Possibly the Biggest News Yet.

I would have written this sooner, but since it has all been happening so quickly, I didn’t have enough information, or the chance, until now.

The night before our fundraiser, we had the most amazing, generous offer given to us. Our friend in Southern Alberta (who has battled Lyme as well) offered us a rare opportunity; in a sense, it is the chance to get better. He has selflessly loaned us his home so that we may be close to our Canadian doctor. Which means I will finally get to start the IV treatment we have been searching out for the past four-and-a-half months. Upon the consult of three doctors (our one in the States, the one in Alberta, and a trustworthy source close to home), we were confidently assured that this would be the “best,” “easiest,” and likely “only way” that I will be able to get the care I need. The loopholes we have been trying to find in this mess of knots don’t seem to exist, and as much as I really don’t (read: never ever, in my life, even-for-a-short-amount-of-time have ever wanted to) move, the thought of “easy” gives my weary heart peace; peace, and the strength I need to fight the increasingly hardest battle of my life.

We have hired a live-in nanny. She starts tomorrow, and has miraculously agreed to move with us. Matt’s work has graciously allowed him to return to his contract out-of-town, flying to and from the North West Territories weekly  from our new “home” instead. He is hoping to continue stress-leave for the week after we move, and stay in-town for my surgery. So, with my lively little boy, a nanny I don’t yet know, a small family I have grown to love, and my travelling husband, we will make what we can of this a home.

The timeline we have been given is subject to many factors, but extends anywhere from roughly 3 to 9 months. I will have to continue oral medication when we return; that being said, the aforementioned timeline is shorter than I was anticipating for IV treatment, which is a huge blessing. I was also told by my doctor that the levels of Lyme in my blood came back at a mere level of 3, (she currently has a patient with a titer of 51. 51!!) I was told to, “write down that number 3, and you look at that whenever you need hope.”

Have you noticed I like to leave the most pressing details for the end? (You can admit it, you skim looking for the important stuff!) The big question: when do we leave? This is the part I almost can’t believe, but we pack up and go in a mere 9 days. February 24^th.  (Have I mentioned I’m a “planner?” Nine days isn’t  much to work with!)

I’m a muddled ball of sadness, hope, peace, fear, weakness and strength all in one. When I think of our support system here at home: so amazing and loveable and energising—I almost can’t bear it. When I think of laying in this bed, in this room-- for the rest of my life-- I am so ready to do what is required, and can see the cost of staying is far greater than leaving.

I am sorry if this comes as a blow to anyone. I know it is a shock for us. I tried to call as many of you as I could. Please keep us in your prayers as we prepare full-speed ahead into this major life change, and if you would, ask that the Lord’s will be done? I’m too emotional to pray that prayer unceasingly, though it is the greatest desire of my heart.

Love to you all. We will only be a phone call, a Skype date, or an email away! (That was meant to console me more than you, but if you need it, I hope it helps!)

"I took you from the ends of the earth,

from its farthest corners I called you.

I said, 'You are my servant';

I have chosen you and have not rejected you.

So do not fear, for I am with you;

do not be dismayed, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you and help you;

I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

~ Isaiah 41:9-10 (Emphasis added).