Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Four.

Four years ago today I put the first pill into my body to fight back against my lyme. It was an antibiotic given to me by the first doctor who believed me. The first doctor who said "we will figure this out". And the first doctor who was taken from me, and so many others, just for giving us the help we needed. 

Four years ago today I felt hopeful. I thought I would take some medicine, listen and do what I was told, and get better. I knew it wasn't going to be an easy road, but I had no clue how long and bumpy it really was going to be. I had no clue that I would be faced with finding a new doctor, without any warning. I had no clue that I would finally get the positive test that I needed, but not for a few long years after I took that first pill. I had no clue that I would have to push harder than I knew possible to get through college while I was sicker than I ever had been. I had no clue that the port I had put in three days after I graduated college would not be my last one. And I had no clue that now, four years later, I would still be sick and again left looking for a new doctor without any warning. 

Four years ago today I thought I knew what it meant to be sick. I thought I had reached the sickest I could be, but only because it was the sickest I had ever been...yet. I thought I knew what it meant to be tired. And I thought I had seen the worst of what the lyme life had to offer.

But I had no clue. 

Now today, four years later, here I am. I have learned never to think that it can't possibly get worse, because my body is a pro at proving that it can. (And while I admire its determination and confidence in its abilities to make me sicker, I wish it didn't constantly feel the need to prove that to me.) I have learned to never assume that this round of treatment is the last, because I will only end up disappointed when it isn't. I have learned that doctors leave--some by choice, and some in ways completely out of their control--but, despite that, lyme doesn't leave. I have learned that tired isn't a feeling that I experience anymore, it's just a characteristic--just part of who I am. (Leigh: red-headed, freckled, determined, creative, tired.) And I have learned that adversity is something that comes with the territory, along with the heartbreak of being faced with it time and time again. 

But, I have also learned that I am strong. I have discovered strength within myself that I didn't even know was possible. I have pushed through, and continue to push through, things that feel absolutely impossible. And I have learned that there will always be some days that I go to bed thinking "How?! How did I make it through today?" I have learned that things that I thought were a big deal four years ago aren't even close to important today. And I have learned that other people aren't going to understand that. But I have also learned that, given the opportunity, people really do want to learn more about what I'm going through. I have learned that I can, in fact, swallow upwards of ten pills at one time, but only with really cold water or something with bubbles. (Pro tip: if you can't feel your throat, you won't feel the pills as they jockey for position on their way down.) And, most importantly, I have learned that I can do anything. I can get through anything. Lyme is tough, but I am WAY tougher. 

Four years ago today I was a different person. 

Am I worn down and exhausted? Absolutely. 

Are there times that I want to throw in the towel? More than I want to admit.

Am I still hesitant to believe that I'm going to get better? Of course.

But am I hopeless? Far from it. 

I heard a quote once that was along the lines of "as long as I'm breathing I can hope." And I couldn't have said it better myself. I will always have hope.

So, here's to four years of treatment.  And here's to hoping that this year is the last! 



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