5 Silly Things I Miss

5 Silly Things I Miss Because Of Lyme Disease

Even though the big stuff--fatigue, memory loss, seizures--are what makes Lyme so debilitating, 

sometimes it's the small things that I really miss the most.

5. Blow drying my hair

I'm not sure if this is more a result of the fatigue or just my muscle atrophy after several years of barely being able to move (much less exercise), but it's been months since I've been able to lift a blow drier over my head long enough to dry my hair.

4. Snacking

My medication schedule is so strictly regimented that I have very small windows of time throughout the day during which I am allowed to eat. I get 3 meals a day with 4-5 hour gaps between each during which time I am trying to squeeze in all the meds and supplements that need to be taken "away from food." And if for some reason I didn't eat enough at one meal (for instance, i ran out of energy to prepare more food), I just have to wait those long 5 hours, or else eat again and start the countdown all over again.

3. Driving

With the increasing frequency of symptoms like seizures and vision loss, I have had to completely stop driving during the last month or so. In addition to the serious inconvenience of having to get a ride to places like the grocery store on a regular basis, what I really miss is just the independence of being able to go out when I need a change of scenery or browse around a store just to get inspired about new things to try at home without worrying about keeping my ride waiting.

2. Glassware

You have probably heard at least a few of my stories of kitchen accidents. Whether it's memory lapses, like leaving the pyrex dish on the stove and accidentally turning on the wrong burner, or sheer clumsiness, like knocking over the wine glass, or the french press, or the coffee mug... point being, our house has suffered an inordinate amount of broken glass. To try and prevent more mishaps, I've tried to wean myself off using glassware whenever possible. I bought a bunch of plastic cups and bowls and am trying to habituate myself out of using the glasses unless absolutely necessary. I know it's for a good cause, but gosh it's frustrating to feel like a little kid who can't be trusted with the grown up dishes!

1. Dessert

There are things I love about my diet restrictions--eating more fruits and veggies, drinking a protein shake every day (I love the low-maintenance predictability!), and even the forced creativity to come up with new ways to eat things like beans and carrots every single day without getting sick of them!--but I do desperately miss being able to treat myself at the end of a hard day with a cookie or a big piece of cheesecake. I have never been particularly over-indulgent, but I never realized how much I took for granted the ability to treat myself every once in a while.

When it rains...

They say that when it rains, it pours. I find it a very odd quality about life that it really does seem that when bad things happen, they happen all at once. Perhaps, from a psychological standpoint, it is really the case that we are more prone to noticing all the bad things when we are already dealing with another. Or perhaps, on some level, it seems easier to tackle more problems when one is already in "crisis mode" and so we attempt to get them all over with at once. Perhaps, it is just often the case that whatever we are supposed to learn from our problems, we can only learn if the trial is overwhelming and the pain is significant. Whatever the case may be, I cannot deny how often it feels like it's just one thing after another.

I know this update is long overdue. It's been a month, almost to the day, since I've managed to sit down and reflect on my progress, or lack thereof, with this ridiculous illness. This is largely due to the fact that every time I try to think about things lately I get so completely overwhelmed that I can't seem to sort it out, much less document it in a way other people could make sense of.

A lot of great things have happened over the last month. I was extremely blessed by an unexpected visit from my dad a few weeks ago, which was followed shortly after by a visit from my mom and two sisters. It is always so great to have time with my family. I miss them all so much. I also completed (semi-successfully) another tax season with H&R Block and was honored with a pin for 3 years of service with the company. Oh my gosh what a relief it was when April 17th finally arrived and I knew I didn't have to keep stressing every day over whether or not I was going to make it into work! And it wouldn't be fair not to include that fact that, really for the first time in years, we have started to develop a real community of very present friends, largely due to the amazing people in our Life Group as well as a few other key people who have gone out of their way to demonstrate kindness and concern for us. In so many ways we are very blessed.

But as terrible as it is to say, the truth is even blessings often come with added stresses. I am being reminded lately how much having a group of friends also means constantly being invited to things that, no matter how much I want to, I just can't be a part of. Finishing my job means less money coming in, even if it wasn't that much to begin with. Even having my family here sometimes served as a reminder of how poor a job I am doing trying to care for myself when they aren't around and how abnormal my life is.

And then the universe throws some extra cherries on top. My husband lost one of his jobs last month, so the already serious financial problems have just gotten that much worse. My symptoms, both physical and psychological, seem to be getting worse. In addition to the typical Lyme issues, last week I got to add on an excruciating weekend of severe abdominal pain. After spending almost 5 hours doing tests at the hospital, it was determined that it was probably either a kidney stone or a problem with my birth control. Just because I didn't have enough going on right now. And, not surprisingly, a time with this much stress and uncertainty puts a great deal of strain on my marriage, enough so that I will probably get to add marriage counselling to my list of things to do very soon.

It's times like this when I find myself most prone to just lying on the couch staring at the ceiling and asking God, "Why?" I don't understand where grace is in all of this. I know that this is temporary and maybe eventually I will look back and understand. Right now I'm just hoping I can figure out how to make it until then.

My Soul, My Life, My All

Good Friday is honestly one of my favorite holidays. Certainly in the grand scheme it pales in comparison to Easter--what could be better than the celebration of a Savior rising from death to conquer death and save humankind for all eternity?! But to me, Easter feels like a small glimpse of a magnificent future yet to come--a celebration of an eternal glory beyond our current comprehension. Good Friday, on the other hand, I can relate to better. It is the acknowledgement of the necessity of suffering to bring about bliss; it is, arguably, the one moment in history when the Christ seems most human. It is the time when the one man who knew no sin still felt all the pain and suffering that it causes--the pain and suffering that we are ultimately freed from in an eternal sense, but in a very present sense we here on earth still feel it every day. Far be it from me to equate my suffering with that of the Savior of mankind, but still I say, the Christ on the cross I can relate to.

The image of the Lord suffering and dying has saved me in more ways than one. Exactly a year ago I found myself tormented by the concept of suffering. After 4 years of continuous declines in my health and (at that time) no explanation for what was causing it, much less why, I couldn't help but find myself doubting whether God was really all he was cracked up to be. I couldn't deny the existence of a higher power, but the evidence that He was a caring, loving, and eminently good person seemed to dwindle when compared with the vast amount of seemingly needless suffering in the world. Not only my own suffering was on the table, but that of the whole world. Though I tried desperately to believe that maybe I still had hope, maybe I could still be diagnosed and even cured, I was facing the reality that millions of others are not so lucky. Millions of people in the world suffer from undiagnosed, untreated, or incurable diseases--to say nothing of the other evils in the world! Why, when presented with a young, beautiful, intelligent, charismatic girl who would have done almost anything to please Him, would God choose to leave her bedridden, unable to complete basic functions much less win people for His kingdom? It was beyond unfair; it seemed downright unreasonable. And if God were so unreasonable, He was not the same God I had always trusted and believed in. I continued in this downward spiral for months. Everything I'd ever believed was being called into question. I wanted desperately to believe that goodness of the sort that I'd grown up believing could really exist. I just couldn't find it in the midst of so much pain.

I started attending church regularly again (as much as my condition allowed at the time), hoping I could either find answers or find confirmation that my worst suspicions were correct--that the God I was looking for didn't exist. Months past and little pieces of truth started worming their way into my heart, but I couldn't find the faith to really be able to trust a God who allows so much pain. It wasn't until that powerful night at a Good Friday service one year ago that something in my heart and head finally clicked. I was reminded that Christianity isn't about happiness and everything working out perfectly. True Christianity actually proclaims a very bizarre sort of happiness--the kind that usually only comes about after extreme difficulty. God doesn't say life will be easy or happy. He does say He will make it worth it. The idea of the very Son of God being sent to die painfully, only after being tortured and ridiculed, and going to His fate willingly (albeit, perhaps, reluctantly) is an extraordinarily humbling idea to confront. I have to assume that Christ understood the purpose for His suffering; however, I'm inclined to think that even if He didn't He still would have done the same. "Not my will but yours be done" doesn't include caveats about getting to know why things have to happen the way they do.

Were the whole realm of nature mine, that were an offering far too small
Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.

Hearing that age-old song written over 300 years ago, seeing before my imagination the most powerful image of love and suffering united, I finally understood who God really is. He is the God who cares so deeply for the suffering of humans that He sent His only Son to die so they could have the hope of a better future. He experienced firsthand the trials and torments of being human so that we could have a Mediator who understands our pain. He understood that even the deepest suffering can be given meaning in the end.

A God like that is worth it. At least I think so. In view of that kind of love, it is not hard to lay down my life, my soul, my all. How can I do any less? And once I do that, my life is not my own anymore--He can do with it whatever He wills. Not my will but Yours be done. I hold on to the hope that all the suffering is for a purpose and something good will come of it someday. But the truth is, even if it doesn't, it's okay. He doesn't owe me a happy ending. Then again, He's already given me one--the hope that any sufferings in this world are temporary. I owe Him everything for enduring the torment He endured on my behalf, and yet He goes a step further and rewards me with the promise of life beyond the grave free of all pain and suffering! I can most definitely believe in that kind of God. Can't you?

One year later, I already see glimpses of goodness coming out of the struggles I have had to endure. I started this blog for that very reason in fact--I now believe that my story can be a source of hope and encouragement instead of just pain and doubt. I didn't get the kind of life I expected to have when I was a kid dreaming of how I was going to change the world for Jesus. My "ministry" is a unique one, and an annoying reminder to me that God didn't need all the things I thought made me valuable--youth, beauty, charisma, etc. All He needed was a body that was fallen and a soul that was redeemed. With those, He is creating an incredible image of where grace meets suffering. What better ministry could I ask for than to be molded into a modern-day reminder of Christ on the Cross?

God is good indeed.

To Begin means also To End

This week I've been thinking a lot about life ending. I know that sounds really morbid, and at times it is, but it may not be what you think. It is true that people can, and do, die from Lyme. I would by lying if I said this wasn't a very real concern for me. Even when it's not the disease that kills, there is a tragically high rate of suicide among Lyme sufferers. The emotional and psychological effects of this disease are unlike any other illness I've heard of. To be plagued by deepest depression and anxiety on a regular basis, knowing that even with treatment it will be years before you ever really get your life back, seeing all the constant pain and worry you are causing to your family and others who care for you--honestly it's no wonder to me that many can't handle it all. I know with confidence that if it weren't for my family, friends, and most importantly my faith, I would not have made it this far. I do not believe I could ever go so far as to take my own life, but again, I would be lying if I said the thought has never crossed my mind.

However, this week I've been thinking more about other ways that life can end. Or perhaps more accurately, ways that it can change, because oftentimes changes feel like ends. As you all know, I recently began a major change in my treatment--one that is likely to cause a lot of difficult and painful reactions, which are the signs that it is working. There are, of course, two sides to this coin, and my last post focused on the upside--the fact that the treatment is working and I can make some real progress in the fight against this disease. This week, as I've found myself physically bedridden, emotionally falling apart, and psychologically terrified, I can't help but recognize the flipside--the fact that ready or not I am entering another new phase of life and it isn't going to be a pleasant one.

Yesterday I literally cried for almost 5 hours straight. I know there were a lot of things coming into play--stress, hunger, sleep deprivation, and my ever-changing hormone levels--but the only thing I could think about was how much I felt like my life is ending. I know it sounds over-dramatic, but just go with me for a minute. For the last 5 years I have been fighting this constant battle between allowing myself enough normalcy (in the form of having friends, attending church, trying to work, etc) to be able to feel human, and recognizing that I'm just not able to sustain the kind of schedule and interactions that I need to do so. I can't really invest in relationships well when I can't attend the parties and events, coordinate the get-togethers, or even have people come to me, especially on days when I can't stand up much less drive, or move my mouth much less have a conversation. I can't sustain a job, not a real one anyway, when I can't see well enough to drive to work half the time, can't stand long enough to put clothes on oftentimes, or simply can't remember what day or time it is. But despite the fact that I know these activities are slightly out of reach for me right now, I can't seem to help myself from wanting them, and being willing to try to get them anyway. And amazingly enough, for brief periods of time, it works.

Despite all the crises and complications, within the last few months I started to feel an amazing semblance of normalcy creeping into my life. I had a church family, people who care about and will go out of their way to be a part of my life sometimes. I have had a job that, even though my hours were sporadic and short-lived, was willing to work around my chaotic and maddening lifestyle so that for brief periods of time I could feel like I did something that mattered. I had an apartment with a year-long lease--the longest I have lived in any one place since I left for college--where it was worth the bother to decorate and make it feel like home. It is a bizarre existence certainly, when it is constantly interrupted by the inevitable "bad days" and the medications and diet restrictions and absurd sleep patterns, but at least it felt like mine. And suddenly I feel it all slipping away.

Now, even on the "good" days I find my vision is blurry almost constantly. I can barely even watch tv anymore because I simply can't see it. My arms and legs are in constant pain that gets worse whenever I sit or stand for more than a few minutes at a time. It takes enormous effort to walk to the kitchen to feed myself and I have to spend at least a couple hours trying to think of what I can eat beforehand because I can't hold a thought in my head long enough to process options or decisions of any kind. The "bad" days add on seizures, paralysis, muscle spasms, blackouts, and a constant sense of having no idea where I am or what is going on around me. I'm still clinging to all those things that I care so much about, but I am facing the reality that many of them simply aren't an option anymore. My job has to end--I'm praying I can muster a few more shifts since tax season ends in 2 weeks anyway, but I'm not counting on it. The long list of people that I've desperately wanted to spend more time with will have to wait. At best I might be able to muster a coffee date once a month or so on my rare good days (as long as they are willing to drive and put up with my intense scatterbrainedness) but more than that would be impressive. I don't know if I'll be able to keep up with my small group, my church attendance, etc. Even my marriage has a completely different dynamic; my husband returns to being a caretaker first, a companion second, and he's lucky when I can muster the ability to go out of my way for his needs. The life I knew, the life I had started to love so much, is ending.

I know that one thing ending means another new beginning, but that is small comfort when the new thing mostly sucks. :-P And I know that this is temporary; eventually all this pain will dissipate and I will be better than ever, and I have to believe that at that point it will all be worth it, otherwise I wouldn't being doing this. Still, it's just not fair. I shouldn't have to be forced to go back to a life with few friends, no hobbies, and barely any sense of being human. And what makes it that much worse is recognizing how many times I've been here before. Every time I try to reclaim even the smallest bits of the kind of life I miss so much, it's only a matter of time before it all comes crashing down again.

But maybe this is just what life is. I talked so much in my last post about the "seasons" of life, it would be foolish of me not to recognize that change is just a part of it. Sometimes the change is painful. Sometimes it brings joy that makes it all worth it. At best my life is just a more extreme picture of the same kinds of changes that everyone faces at some times or others. Still, it makes me want to proclaim with wild vehemence to enjoy the life you have because nothing is permanent!!! Whether it is cut short by death or illness or just the voice of God telling you it's time for something new, life is ultimately governed by powers beyond our control and it would be a real shame to fail to enjoy the good things while they last.

Death is a part of life. And just like the hope of Rebirth, it also proves how valuable the living really is. So LIVE, my dear friends, for my sake if nothing else. Take time to notice the little things that make you human, that make life worth the hassle. Spend time with one another and see how powerful it is to be able to share yourself with another. You just never know when life as you know it is going to change.

Signs of Spring

Today is the first day of spring and I am feeling very much in the mood to celebrate the newness of seasons. Maybe that explains why I am sitting here in shorts and a tank top next to an open window despite the fact that it is only 45 degrees outside here in Colorado. :-P As I feel my toes slowly starting to get numb ask I try to bask in the sunshine streaming through the window, I am beginning to realize that the joy I feel in celebrating the arrival of spring probably has less to do with the actuality of spring and more to do with what it symbolizes. It is not just sunshine and warm weather, blooming flowers or a time to plant gardens. Spring symbolizes the hope of something new and beautiful. Rebirth after a cold, harsh winter. Some might say that winter is just as natural as spring--it's the natural circle of life to have birth and death in equal portions--but I think there is still something in the human psyche that tends to see winter as a necessary stage because it makes us rejoice that much more in spring. It is the fasting before the feast; too much of either would be unnatural, but the one makes you enjoy the other so much the more.

The hope and promise of the future is especially on mind mind today after my doctors appointment yesterday. Most of you know, the last few weeks have been incredibly difficult with several medication issues, herx reactions, and some truly terrifying symptoms. The "6 week" treatment on the Doxycylene, which actually took almost 12 weeks to complete because of how many times I had to stop the antibiotics because of the severity of my symptoms, finally ends this week. I went to the doctor yesterday to discuss where to go from here. I rather expected them to say I would need to stay on the Doxy a few weeks longer and hope for the best. The message I ended up getting was very different!

After running some tests and discussing medication options with the nurse, I sat down with my doctor, who looked at my charts and the first thing he said was, "You are taking a lot!" That alone made me feel a little bit better. At least I'm not the only one who gets a little overwhelmed when I look at the 2 FULL PAGES of meds and supplements I take each day. I think his exact words were something like, "I would love to try to simplify all this for you if at all possible; however, the way things are looking right now, your body is giving all the signs that it's ready to really fight this battle!" The muscle tests showed that I don't need the Doxy any more and I'm ready to start some more aggressive antibiotics. My immune system, which has been practically non-existent for the last few years, is starting to function again and is gaining strength very quickly.  Every person is different, and of course every new set of medications comes with new sets of possible complications or side effects depending on how my body reacts, but it was a huge encouragement to start hearing my doctor talk about the overall treatment period in terms of months rather than years.

Now I'm not going to lie. The new set of meds he put me on now is more likely to make me feel worse instead of better, at least in the short term. Viral infections produce toxic "die-off" symptoms, just like you see with Candida or other fungal infections, known as the Herxheimer reaction, producing symptoms like fever, headaches, hyperventilation, muscle pain, fatigue, etc. Going after the infection more aggressively significantly increases the likelihood of experiencing this reaction (or "herxing" as they call it). However, if my body can keep up with the toxin load, this more aggressive approach will be far more effective at killing the infection and possibly reducing the overall time-frame for recovery. I am definitely more than a little anxious about what this means for my overall functionality over the next few weeks/months, particularly as things are starting to get busier and more demanding with my job. If I start having frequent problems with herxing, days when I can get out of bed may become rare, much less days when I can go in to work, go grocery shopping, or handle daily chores.

Still, I see this news as a powerful message of hope for future healing. The first day of spring does not magically make winter go away. Seasons are a process and it takes time, and sometimes the change from one season to another happens slowly and with several relapses (like last year when we had 80 degree weather in Feb and a huge snowstorm the first week of May!). I know there is still "snow" in my future, but the important thing to recognize is that there is change! Things are happening! And even if the early buds of spring are overcome by another late frost, they are still a reminder that the process is still in place. Winter cannot last forever. Rebirth will always come eventually. And that is something worth celebrating.

In the Moment

I've been reflecting this week on how much this disease is teaching me to live one day, one moment, at a time. I am not by nature an "in the moment" kind of person. I am a planner. I am very future oriented in general. My day-to-day pleasures include things like looking at my calendar several times a day and committing to memory important upcoming events, or browsing apartment listings in areas where we might someday be living. Yes, I do these things for fun. :-P

I am also very past-oriented. I am extraordinarily sentimental. When I daydream, I am almost always re-living past experiences in my head. Whether it's remembering fond experiences from my childhood or mentally rehashing my most recent conversation to consider what I wish I had done differently, I spend a lot of time thinking about things that have already happened.

I believe that either one of these tendencies can become unhealthy--becoming obsessed with the future so much that I see no joy in the present or so absorbed in my past that I don't want to move on. But in general I think I successfully avoid these pitfalls. I don't deny, ignore, or resent my present; I just don't really think about it much. I remember I once described myself to my husband as someone who is in the present merely by default, because I am straddling it with one leg in the past and one in the future.

This week especially, I find myself robbed of this position. I've had a rather odd combination of symptoms this week in that my energy level has been fairly good and my emotional fluctuations are mostly under control but I've been particularly struggling with my mental acuity. This afternoon, for the first time in my life, I literally could not remember my own name for several minutes. I can take in information and process it for a few minutes at a time and then it is just gone. I have had to write down ALL important information during the day, such as the exact times I eat or take my medication, because otherwise I won't be able to remember when it's time for the next dose, even though the last one was only 30 min ago. Before I got into this habit, there were several times when I would look up at the clock to see if it was time for more and find myself completely at a loss--unable to remember if I had eaten anything, drank anything, or taken anything all day. I know people often joke about not being able to remember what they had for breakfast, but let me tell you it is a singularly bizarre experience to really not be able to remember ANYTHING that has happened to you all day!

Much as I hope this goes away soon, I will say it has given me a new appreciation for the small moments God gives us. It can be freeing not to be constrained by feelings of what I am "supposed" to be doing that day (because I simply can't remember whatever it was I had hoped to get done) and to just ask myself in each moment, "what do I want right now?" In an inexplicable way, I almost feel like I can sense God's presence more strongly minute by minute than I can when I am so focused on trying to put all the pieces together myself. I have to trust that, even though I can't remember where I just came from or anticipate where I am going, He is leading me moment by moment to right where I need to be. I miss being able to see the big picture. There are other unique blessings that come through being able to observe from past through future the ways God works that I miss out on when my scope of vision is so small. But for someone like me, who really struggles to simply be present in the present, I think this is a lesson I need to learn.

Toxic Waste

Okay, finally time for another Lyme-related update. I've been so caught up lately in processing everything else, I forgot how behind I am in logging health issues.

I think when I last left off I had just started on the antibiotics again after a couple weeks off to ramp up some new additions to my medication plan and I was already feeling fatigue-related side effects from starting up the antibiotics. Upon talking with my doctor about the severity of my symptoms, he decided to go ahead and pull me off the antibiotics AGAIN and try adding two more homeopathic remedies for toxin elimination. I have spend the last 2 weeks increasing the dosage each day on these new things and started back on the antibiotics today (which for me started at about 8pm last night--yes, my sleep schedule is still a nightmare incarnate). Annoyingly, it seems like the new detox drops have also been causing muscle fatigue even without the antibiotics, though it's difficult to tell for sure because I've also had a few cold symptoms this week so it might just be the extra strain of a cold virus on my immune system causing the fatigue.

This whole process is starting to really get on my nerves. For one, it is just plain confusing. From what I have seen and read about other Chronic Lyme patients, most doctors seem to assume that issues like the severe fatigue, muscle pain, blurry vision, memory loss, etc caused by the treatment are just a given. They are just normal side effects of treating a chronic lyme infection. So, though part of me appreciates the fact that maybe I am just one of a lucky few who have a doctor who believes that many of these side effects are avoidable, it is also frustrating to feel like my treatment keeps being delayed by this quest for a solution to a problem that no one else seems to be worried about solving. Truthfully, I would almost rather have all the icky symptoms and just plan on cancelling my life for a few months if it means getting this treatment over with sooner. On the other hand, if, as my doctor keeps reminding me, doing so will just cause huge toxin buildup that isn't being dealt with, not only could the treatment end up taking longer anyway, the toxins could also cause long term damage to my liver or other organs. I suppose that would be bad. So for now I keep jumping through the hoops of my on-again-off-again medication schedule hoping that eventually all the pieces will fall together and start cooperating.

In other news, my body seems determined to maintain a completely backwards sleep schedule the last few weeks, where I wake up late in the evening and finally fall asleep around 8 or 9 am. Of course every once in a while I'll have a totally ridiculous break from the cycle, like on Monday last week when I woke up around 7pm as usual but still could not get to sleep, despite trying all day, until 7pm Tuesday night--a full 24 hours of "insomnia"! I got all excited the next day, thinking maybe after a normal night's sleep I could start waking up in the morning again like a real person. :-P With some effort (and several sleeping pills) I did manage to pull it off for a few days, until last night (i.e. Saturday morning) when I woke up at 5am after about 6 hours of sleep in such excruciating abdominal pain (I think pms related) that I could not possibly fall asleep again. After a couple doses of pain killers and about 2 hours writhing on the floor, the pain finally subdued, but by then I was wide awake. I've survived on 6 hours of sleep before, though it usually causes a lot of neurological fallout when I do, but I figured to keep my happily normalizing sleep schedule I needed to just stay awake... which I managed to do until about 9am when my brain just couldn't function anymore and I fell asleep again. Big surprise, I slept till 8pm--sleeping through several alarms set to remind me to take various meds--and here I am again at 7am getting ready to have "dinner" in about an hour. So much for sleeping during nighttime. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

Good news is, I have another dr appointment scheduled in about a week, so unless he decides to push it back again depending on how this new attempt at antibiotics goes, I should get another chance soon to get some real answers about all this craziness. In the meantime, patience is a virtue...patience is a virtue...patience is a virtue...patience is a virtue...

I am Like a Piece of String

I am like a piece of string.

I bring things together and hold them in place.
When I find something I like, I wrap myself around it completely.
A little tension is necessary to keep me focused; too much tension and I will break.

My husband is like a balloon.

He is always striving to go higher, faster, farther.
He looks at the ground from the perspective of the sky.
His only trajectory is up, and he never tires of it--the fun is in the reaching.

Without the balloon, my piece of string would just lie crumpled on the ground, unable to move.
I need the balloon to pull me towards the sky, to help me reach for more, to have one foot in the clouds.
I also need the ground to tether me down, to keep me in line, to remind me where I came from.
Without the ground, my piece of string would dangle helplessly, tossed about by whims of chance.

I hold with one hand to the things I know and with the other to the things I dream of knowing.
Without either one or the other, I would be lost and helpless.
Yet to hold to both means I am constantly pulled in two directions.
A little tension is necessary to keep me focused.
Too much tension and I will break.

In His Time

Today I want to diverge slightly from updates about my illness to something else that has been on my heart this week. Especially while Paul has been out of town the last 2 weekends (for a men's retreat and a grad school interview), I've been trying to find new strategies to keep myself sane, relaxed, and in a better place. One of these is I have taken up yoga. It's actually way more fun than I expected and it's the closest thing to "exercise" I can do in my current condition, even though most of it consists of me lying on the floor trying to hold my legs up in the air for a few seconds at a time before my strength gives out. :-P

The other thing is I have started trying to read my bible every day again. I know all my church friends may scoff, but unfortunately this is just not something I am in the habit of doing. Most days I blame it on my vision problems, attention span issues, or muscle weakness (holding up a book is very difficult many days), but when I do it right after my yoga routine, when my mind is more clear and relaxed, I'm finding it much easier. Yesterday I was drawn to Jeremiah 29. This is of course the chapter containing the famous passage "I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you..." that so many Christians cling to when they are fearful about the future. I don't want to offend anyone, but it always bugs me a little when people seem to take that verse out of context and assume it means that God is about to insert blessings into your life. However, as I explored the context a little, I found this to be a promise worth clinging to, especially in very difficult struggles, when understood for what it is--a message about God's timing.

This chapter is a letter sent from the prophet Jeremiah to "the surviving elders of the exiles... whom Nebuchadnezzar had taken into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon." These are God's people, His chosen ones, who were enslaved to the Egyptians for 400 years and then wandered in the desert for 40 years after escaping Egypt because of their own disobedience. They were promised a homeland "flowing with milk and honey" but they almost never made it there because of their own fear. Once they finally arrived, they were hunted by other nations, warred among themselves, and struggled constantly to remember the things God had done for them, always tending to trust their own judgment. Eventually, they were ransacked by the Babylonians and exiled into slavery yet again, this time in Babylon.

The first part of the Lord's message to these exiles in Jeremiah 29 is this: "Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare. (v.5-7) In other words--get comfortable, you're going to be here a while. God does not rush in to the rescue and say, "just ask me and I will set you free." Quite the opposite; He tells them to settle in, encourage their families to make homes and plant crops, knowing they will be around long enough to harvest them. For the time being, there is no escape. Many days, this is how I feel--"exiled" into illness, knowing that even though someday I may be set free, in the meantime I need to learn to live where I am now, adjust to my current situation and try to make the best of it, perhaps even to stop praying for immediate healing and start looking for ways to make my own kind of "houses" and "gardens"--things that will make my life as tolerable and productive as it can be now.

Fortunately, this is not the end of the story. "For thus says the lord: When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will visit you and I will fulfill to you my promise and bring you back to this place." I think if I were a Jewish exile at this point, I'd be thinking, "Seriously, God? Seventy years!" I am not a patient person. I come from a culture where, when something is "promised" it is expected to be delivered promptly. I spent large portions of last week fighting with FedEx because they took over a WEEK to deliver a birthday present to my sister-in-law that was supposed to be there in 2 days--they promised to deliver it and, as far as I'm concerned, they failed because I had certain expectations for how long it would take and they didn't live up. How odd it must have seemed to receive a letter from God saying: I will live up to my promise, but I'm going to wait until you have grandchildren before I do it. This is when God follows up, saying, "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for wholeness and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me. When you seek me with all your heart, I will be found by you, declares the Lord, and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and all the places where I have driven you, declares the Lord, and I will bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile." (v. 11-14)

God reminds His people that the grand scheme of things from His point of view is much larger than their seventy year exile. He has big plans for the future and He wants them to know that then, in the future, they will have everything they want, but not yet. There is so much that can be learned about the heart of God through this chapter. For one, He is absolutely faithful to His promises. He desires goodness, wholeness, and blessings for His people. But for me the bottom line of the statement "I know the plans I have for you" is that those plans are clearly for a future time. This is ultimately a reminder that God works in His own timing, and there is nothing we can do to change that. There have been times when I have gotten quite angry with God for His "bad timing," feeling He has robbed me of so many of the "prime" years of my life by giving me this illness. Physically and mentally, I relate far better to someone in their 60s than in their 20s. During the ages when most of my friends were partying, having a social life, pursuing higher education, or establishing a career, I was unable to get out of bed, wondering what was wrong with me. But Jeremiah reminds me that God's plans for my life are so much bigger than my own. Fortunately, at least I (hopefully!) don't have to wait to have grandchildren before I may see His restoration take place! But even if I did, I think if I had a better perspective, I should be okay with that. My life on earth is to accomplish His purpose, and maybe His purpose is just for me to prepare the way for future generations to receive the fulfillment of His promises. He never guarantees us a life of ease or even individual prosperity--what He does guarantee is that our existence means something. We do not breath and move on this earth for no reason. Even if we never see the end, He is using us to accomplish some greater good through us and in a world so desperately seeking the "meaning of life" I think this is, perhaps, the greatest promise of all.

I encourage anyone who is a big fan of Jeremiah 29 to be sure and read chapters 30-31 as well. God makes perfectly clear what His style of restoration looks like and it is a beautiful and terrible thing to behold! My favorite verse is at the end of chapter 30. After fleshing out the inspiring picture of how He will eventually draw His people back to Himself, he also reminds them that "the fierce anger of the Lord will not turn back until He has executed and accomplished the intentions of His mind." The present suffering has a purpose and that purpose WILL be accomplished. Then comes my favorite part: "In the latter days you will understand this." I'm sure there is debate about what "the latter days" refers to exactly, but for me it is enough just to see that a) God understands that His promise is counter-intuitive right now for us humans who are in the middle of the suffering and see a long road ahead before the healing comes, and b) He promises that someday we will be able to understand. In HIS time, all things may be revealed.

Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Day in the Life

The funny thing about this disease to me is how some days I manage to live a relatively normal life and start thinking to myself, "hey, this isn't so bad" and then just days (or hours) later I find myself shocked that I manage to do anything at all. I've been watching random YouTube videos this week made by other Lyme sufferers around the world describing their lives and symptoms. It's always interesting to see how others describe this experience. It's like having the flu, or a hangover, for years on end. It's like living in a dream, where nothing seems real. You live as a shut-in, rarely (if ever) leaving the house. You are completely dependent on others, except no one understands why.

It is easily the most bizarre illness I think I've ever heard of, because all of these are true. One minute it just feels like a hangover, and then suddenly your vision blurs, you have to lie down immediately, and you wake up on the floor 10 minutes later trying to remember how you got there. Just weird. The other day I was home alone and was trying desperately to think of something to make for lunch. My brain had room for only one thought--bacon--which was of course the one thing I had forgotten to pick up at the store during my last grocery trip. I wasn't feeling stellar, but other than being really tired and a tiny bit dizzy I was okay, so I decided to run to the store. I made it through shopping just fine and was feeling a little proud of myself for being so industrious that day, until in the car on the way home my vision started blurring. Fortunately I was only about 3 blocks from home when it happened and there wasn't much traffic; if the circumstances had been any different I would have pulled over right away until my brain cleared up. I could see my surroundings just fine, but it was like my brain couldn't quite process the images properly. I think habit and instinct took over and I made it the last few blocks home just fine, but as I had to squint to distinguish between the green traffic lights and the red car lights in front of me, it was painfully clear that I should not be allowed to drive when I am like this. Yet, I know of no doctor or government agency that would prohibit it--I'm sure I could pass a driving test just fine most days. But realistically, there are probably at least 2 days out of every week where I know perfectly well I am not well enough to be trusted with a vehicle, or a heated stove, or a lighted candle, or an unchaperoned bath or shower.

This last week, I have been really struggling over what to do with this. My husband is an enormous help of course, but when he works 2 jobs and a 50-60hr work week there is a large majority of time when I am on my own, and even when he is home there is only so much he can do without running himself into the ground. Many days lately I have wished for a full-time caretaker--someone who will cook for me when I can't stand long enough to prepare food (or don't have the mental acuity to be safe around heated objects) and do the dishes so they don't just pile up on the table until I have a day when I'm energetic enough load the dishwasher. But of course just when I start thinking I can't possibly be expected to take care of myself right now, I will have a good day again. I will muster the energy to wash dishes and clean house and even go to work for a couple hours. We will have our small group over and I will spend the evening trying to remember what "normal" people's lives look like and I will realize that my sickness is no worse than what many others deal with, it's just a bit more unique perhaps. This feeling will last a day or two, until another day comes when I almost break another toe because I can't see the chair in front of me, or I knock over the knife block in the kitchen and realize that a few inches difference could have caused really serious injuries, and then I'm back to wondering how I can be allowed to live by myself.

There's really no such thing as a "day in the life" of a Chronic Lyme sufferer; every day is different and brings brand new complications and epiphanies.

What a Mess

Okay, I know this is way overdue. I wish I had a better excuse than "I haven't felt good"... or actually just any other excuse for variety's sake, but alas, such is my life.

I've had the weirdest and most unexpected issues over the last few weeks. It all really started in the last few days of January. After 6 weeks on most of my new meds and 4 weeks into the antibiotics, during which time I felt mostly the same as usual or maybe a bit better, all of a sudden I found myself in an epic crash. The last time I remember feeling so helpless was in April of last year--during the last two weeks of tax season when I had to spontaneously quit my job--which certainly did not seem like a good sign. I was exhausted, physically and mentally, couldn't get out of bed without extreme effort and pain, and was running a low fever off and on. This lasted about 4 days. Though these symptoms are hardly unusual, it is VERY rare that they are so severe for so long, so after the 3rd day I contacted my doctor about it, just to make sure I didn't need to be seriously concerned. Truth be told, I expected that times like this might happen as part of the treatment, so I wasn't especially worried at the time. Let's face it, no one said Lyme disease would be easy to treat!

However, my doctor responded with more concern than I anticipated and thus began the quest for an explanation. He was worried at first about Steven's-Johnson Syndrome, which is a very rare and potentially life-threatening condition that sometimes presents in Lyme patients or other infections and manifests as a rash (like my detox rashes) and fever. Long story short, we ruled this out eventually, thank goodness! However, the rashes in conjuct with the other symptoms may indicate a liver problem or other issues with the toxin elimination process. (Quick refresher for those who may not remember--while treating an infection with antibiotics, the infection tends to fight back by releasing toxins, fungi, etc into my body, which can cause untold other horrors if not properly treated. A HUGE part of my treatment regime is detox related to address this issue.) They sent me to get some blood tests done to test liver function and recommended that I stop the antibiotics immediately until we could determine what was causing the problem. That's when the real fun started.

As soon as I stopped the antibiotics, I noticed my energy level improve almost immediately. I was able to get up and move around again. I could do the dishes for short periods of time. I still wasn't 100% but I could semi-function again. Unfortunately, while my energy improved, my mental/neurological issues multiplied tenfold. Now, it is normal for me to feel a little "fuzzy" or disoriented, have trouble remembering things or concentrating for long periods, etc. Still, usually I can tell when I'm feeling out of it and I have learned to just not do certain things (like cooking, doing taxes, or trying to communicate) when this happens. When the neurological problems started, it was simple things--I left food in the oven and forgot I was cooking something until hours later, I kept misplacing things I had been using only minutes before, I would forget to eat or take my meds on schedule. But I could tell over time it was getting worse and worse. After burning 3 meals in a row because I kept forgetting I was cooking and almost catching the microwave on fire because I forgot to take the metal fork of my plate, I realized this was getting way worse than ususal. By now, it was the weekend and my doctor was out of the office, so I determined to survive until Monday. One night, it started getting really scary. After feeling jumbled and confused all day, late that evening it was almost as though I could feel my mental fibers snap. I only have vague memories of that night still, but I remember it started shortly after Paul had gone to bed. I was lying in bed with him, hoping maybe I could sleep, and I remember suddenly feeling an inexplicable compulsion to get up. I wandered into the living room aimlessly, feeling completely unable to control my body. There has been one other time in my life that I don't know how else to describe other than to say it felt like some other spirit was possessing my body, and not in a good way. That's what this felt like. I was semi-aware of my actions, but as if I was watching them from some remote corner of my head. I literally spun in circles for several minute (don't ask me why) just because it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I started halucinating--dark shadows in the room looked like snakes and eyes watching me from the corners. I completely lost the power of speech. I ended up back in bed (I don't really remember how I got there) and was rocking back and forth, tearing at my clothes. Paul woke up and tried to figure out what was wrong. I couldn't form words. I eventually managed a bizarre sort of baby talk, mostly garbled sounds but every once in a while I could get a single word out. I'm sure most of it sounded like nonsense to him. Something about snakes and circles... I felt like I was being pushed out of my own brain and I was desperately trying to communicate but even I could barely figure out what was happening, and I'm sure I wouldn't know how to explain it even if I could. This is the kind of experience that I have to say unless you've experienced something like it, you will probably have no idea how to interpret what I'm describing. Suffice it to say it was one of the most bizarre and terrifying experiences of my life.

I emailed my doctor on Sunday afternoon (for those keeping a timeline, this was Feb 6th) explaining, as best I could, the whole story, knowing he would get it first thing Monday morning. I was slightly more cogent on Sunday, but still very disoriented, and by Monday all the really scary stuff was gone. I was still a little dizzy and had a lot of trouble concentrating, but I was able for the most part to go about my normal day. We had scheduled an appointment for me to go into the office in Ft. Collins on Tuesday to run more tests. Paul unfortunately got called into a meeting in Colorado Springs that day, but given my shaky mental state I did not remotely feel comfortable driving the distance myself, but a dear friend offered to give me a ride. (Thanks again! ;-)) We ran several tests using the muscle testing method to try to determine what systems and medications were working or not. It was a very informative appointment but it still didn't provide any really clear answers. There are several possibilities that could theoretically explain my bizarre symptoms, including a toxin issue, symptoms from possible coinfections, unusual reactions or allergies to medications, having come down with a new cold/flu/something, or some combination of all of the above. Since the really severe symptoms were gone, for no apparent reason, it was very difficult to really explore what caused them. They gave me some new medications to add (now I'm up to 40 pills/day!) and told me to ramp up slowly with the new stuff and then add the antibiotic back in.

Today was my second day back on the antibiotic. I can already tell my energy feels sluggish and I'm having more trouble with mental focus than ususal. I know this is all part of the process, and I am very encouraged by the way my doctor has responded, still I really hope experiences like this aren't just the way things have to be. I miss my life, even the lame tired version I've been living for the last few years. Right now I'm just praying God heals me quickly. And that I can learn from this whatever I need to.

Here goes...

Sinner's Prayer

I am bitter today. I know I shouldn't be, but I am. I am so completely fed up with everything right now.

I feel like this week I took a huge step backwards health-wise. I know it's probably just normal ups and downs of the process, but it's so discouraging to feel like you are starting to get something under control, even if it isn't perfect, and suddenly find everything falling apart again. I am solidly back in the realm of not sleeping again. The last couple days have been particularly stupid. My insomnia has been getting worse and worse every day this week, until finally on Thursday night I couldn't sleep at all until 6am (friday morning). Consequently, on Friday I didn't wake up until 6pm!!! It is not at all unusual anymore for me to sleep till 1 or 2 in the afternoon, but 6 is just absurd if you ask me. Partly in effort to "reset" my internal clock, and partly in desperate hopes of finding a way I could possibly make it to church this morning, I decided to just stay up all night Friday and all day Saturday so I could be completely exhausted by early Saturday night and fall asleep at a normal time. Before people think I sound completely out of my mind, this stay-awake-for-20-some-hours approach is thus far the only way I've successfully managed to get myself back into normal sleep patterns for any amount of time in the past. So I mentally pretended that the 6pm when I woke up was actually 6am and lived my friday in the middle of the night. By Saturday at noon I literally could not even move, so I let myself take a short 2 hour nap and then was up and ready to go again. I went out to see the Muppets Movie w/ my hubby that evening to try to keep myself awake for those last few hours of the day, and then promptly went to bed by 11pm. I was exhausted! My head felt fuzzy, my muscles were gone, and my eyes could barely stay open. And still, as I lay there in bed, I could NOT fall asleep. I lay there, eyes closed and completely motionless, for almost an hour, completely conscious for every minute of it. I turned on the tv for a few minutes, hoping it would help my mind wind down. Soon, I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, so I turned it off and lay quiet again. Still sleep would not come. It was almost 2:30 before I finally fell asleep. After over 30 hours with no sleep except the brief 2 hour nap that afternoon, my body still could not find the peace to rest.

Of course, the next morning (this morning) as my alarms for church were ringing persistently in my ear, it was then that my body finally decided it was time to rest. I could not move a muscle. Every ounce of energy I could muster went into hitting the snooze button in hopes that the next 10 minutes would somehow bring the miracle of energy and movement. It's been over a month since I've been to church and I feel like my soul is starving for worship and community. I hate how much power my physical body has to dictate my actions instead of being guided by my values and choices. I can tell there is a spiritual war going on inside me as well as a physical battle. And I think that in both cases, though the right side is persevering overall, the battle is causing devastating side effects. Tears streamed down my face as I finally had to face the fact that I wasn't going to make it to church again this week. After trying so hard and pushing myself so far, I still wasn't strong enough to live the life I want to have.

It is in moments like this when the deep sort of despair sets in. As if it wasn't hard enough to be constantly faced with my own weakness and insufficiency, moments like this are when I can't help but ask, "where is God in this?" I can usually come to terms with the fact of my illness--we live in a sinful world and still God uses it to teach reliance on Him--and I can even get over having to make sacrifices in my career and my friendships--these things are blessings, luxuries, and it is not for me to say what I deserve. But I really struggle with things like inability to go to church, join a small group, or volunteer with ministries. Things that are bigger than just me, and things that my spirit so desperately craves. Things that bring glory to God and grace to others. Do I just lack the faith that God will supply the strength to do His work? Or does He really allow those goods to be sacrificed because of my fallen body? Most days it feels more like the latter.

Of course, these deep, dark moments are when the demons strike hardest. Today has been one of those days where it seems that everything that could possibly go badly does. I have detox rashes breaking out all over my body, causing uncontrollable itching almost everywhere. My muscles are so weak it has taken me over 4 hours to write this, because my fingers move so slowly and I can only hold my head up to write for very short bursts of time. I have not been able to get off the couch all day except with extreme effort and pain. Speaking of pain, for the last 2 hours I've had shooting pains through my abdomen, lower back, and neck. It is like a cramp or muscle spasm except it never stops, ever. My head is throbbing, my eyes go in and out of focus every few minutes, and every so often I just zone out, completely and totally unaware of anything around me. In the really bad moments, which come and go, even the feeling of my clothes against my skin send shivers through my body and prickling pain across my skin.

These are the times when I want to hide. No one who hasn't experienced days like this can understand. I try to close my eyes until it's all over and pretend it doesn't happen. No one wants to hear about the bad times. But this is part of it. This is what living with a chronic debilitating disease looks like. This is my life. I can't hide from it anymore. So forgive me for venting and spewing my misery all over you. This is the only way I know to force myself to acknowledge it, to face it, and to deal with it.

Lord, heal my bitter heart and my broken body. Make me into an image of Your Grace and Truth.
Amen.

Calm after the storm?

Oh my what a nightmare the last few weeks have been. Mostly as a result of my husband's hairbrained idea to go to grad school. :-p No, I really do think it's a great idea and I'm so blessed by his ambition, but I had forgotten how draining it is to apply to schools. Most of the last few weeks have consisted of countless late nights and intensive essay proof-reading sessions--not an easy feat when oftentimes my inability to concentrate makes reading period a difficult process. After the first week of deadlines (when 4 of the 6 schools we applied to were all due the same week) I literally didn't get out of bed for 2 whole days afterward except to get food and use the bathroom. Ugg. Thankfully, we managed to complete all our priority #1 schools by the deadlines--including Harvard, Stanford, MIT, Yale, UC Berkeley, and UVA--and now we just have to wait and hope to be contacted for interviews hopefully in the next month or two.

My job is also starting to pick up a bit, though the "busy season" won't really start until the beginning of Feb. But I did 2 whole tax returns yesterday during a 5 hour shift, which is pretty great for this time of year. I might actually make some money doing this after all.

Of course my biggest challenge right now is still trying to navigate through my new schedule of pills and meals and sleep and more pills. My insomnia is back and every day for the last 4-5 days I've been up until about 4-5am. Not at all helpful while trying to establish a routine. Also, after a meeting with the nutritionalist at my doctor's office a couple weeks ago, she started me on a low-glycemic diet, which basically cuts out almost all grains and sugars and adds a whole boatload of veggies compared to what I usually eat. This is partly to help in the fight against the Lyme (which produces toxins and fungi that feed and multiply off of sugars and starches in my body) and partly to help me start shaving off some of the weight this stupid illness has caused me to gain. After gaining more than 20 pounds in the last year, I can only hope it works. If anyone has any good recipe ideas for grain-free or veggie-heavy foods/meals I am on the lookout! I always felt I ate pretty healthy before (and actually the nutritionalist agreed!) but I never noticed how much I tend to pair everything with a bread-y base before. I've always eaten a pretty good balance of protein, healthy fats, fresh fruits, and some veggies, but I always put it on pasta, or a tortilla, or a sandwich. I'm a little disoriented trying to figure out what to eat when I can only have 1 grain item (i.e. slice of bread, tortilla, 1/2 c pasta, etc) each day!

I am so looking forward to the day when all this starts feeling a little more natural and a little less overwhelming. It's been so hard to gauge my body's reactions to the new meds because I feel completely exhausted and overwhelmed all the time, but I strongly suspect that has more to do with all the big lifestyle changes I am encountering all at once. I hope next week may bring a short and peaceful respite.

What have I gotten myself into?

Yesterday I had my first day back working again at H&R Block. I agonized over the decision about whether or not I was up for returning to work this year given the condition of my health. I'm still not completely sure I made the right choice, but since I can work only a couple hours a week and the office is right across the street and, let's face it, we could use a little extra income right now, I decided to give it a shot. I am learning how much it is true that I am my own worst enemy right now. I get myself so psyched out about whether or not I will be able to keep up with life that it exhausts me before I even had a chance.

Fortunately though, my first day went remarkably well. I really like my manager and the people I am working with. I switched to a new office from last year (because it's right across the street) and was a little nervous about having to make the adjustment, but everyone is so helpful and welcoming I think the transition will go very smoothly. The only hard part is going to be trying to remember how to do taxes again after 8 months of off-season. :-P

Unfortunately, it was the first day I've had icky symptoms presumably from the new meds. I had terrible nausea off and on all day. It seems to happen most often shortly after taking the antibiotics/antifungal/garlic dose so I'm taking that to mean that they are working and my infection isn't happy about it. I have an appointment at my dr's office on tues to meet with a nutritionalist so, if things don't get better, I may ask about it then and see if I need to be worried.

Today I feel a lot better so far except that I am incredibly exhausted. I've not gotten out of bed all day except to make food and I still feel like it might be time for a nap. :-( Mmmm... nap sounds good.

Goodnight. :-P

Newness of Life

I'm not sure I've ever been as excited about the start of a New Year as I am this year. The last year has been a difficult one, but also an incredibly victorious one. We have struggled to find jobs at times, had to find a new place to live, dealt with the usual newlywed marital issues, to say nothing of the immense difficulties, both personal and financial, caused by chronic health problems. Yet through it all we have always, by God's grace, managed to find everything that we need. We are getting by financially, preparing for a new career (Paul applying to grad school and me getting ready to apply for a teaching position at an online school), continuing to grow in our marriage, and starting a new treatment for my Lyme disease. I have such a strong sense of how very much we have to look forward to in 2012!

So far the new year is starting off right. Yesterday, we officially submitted Paul's first MBA application to the Yale School of Management! There are still several more schools to finish in a short amount of time but it feels great to know that one is completely finished! This morning, I started the last stage of new meds/supplements, including the doxycylene (antibiotic). Now, the real healing begins! I am going to attempt to start posting more often, primarily for the sake of being able to track my symptoms and progress more carefully. Pester me if I'm not succeeding in this goal. ;-)

I am hoping I will soon fall into a good rhythm with all these new pills. As of today, I have to wake up at 7 to take one pill, go back to sleep until 8, wake up and take 3 more pills and some liquid garlic drops, and then wait until 9 before I am allowed to eat anything. Then, with breakfast, I have 11 more pills to take, then 3 with lunch, 3 more in the mid-afternoon (at least 2 hours after lunch but 4 hours before dinner), 4 with dinner, and then some powder that tastes like orange sand every night before bed and some goop that looks like mustard twice a week before bed. Ack!

I felt surprisingly good when I woke up this morning, but I appear to be getting increasingly more lethargic the more time that passes. This is backwards from how a normal day used to go! I wonder if it's the anitbiotics. I am supposed to go out and make cake pops with some friends in a bit. Come on body, you can do it!

In the meantime... naptime. ;-)
(Romans 6:4)