Lyme

It’s ironic. I started The Long Dark Hallway over a year ago to help me write through and cope with my battle of what I thought was clinical depression. Little did I know that over a year later, it would evolve into a chronicle of my journey with Lyme Disease – a disease that has robbed be of my being. I haven’t been depressed – I have had Lyme Disease. A disease that silently robbed me of my life and has gone undiagnosed for years.

I received my Lyme diagnosis last Thursday.

But like all major life events affiliated with Lyme, I didn’t have any major emotional reaction with my diagnosis. Instead, I heard the words, and kept floating. I stupidly assumed that my lack of reaction had to do with the depressive fog I have been living in for the past 3 years.

I quickly learned, as I started researching Lyme, that my floating reaction to life’s major events, is a common hallmark of Lyme.  The website Tired of Lyme describes Floating way better than my brain can comprehend right now, but here’s my best attempt. When something happy happens in your life, like the birth of a child, the change in seasons, or something that gives you a fond memory – do you get those excited butterflies in the pit of your stomach with the excitement and anticipation? I used to. I don’t anymore.

Instead, let me give you the most profound example of the Lyme-induced floating hell I have lived with. When my Daughter was born in 2010, after a long struggle with infertility, my initial reaction when the Dr. held her up for me to see was, “oh! that’s nice.” No emotion. No nothing.

Floating. The presence of the Lyme bacteria within the body has an extremely heavy and strong influence on the brain’s functions.

So many parts of who I am have been robbed because of the Lyme. I am a shell of who I once was. I don’t really “love” anything any longer. My love of writing = gone. My love of life = gone. I just want to feel something again.

Floating. I’m floating through my life.

I will do what I can to chronicle my long journey ahead. All I know is that the road is going to be absolute hell. When I first read about the Herxheimer Reaction or “Herxing” as it’s called, I nearly wanted to vomit. It sounds like a goddamn exorcism.

My treatment won’t begin until the holidays. I’m still unsure of what path I will take – but it looks like I will be getting a port, which will deliver high dose antibiotics through my body for around a year.

I’m scared. Or as scared as I can be while living with Lyme.

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lifeonkstreet.wordpress.com/

Wife, Mother to a toddler and Infertility Survivor

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