One Year Later: Especially Grateful

For those of you who've read my past Lyme blog posts, much of this will be repetition. It is a re-cap. It is, truly, an expression of thanks.

Last year right before Thanksgiving, I was diagnosed with Lyme disease. Thanksgiving night, I began treatment. As predicted, I got much worse before I got any better, as the insidious little buggers fought against the antibiotics and all my symptoms became exponentially exaggerated. For years, the buggers (spirochetes) had been comfortable having me as host--happy to thrive, multiply and wreak systemic havoc.

After fits and starts to find the right course of treatment, I noticed larger and larger strides in my recovery. I finally had hope. After one year, I am still on treatment (two 21-gauge needles attached to a vial of thick, white--expensive--self-injected, self-paid Bicillin every three days) but my life has come 180. 180 as in I now function at about half of my former self's capacity. I will be on medication until those buggers are dead or inactive.

I am especially grateful for the doctor who diagnosed me (we searched for a diagnosis for over three years prior to meeting him; he diagnosed me within one month). He treats me with respect and dignity. He is the expert, but I am in control of decisions around my recovery.

I am especially grateful for my husband who has been my driver, cook, errand-runner, support system and nurse. I don't know anyone with his steadfast patience and commitment. I wouldn't have made it without him.

I am especially grateful to the sons and daughters-in-love who support me and who go out of their ways to brighten my days. And to my grandbabies who are the gleaming rainbows at the end of this tunnel. To extended family for your love.

I am especially grateful for the best of best friends, for friends who are angels, for old friends and new. To my three furry-purries who instinctively know when I am in need of comfort.

I am especially grateful for an Assistant Editor/friend who picks up where I am forced to leave off to keep my poetry ventures on-track. And to the countless poet/friends who hold me up with their myriad kindnesses.

To Maine--where I found my soul--and that I am blessed to be able to work from my home in the Maine woods.

To ILADS (International Lyme and Associated Diseases Society) for their continued battle against outdated, exclusionary "conventional" wisdom.

http://www.ilads.org/media/ilads_jumbotron.php

To Under Our Skin (the documentary) for the courage to inform, lead, and press on.

http://www.underourskin.com

This is an especially thankful Thanksgiving.