Seven.

Seven. 

Today marks seven years since I started Lyme treatment. Seven years ago I swallowed the first pill on this journey. The first literal pill, of course. I swallowed the first metaphorical pill long before that. 

I remember that appointment seven years ago today like it was yesterday. I remember the tears falling down my face as my doctor handed me the prescriptions. I remember the relief and also the fear that came along with those little pieces of paper. I remember thinking that we were on to something, my doctor and myself. That we were going to beat this beast together. 

Never in my wildest imagination could I have seen myself where I am today. In so many ways. 

Seven years ago. 

Seven. 

I did my best to ignore the emotions that came with that realization this morning when it popped up on my Facebook. I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t post anything about it until now. I didn’t want to make a deal out of it. I tried my best to push the emotions to the back of my mind. But, ultimately, they’re there. They’re very much there. A decade—seven years of treatment plus a few years before—of this battle brings a lot with it. 

And I think that’s okay. 

Seven years...Of pain. Of fear. Of frustration. Of anxiety. Of confusion. Of exhaustion. Of loss.

Seven years...Of growth. Of strength. Of change. Of love. Of friendship. Of hope. 

Here’s to seven years. And here’s to hoping this is the last.