Thursday, May 22, 2014

The Big Bad Wolf

My blog has been deep in hibernation for many months as I've been cozied up in my den with my wee baby girl. But ever so softly (and then louder and louder AND LOUDER) my heart has been crying out to write again; my soul needs to unburden itself of this heavy load that's been silently weighing it down.

My baby is no longer a newborn--she's nearly seven months old. And for those seven months--as I've watched my health slip--I've played the part of Little Red Riding Hood, post that whole my-grandma-is-a-wolf fiasco. Every leaf rustling on the way to Grandma's house is a wolf. Every symptom coming back is unnerving. My basket of goodies is filled not with sweets, but instead with fear and uncertainty.

But (and that's a big BUT), I beat this disease into remission once, and I WILL do it again. However, if you have never lived a day with Lyme disease, you cannot truly know the wolf that stalks you. The fear. The terror. The uncertainty. The unknown. The what ifs.

The big bad wolf has me on his dinner menu, but I'm not going down without one hell of a fight. And the first step is admitting this much: I'm sick again. I have to swallow a million pills a day again. I'm scared. I don't want to go through this again. I hate this disease. What I want more than anything, is to educate others so that they never have to go through the pain of this disease.  For me. For you. For the big bad wolf, snarling at me and eying you up, next.

Little Red Riding Hood

Check yourself, protect yourself; know the symptoms. And if your grandma has fangs, run like hell!