Fear

Yesterday, I was driving across town with my two kids. We were en route to the great little fish market in our town to pick up salmon to cook for dinner. It was raining, but the sun was shining, so I told the kids to look for a rainbow. My older son quickly pointed out a fading double rainbow in the sky. I'm a sucker for rainbows, but this one was hard to see and I recall saying, "I'd better watch the road so we don't wreck!"

Moments later, we got on the interstate and came up over a hill. Suddenly, I saw brake lights in front of me and I realized that the car in front of me had abruptly slammed on their brakes to avoid something. I glanced ahead and saw that traffic in both lanes was completely stopped.

The roads were wet--my least favorite of all driving conditions since I've had two absolutely terrifying car wrecks in the rain (I talk about the other wreck here). I jammed on my brakes as hard as I could and we came mere inches from hitting the car in front of us. As soon as I hit the brakes, I instinctively hit my emergency flashers in an attempt to give the car behind me enough warning to avoid rear-ending us. They slammed to a stop, and I saw in my rear view mirror the car behind them veer off into the grass on the right to avoid missing them.

I heard loud squealing brakes and watched in horror as the cars right behind us in the lane next to us were not so lucky. Three cars veered off to the left to avoid crashing, lost control and went directly into oncoming traffic. According to a local news station, there were six cars involved, but amazingly only one person was transferred to the hospital (with unknown injuries).

It was scary to be right in front of that car wreck. Obviously, it was much better than being in the car wreck, but still, it was a very stark reminder of how truly fragile life is. A traumatic car accident can shatter your peace of mind forever. Having two traumatic car accidents can really do a number on your sanity. Watching helplessly last night as others had a traumatic car accident left me very, very shaken.

My Car--The Organ Donor--After my Car Accident

It could have been us. We could have slid into on-coming traffic. But it wasn't us. We were okay; we are okay. It's hard to feel so vulnerable. I remember how difficult it was for me to get back in a car after both of my car accidents, particularly the second one, because I had been the one driving the vehicle and I had been the one who had to get back in the driver's seat.

It is so easy to let what if fears consume you. What if I hydroplane. What if I wreck again. What if. I came across this beautiful story this morning about a woman who overcame her fear of driving again after her own traumatic car accident.

I don't want to live a life of fear. I don't want to live a life of what ifs. Being human means being vulnerable. You can either let that fear consume you or you can choose to live life to its fullest. The choice is up to each and every one of us.

Which Came First: The Chicken or the Egg?

We made it home late Saturday evening from our week long vacation in Muskoka, Ontario. I went to Lake Muskoka for the first time with my soon-to-be husband in 2001. His family has been going there for years and it didn't take much for me, too, to fall in love with the area. In 2009, married and with two youngsters, we returned to Muskoka for a seven day vacation. When I left in 2009, my life was forever turned upside down by Lyme disease.

I often find myself wondering which came first--the chicken or the egg? Did I already unknowingly have Lyme disease when I went on my trip or did I contract it in Canada? I never saw a tick on me, but I never checked. And considering only 50% of people ever recall a tick bite, that complicates things a bit.

I know this much is true: My mother found a tick crawling on her when she was pregnant with me. She found a very engorged tick behind my ear when I was a child. I had another tick bite in 2001, after which I now know I contracted at least babesiosis.  In June of 2009, I was in a very traumatic car accident in which I flipped our car. I now know that Lyme disease can lie dormant in your body and that the stress of a car accident can bring it out of dormancy. The chicken or the egg...

A few days into the trip to Canada in August 2009, two months after my car accident, I got an intensely itchy rash under both of my armpits. Was that the sign that I had just contracted Lyme disease? Or perhaps that was the moment I contracted one or more of my other tick-borne diseases, since tests have revealed that I have several, and not just Lyme disease.

Was it the mosquitoes? Was it the trip to a mini-golf course where I sat on the rock walls under the trees while I waited my turn--an area that would have been paradise for hungry ticks? I went downhill quickly after the rash. One symptom turned into 70+ over the next few months. I blamed Canada. I blamed Muskoka. I blamed that damn mini-golf course. (An additional slap in the face was the fact that I came in last place during that mini-golf game--losing even to my six year old son.)

Needless to say, going back to the same area where it was highly possible that I contracted Lyme disease was quite frightening. But I've had two years to mull over the facts. I know that I've had symptoms of Lyme disease since I was quite young. I know that you can have Lyme disease and not be disabled from it, and that it can also go into dormancy. I know that my car wreck was very traumatic. I know that I ate a lot of sugar on my trip to Canada in 2009 and it's highly possible that my body, already weakened from the stress of my car wreck, was extra susceptible to candida--which could have accounted for the reason for my downward spiral after the rash.

When we arrived at our cottage last week, I was very scared. There were trees, tall grass and wildlife all around us. Our silly new friend "Chippy" the Chipmunk greeted us at the window several times a day--quite a treat if you don't know much about Lyme disease, but for those of us with The Fear, we know that cute little animals just like Chippy carry ticks and drop off the tiny hitchhikers a little too close for comfort. The fear of being rebitten is a constant threat.

When we planned this trip at the beginning of the year, I couldn't imagine that I would be well enough to go. The thought of enduring an 11+ hour car trip seemed like a cruel joke, since simply riding in a car across town was often too much for my weak body. It was in March of this year that my doctor struck gold with the medicine that would give me my life back, and I thought--really thought--about the reality of setting foot back in the place where my life fell apart.

The thing is, this trip was a huge triumph for me. My body was able to handle a very long car trip. I was able to function all week. I was just like all the other happy vacationers without a care in the world. This trip was like finding my way home. It was my victory over being almost completely housebound for months on end. This was my victory over all the things Lyme disease took away from me. It was like finding the missing puzzle piece under the couch and being able to finally put in the last piece. I feel like I've come full circle now.

Lyme disease 4,000,000/ Alyson 4,000,0001. Yeah!!!

PS I still lost at mini-golf this time, even to my now-eight-year-old son. However, I did manage to beat my three year old, but only barely. I also managed a hole in one....except it was not the hole we were on. Ooops.

December 17th, 1990

I've never put this story into writing, but it's something I think about a lot. Today marks the 20th anniversary of a Christmas miracle.

Exactly twenty years ago to this day, my mom was driving me to my weekly dance class. Lost in lala land like a typical child, and likely thinking about the dream pony at the top of my Christmas list, I was suddenly jolted back to reality by my mother's screams. I looked up to see the most terrifying sight in my life: an 18 wheeler coming straight toward our vehicle.

In situations like that, it's really true what they say: my ten short years flashed before my eyes. It's odd how time works in moments like that: I literally had time to process and come to terms with what was happening in front of my eyes. Time stood still and I understood that my mother and I were about to die. Obviously, since I'm writing this story (and since I'm not a ghost!), you know that didn't happen. So let me back up a little bit.

We had just been getting on the interstate when the 18 wheeler, traveling in the opposite direction, came up over the hill too quickly, and in an effort to avoid hitting the car in front of it, swerved into the median. The truck driver lost control and then noticed us. I watched as the truck driver, in a futile but noble attempt to avoid colliding with us, tried to flip the truck over the hill. The cab rocked back and forth and then tipped over, causing the entire truck to crash to its side. It did not flip over the hill. Instead it began sliding toward us like that.

Because we weren't fully up to speed and because we were still on the entrance ramp, my mom put our vehicle in reverse, which is why we are both still alive. We still collided pretty hard, but the impact wasn't enough to kill us, as it surely would have, had she not thought so quickly on her toes!

My mother and I walked away that day (actually, I think we both ran in fear of our vehicle blowing up) from a car accident that should have claimed both of our lives. Not many people can say they walked away from an accident involving an 18 wheeler! To our family, it was nothing short of a Christmas miracle.

My Quilt

Last year I fell in love with a beautiful quilt in an antique store with a price tag of $250! My husband was not about to let me shell out that kind of money for a ratty old blanket (nor did we have that kind of money to shell out for a ratty old blanket!), so I got it into my stubborn head that I would just have to make my own.

Coincidentally, I had just seen a pattern for the same exact kind of quilt in a magazine that month. The quilt is called Grandmother's Flower Garden. It involves hand-stitching hundreds of tiny hexagons together, a daunting task even for an advanced quilter, let alone me, someone whose quilting skills involved sewing together several (uneven) squares and securing the layers together with yarn. But one look at that pricey quilt in the store and it was too late for me. I had never seen anything so beautiful and, in typical Alyson-fashion, I was head over heels in love before I even knew what hit me!

I knew that this quilt was going to take a very, very long time to finish, and that was okay with me from the get-go. I got it into my head that as long as I was done with it by the time my grandchildren were born, that was good enough for me! I still have a long way to go on the quilt (and my children are far from the age when I have to worry about grandchildren, so thankfully I still have plenty of time), but never in my life could I have anticipated just how much this quilt and I would go through together in the long journey to finish it.

I never planned it this way, but in the beginning, I would start rummaging through old clothes looking for a certain color to use for the quilt. Soon, one flower was made with my old maternity dress; another was made from my husband's old favorite pajama pants (with permission of course; they were ripped!); one of my kids' onsies, and so on. Then I started asking people for things to put into the quilt. Before I knew it, I had worked in things from my mom, my step-dad and countless other family members and friends, and my quilt was becoming very sentimental!

I started bringing my quilt with me everywhere I went. The flowers were small enough that I could take them anywhere to work on. I started dragging them around to people's houses, to my doctor's visits, etc. When I started the quilt, my youngest son was having a lot of health problems. He had to have some procedures done in the hospital, including surgery. I was a nervous wreck, but I poured it all into my quilt!

One day, I loaded up the quilt in the front seat of my car and set off to visit my best friend. I had been working on a very special piece and was excited to show it to her. I was making a flower in memory of my beloved grandfather, who had passed away a few years earlier. My grandma had given me fabric from his work shirt and his pajamas, and I was piecing it together with fabric from a good friend. It was raining that day, and despite the fact that I was driving extra slowly, I hydroplaned and flipped the car. I was terrified, but okay. I stood there looking at my upside-down car. I was so thankful that I was okay and that my kids weren't with me, but surely my beloved quilt was ruined!! My heart was broken. All that hard work, down the drain! All the love I had poured into my quilt, the hours, the sweat, the tears! I managed to blubber to someone who had stopped to help me that my very special quilt was in my car.

My mother-in-law picked me up and drove me home. A few hours later, there was a knock on the door. Unbeknownst to me, people had gone through my upside-down car, with glass everywhere, and managed to pick up every single tiny hexagon from the flower I had been working on. They brought me my quilt which, miraculously, other than a few tiny shards of glass, was absolutely fine! I have never in my life been so touched by the kindness of strangers!

Now my quilt and I are going through the hell of Lyme Disease together. As I sew one more tiny hexagon into my quilt, it represents one more piece of my life. My story, my journey, is decorated with the people I love, and reflected back to me in my quilt. I don't know how my story will end, or when my quilt will be done. I do know that one day, I will put in a hexagon and it will represent how I survived Lyme Disease, and how it almost took my life. I am a survivor and my quilt is a survivor. Now I must go, there is work to be done and hexagons to sew...