What I’m Fighting For…

 

In 2012 I diagnosed myself with Lyme disease.  Back then, the doctors knew very little about this enigmatic, all consuming, pain wracking illness.  The Reader’s Digest version?  It began with a small lump in my upper thigh, perhaps the size of a peanut M&M.  Hypochondriac that I am prone to being, I asked the doctor during a visit for my Suboxyne.

“Probably a fatty tumor, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Peter said.

But you haven’t looked at it.  You didn’t ask me to take down my pants.  Like the doormat I was, I smiled and headed out the door.  I returned a month later, the M&M was now a small avocado.  Again, he didn’t even ask to see it.  Shame on me for not leaving the practice immediately; like I said, back then I was a completely different person, I scurried away with the nagging feeling that this was not over, not by a long shot.

By Christmas, I was in pathetic shape.  Constant fevers, mind numbing fatigue, aches and pains so brutal, I was incapable of walking most days.  My husband and I demanded to see another doctor in the process, and as I walked past the receptionist area-all heads turned to see the pathetic case in the shabby robe and bunny slippers.  The M&M was now a grapefruit.  I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why I didn’t seek help elsewhere.

The good doctor sent me for an ultrasound resulting in a uterine biopsy, which turned up nothing.  A week later I saw her in her office.

“I have Lyme disease.  I have done my research, please script me a month’s worth of Doxycycline.”

She teared up when she said, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think…

Within a month I was completely back to normal.  I took on a job as a Direct Support provider for a company who cared for those with Intellectual Disabilities-I worked like crazy, taking on as many hours as I could, so thankful to be “normal” again.

In 2017, I suffered two bullseye rashes at separate times-both treated with Doxy.  By 2018, I was given the diagnoses of Chronic Lyme.  I went through a hospitalization for vertigo, broke my shoulder on a hike (the disease affects the brain, and with that comes dreadful balance) and ended up with one hell of an infection in the very same lymph node.  I had no energy.  I was sick constantly-all through Winter and well into Spring.  I had to quit work, which devastated us financially.

Two weeks ago I was bitten, again, by a deer tick.  I put myself on my church prayer list, got on my knees and pled my case with Abba.  I felt so stymied and completely hopeless; wasn’t there a way?  I made an appointment with a specialist for October, and prayed.  My doctor was so inept, that when I asked him to order the Western Blot test (absolutely key in diagnoses) he told me no, that my insurance wouldn’t pay-

We know you have Lyme.  We don’t need a blood test.

I was frightened.  I asked Jesus, will this be my future?

Two weeks ago, after discovering the latest tick bite, I remembered a friend at church telling me that Stevia kills Lyme disease a few months back.  I bought the store brand, and occasionally put the way too sweet stuff in my coffee.  But this day, I was led to do some research.  You can’t get well using refined Stevia-it must come from the leaf extract.

I hurried to the local nursery and bought the last Stevia plant left.  I ate one leaf a day for one week.  The bullseye disappeared.  My symptoms vanished.  I now eat a leaf every other day.  A side effect of Stevia is that it kills the Borrelia Burgdorferi, the spirochete responsible for causing the illness and debilitating side effects.  You can order the extract on Amazon, which I will do to ensure I have access to the plant in the Winter months.

Please take my advice-give it to God, and never ever give up hope.  Through Christ you can do all things-He will give you the strength and fortitude-to move mountains-but we need to ask him first.

***This song is about Avril’s fight with Lyme.

Be blessed~

He’s Just a Shout Away….

 

After a three day weekend of sitting on my hind end, I bust out of the gate in record time this morning!  I stopped drinking the joe, you know-my anxiety, and I have three words people, three words.  

My effing head.

Holy headache Batman!  Momma never told me there’d be days like this; but then again, she drank a pot a day…I remember well the mornings she would rise before the crack of dawn; to make our lunches and breakfast from scratch.  As an anorexic, I was beyond privileged to have homemade salads and gourmet cheese for lunch.  And French dressing, please.  The girls at my lunch table (the crew team from Upper Merion, my Alma Mater) envied me so much they started to bring salads themselves.  My arch nemesis, Kathy Quarto (sweet Jesus she was so competitive with me, until I finally got good and angry…and beat her ass at our annual one mile run) copied each and everything I did, because she saw how thin I was and I suppose she wanted to slim down.  I is who I is, and didn’t like her constant nearness, watching every move I made.

I remember the day well.  Beautiful, sunny Fall day.  I was on the Varsity Crew team for various reasons:  my brother was and I followed him everywhere.  Hmm.  Perhaps that was Karma for treating Kathy so impatiently, ’cause I know for a fact he hated the shadowing.  Craig was a member of the UM Varsity Four, which took first place (I was their coxswain) so often we were invited to Belgium for Finals.  I didn’t go, as I was embroiled in a bad case of anorexia/bulimia.  But back to the race…

Kathy had beat me at, well, everything.  But this day would be different, and I’m pretty sure I shocked the shit right out of the girl when I beat her by 18 seconds.  Of course I peed my pants in doing so, the team was cheering me on as I ran straight past the finish line and into the locker room.  I believe my brother carried me to the car that day…I won, but I broke myself.  🙂

What made the difference on this day of days?

I prayed.

Father God, this chic is a pain in my apple!!!  I can’t shake her, so please let me, just once, beat her ass into oblivion.

She didn’t speak to me for months.

Got trouble?

He’s just a shout away…

I Cut You Off……..

 

I have NEVER heard of this band, but I can tell you this-I will be listening from now on.

When it comes to Narcissistic Personality Disorder, I know a few things, and what I know brings me to my knees. The echoes of earlier years, when she and I were close and loving. The survivor’s guilt I feel, which makes no sense as I didn’t get away unscathed-anorexia, bulimia, OCD, CPTSD, alcoholism, depression and crippling anxiety? Yet I worry about the fate of my sister, I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t.

This is what victims need to come to terms with: whether you lose a lover, a mother or a friend-you are losing the idea of who you thought they were.

And if you offer a hand to help them up and out of the muck and mire? Be prepared to see them walk away, because they don’t think they need help-they don’t think they have done anything wrong. Their brain is misfiring and they will think absolutely nothing of dragging you down with them, so FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT to ensure that you are physically, emotionally and spiritually prepared to go to war.

Then, once you have gone no contact? Enjoy the return of your creativity, self esteem and individuality.

No one can do this for you. Just remember: you are missing the ghost of the person you thought them to be.

And She Was……

There is a well known fact in this household, rarely spoken of, but my heart beats for him continuously, and he has earned my adoration.  David Byrne, MARRY ME.  🙂  I had the pure privilege of seeing the Talking Heads at Emerald City in Philadelphia, circa 1980.  Front row.  The rolling melodies and heart thumping bass can still be heard in my head, and I am dead serious when I say that the female guitarist made a pass at me.  Ah, the good old days when rock was rock and  a spade a spade.

I had a horrible nightmare last night.  Or I should say this morning-Dwain had decided to go to work, despite the blizzard conditions-he wasn’t answering my calls, he was nowhere to be found.  I awoke in a cold sweat, extremely anxious and confused.  Moments later, while sipping hot coffee, I phoned my husband and my nerves were calmed just by the sound of his voice.  Strange way to start the day…….

As I walked down to the garage, to feed the feline community, I felt it-or, perhaps didn’t feel it is a better way to say this.  No pain.  During Lyme flares, my feet are constantly in pain.  Bone pain, muscle pain-I don’t let it slow me down, but the mere fact that I was pain free was reason enough to look up at the sky and praise Him.  My lymph node has diminished, and there is even a noticeable lift in my loafers.  Oh, how beautiful life is.  And here’s the thang-none of us are promised more than this day.  We have a choice-to be positive among the chaos and confusion, carpe diem,  or, as I did yesterday-we can pout, stomp our feet and be a miserable pain in the ass in general, bringing everyone around us on edge, walking upon proverbial eggshells.

I fail Him each and every day, by thought and deed.  I repent, ask for forgiveness, and concentrate on my future-with my main man, golden retriever and Yeshua-and between the four of us?  We have this, He is working in our lives, whether we see rainbows or coffins-the choice is ours, and I choose life-oh, my dear friends, I choose life~

 

 

What I’m Fighting For…

 

In 2012 I diagnosed myself with Lyme disease.  Back then, the doctors knew very little about this enigmatic, all consuming, pain wracking illness.  The Reader’s Digest version?  It began with a small lump in my upper thigh, perhaps the size of a peanut M&M.  Hypochondriac that I am prone to being, I asked the doctor during a visit for my Suboxyne.

“Probably a fatty tumor, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Peter said.

But you haven’t looked at it.  You didn’t ask me to take down my pants.  Like the doormat I was, I smiled and headed out the door.  I returned a month later, the M&M was now a small avocado.  Again, he didn’t even ask to see it.  Shame on me for not leaving the practice immediately; like I said, back then I was a completely different person, I scurried away with the nagging feeling that this was not over, not by a long shot.

By Christmas, I was in pathetic shape.  Constant fevers, mind numbing fatigue, aches and pains so brutal, I was incapable of walking most days.  My husband and I demanded to see another doctor in the process, and as I walked past the receptionist area-all heads turned to see the pathetic case in the shabby robe and bunny slippers.  The M&M was now a grapefruit.  I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why I didn’t seek help elsewhere.

The good doctor sent me for an ultrasound resulting in a uterine biopsy, which turned up nothing.  A week later I saw her in her office.

“I have Lyme disease.  I have done my research, please script me a month’s worth of Doxycycline.”

She teared up when she said, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think…

Within a month I was completely back to normal.  I took on a job as a Direct Support provider for a company who cared for those with Intellectual Disabilities-I worked like crazy, taking on as many hours as I could, so thankful to be “normal” again.

In 2017, I suffered two bullseye rashes at separate times-both treated with Doxy.  By 2018, I was given the diagnoses of Chronic Lyme.  I went through a hospitalization for vertigo, broke my shoulder on a hike (the disease affects the brain, and with that comes dreadful balance) and ended up with one hell of an infection in the very same lymph node.  I had no energy.  I was sick constantly-all through Winter and well into Spring.  I had to quit work, which devastated us financially.

Two weeks ago I was bitten, again, by a deer tick.  I put myself on my church prayer list, got on my knees and pled my case with Abba.  I felt so stymied and completely hopeless; wasn’t there a way?  I made an appointment with a specialist for October, and prayed.  My doctor was so inept, that when I asked him to order the Western Blot test (absolutely key in diagnoses) he told me no, that my insurance wouldn’t pay-

We know you have Lyme.  We don’t need a blood test.

I was frightened.  I asked Jesus, will this be my future?

Two weeks ago, after discovering the latest tick bite, I remembered a friend at church telling me that Stevia kills Lyme disease a few months back.  I bought the store brand, and occasionally put the way too sweet stuff in my coffee.  But this day, I was led to do some research.  You can’t get well using refined Stevia-it must come from the leaf extract.

I hurried to the local nursery and bought the last Stevia plant left.  I ate one leaf a day for one week.  The bullseye disappeared.  My symptoms vanished.  I now eat a leaf every other day.  A side effect of Stevia is that it kills the Borrelia Burgdorferi, the spirochete responsible for causing the illness and debilitating side effects.  You can order the extract on Amazon, which I will do to ensure I have access to the plant in the Winter months.

Please take my advice-give it to God, and never ever give up hope.  Through Christ you can do all things-He will give you the strength and fortitude-to move mountains-but we need to ask him first.

***This song is about Avril’s fight with Lyme.

Be blessed~

Warrior…

She is a mystery, really. Waiflike and Elfin, this woman I call friend. An inspiration to one and all who know her, I am grateful that she turned my way, heard my song, and accepted me for myself-no judgement.

Erin and I met at a yard sale, held by my church, two Summers ago. She was selling essential oils, and her booth was next to my table-adorned with antique vases, my own creation, and nothing sold. I wandered over to her, immediately struck by her innate beauty……she gently took a bottle of Lavender, and put it on my wrist.

“Smell that,” she smiled. I knew right then and there that we were kindred spirits. I booked a show and thought how rare it was to find an authentic person selling her wares. She was down to earth, sweet to the core, yet a hardened energy surrounded her-as if she had seen things a girl her age shouldn’t. As if she knew that life was fragile, as if she knew my heart was broken-permanently at that time in my life. I didn’t fit in, and I knew this, but I had hope, and that is the best we can wish for in an increasingly wary world.

I didn’t expect to hear from her, but I was encouraged by her soft spoken lilt. We set a date. As it turned out, no one came to the party-and that was AOK in our book. More time to get to know one another, I thought.

The phone rang and startled me out of the conversation. It was the crazy cat lady, a recent acquaintance. She knew I was having the shindig, and as far as she knew, my house was filled with women, wanting to know more about the amazing healing powers that are attributed to essential oils.

“I can’t take it any longer. I am going to kill myself.”

This wasn’t the first, nor the last time she would try to manipulate me. She lived in her car, as her home was full of cats-one hundred and twenty to be exact. I told her to just come over, but that was not what she wanted. She wanted to usurp her narcissistic ways, and have me leave my own party to run to her home and console her. I felt so guilty knowing that she was fragile, but Erin had driven quite a ways for nothing, and I never would have left her sitting in my living room, alone.

I came down the stairs, crying and truly embarrassed.

“I am a therapist, if that helps.”

Thus began a friendship unlike most others. She is a foster parent, with three girls to raise. She is stronger than strong, and I am in awe of her persistent good nature, despite what she’s up against. She is a Lady of the Canyon, to quote Joni Mitchell. She works with her hands, has a project going at any given moment, and she finds time to cook and bake, from scratch no less.

Her current situation makes her a Warrior in my book. She is preparing for chemotherapy, and worries more about her husband and children than she does herself. She has a 98% chance of survival, translated? She will go through some tough days ahead; but she will be fine, she will be cured.

She will rise again, like a Phoenix from the ashes-and of this I am quite sure.

He’s Just a Shout Away….

 

After a three day weekend of sitting on my hind end, I bust out of the gate in record time this morning!  I stopped drinking the joe, you know-my anxiety, and I have three words people, three words.  

My effing head.

Holy headache Batman!  Momma never told me there’d be days like this; but then again, she drank a pot a day…I remember well the mornings she would rise before the crack of dawn; to make our lunches and breakfast from scratch.  As an anorexic, I was beyond privileged to have homemade salads and gourmet cheese for lunch.  And French dressing, please.  The girls at my lunch table (the crew team from Upper Merion, my Alma Mater) envied me so much they started to bring salads themselves.  My arch nemesis, Kathy Quarto (sweet Jesus she was so competitive with me, until I finally got good and angry…and beat her ass at our annual one mile run) copied each and everything I did, because she saw how thin I was and I suppose she wanted to slim down.  I is who I is, and didn’t like her constant nearness, watching every move I made.

I remember the day well.  Beautiful, sunny Fall day.  I was on the Varsity Crew team for various reasons:  my brother was and I followed him everywhere.  Hmm.  Perhaps that was Karma for treating Kathy so impatiently, ’cause I know for a fact he hated the shadowing.  Craig was a member of the UM Varsity Four, which took first place (I was their coxswain) so often we were invited to Belgium for Finals.  I didn’t go, as I was embroiled in a bad case of anorexia/bulimia.  But back to the race…

Kathy had beat me at, well, everything.  But this day would be different, and I’m pretty sure I shocked the shit right out of the girl when I beat her by 18 seconds.  Of course I peed my pants in doing so, the team was cheering me on as I ran straight past the finish line and into the locker room.  I believe my brother carried me to the car that day…I won, but I broke myself.  🙂

What made the difference on this day of days?

I prayed.

Father God, this chic is a pain in my apple!!!  I can’t shake her, so please let me, just once, beat her ass into oblivion.

She didn’t speak to me for months.

Got trouble?

He’s just a shout away…