I keep putting off writing this update, because for some
reason, I thought I had already shared the “latest news”. I guess that’s what happens when you feature a
guest post instead of writing your own. It still feels like an update! And yet,
so much has happened since Jack’s birthday party. So much good.
Since the details of this post have already been written and
dismissed in my mind, I am sure I am missing out on some information; hopefully
it isn’t anything too important. You
know that saying, “if it’s really important you’ll remember” or something to
that effect? Drives. Me. Nuts. Clearly doesn’t apply to those with neurological
deficits; and plain unfair to the person who just can’t put their finger on it.
Mother’s Day crept up almost unannounced. Time is a funny
thing when you are sick: dragging by, and then gone all at once. More often than not these days I find time
just flies. It is especially marked by
the feeling of missing yet another one of life’s events. But not Mother’s Day.
Not this year. While being
excruciatingly tired, I managed to get myself out of bed and out the door in
time twenty-five minutes late for brunch.
I truly believe they should add that to “The List” of Lyme symptoms:
chronic lateness. Mostly due to the fact that it is nearly impossible to wake
up. Though I must say, with the help of sunlight and the SAD light upon waking
up, it is finally getting easier to do so. I was far too sensitive to light
before to even make that a possibility, so it is a milestone I am quite
grateful for.
Brunch was lovely.
Jack, as always, was thrilled to discover I was coming along. I received
the usual joyful, “Hello Mommy!” chirped from the backseat, with an excited, “you’re
coming, too?!!” as I entered the car. That alone gives me enough energy to keep
going most trips. Besides getting to eat brunch next to my beautiful
Grandmother and my little man, I was also able to keep my nephew occupied while
we waited for the bill. But the best was yet to come! That afternoon, we packed
up and headed to the park for a cook-out. It is a place that holds a lot of
meaning for me; as a child, growing up, we spent many Father’s Day afternoons
at that park with our extended family—racing siblings and cousins down the
parallel slides.
Jack and I had an adventure with gardening while Matt was
away at work, filling the few planters we have downsized to with flowers my
mother-in-law helped me select. It was my first attempt at planting without the
instruction of someone experienced; and with Jack by my side, and his inheritance
of generations of gardening genes, we set to work. And boy, was it hard work! I
was full of pride and short of breath by the time I came in, muddy and
satisfied with the work we had done. I
was able to get out another time before the week was over to get some overdo
spring clean-up done in the yard, and go for a short walk with Jack.
Most recently, I have been herxing/battling a
cold/recovering from my nephew’s birthday party, all since the beginning of June. It
was a great gift to see so many friends that I hadn’t in so long, and put my
love for party planning/hosting to use by helping out my sister a bit. And much
to my surprise, during the party, I wasn’t anxious! In a house FULL of people,
I was fine. It has since been a boring stretch, and very unfortunately
(but not surprisingly) my low fell on Matt’s days off again. If I could just
herx while he was away! One of these times, I will get in synch with his work
schedule, and I will be able to share my days “off” with his. My last bit of
progress to share is this: Last week I read a novel. It was the first time
since I was in the States (September of 2011), that I was able to read a whole
novel. Only this time, I could focus. I remembered the characters names and the
plot, instead of having to push through for the sake of progress. It was difficult to fix my attention to at
first, but after the first chapter, I was fine. I can read! And I
did read: a novel, all in one night.
I have been reading, hearing about, and receiving news of
tragedy in its many forms, seemingly non-stop over these past few weeks;
tragedies, that I feel, I could personally just not bear. And it has impressed itself upon my heart the profound knowledge that everybody is carrying a cross. Everybody. For so long I felt that this couldn’t be happening to
me; that it wasn’t. It was surreal: to have a seizure, to hallucinate, to
undergo surgery, to give myself daily injections and IV’s. But slowly, and with
help, I have borne this disease. It is my cross. I have wondered how anyone
could be grateful for something like this, and I have tried. I have been
indebted to the friends and family that have helped me along the way. I have
praised God for the blessings and beauty he brings out of the ashes. But I had
not yet been grateful for Lyme
disease. How could I be? Now I know. Because it isn’t the cross of losing a
child; it isn’t the cross of losing a spouse. It isn’t the cross of living with
this disease, or any other; because I am not living with it—I am killing it. I
am winning over it. I was dying, but I am not anymore. I can carry my cross,
and I am so grateful it is mine.
Praying for all of you, and the crosses you bear.
Blessings and HOPE,
Kate
“Come to me, all
you that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke on
you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart:
and you shall find
rest to your souls.
For my yoke is
easy, and my burden is light.”
Matthew 11:28-30
