Things That Go “Tweet” In The Night

My dear friend, Lisa, sent me a gift this past Christmas. It was a plastic, motion-sensor cardinal with instructions that I could throw it away if it was too annoying.

Cardinals are near to my heart. For a year and a half, I was too ill to leave the house. Through the office window, I spent many mornings watching as a pair of cardinals sang beautiful duets with each other. Their colors were mesmerizing. For me, they became a symbol of hope to remember there was life outside the walls of my apartment.

As I grew stronger and began to leave the house, I no longer saw my two, favorite birds.

Glimpses of them are rare these days. From time to time, I hear their lovely songs cascading from the treetops. I like to imagine the cardinals are bringing hope to someone else.

Every once in a while, a sweet friend or family member will send me a cardinal knickknack as a reminder of how far I’ve come on this journey. I opened Lisa’s gift and excitedly pulled out the small strip of paper that was blocking the motion sensor.

The plastic cardinal began to sing, “Tweeeet. Tweet tweet. Tweet tweet. Twee-e-e-e-eet.”

“This really works,” I thought to myself as I perched the cardinal on the mantle.

Dog number one walked past and the cardinal immediately began to sing.

Then, dog number two walked past and sure enough, it started to sing again. In fact, dog number two walked in front of the cardinal a few times, each time triggering the motion sensor.

Once again, the cardinal chirped when Hubby came close.

Realizing that the mantle was probably not the right place for this gift, I did what any sentimental gal would do with a hypersensitive, plastic, motion sensor cardinal:

I stuffed it in the sock drawer.

I couldn’t possibly toss it in the trash! I was very touched by Lisa’s thoughtful gesture.

Last night I had terrible insomnia from recently adding some medications to my treatment protocol. Frustrated by my inability to fall asleep, I got up to take the second half of my sleep meds. I fumbled around in the darkness until I had my pill container in one hand and a glass of water in the other. I took my sleep meds and set my glass on the dresser.

As I turned to crawl back into my bed, I heard a muffled sound coming from the top dresser drawer.

“Tweeeet. Tweet tweet. Tweet tweet. Twee-e-e-e-eet.”

The Absent-Minded Patient And A Treatment Update

The other day, I couldn’t find my cell phone. I looked under the bed, on top of tables and shelves and literally under every scrap of paper in the house. It had vanished.

Where could it be? I hadn’t even left the house in a week due to a blizzard and not feeling well from changing up my treatment plan.

Suddenly, I had an inkling, a vague recollection of what I was doing when I last had my phone in my hand.

I ran to the kitchen and threw open the refrigerator door. There, on the top shelf next to a loaf of Udi’s Gluten Free bread, was my cell phone! (This would be the appropriate place to insert an emoticon- the one with the wide-open eyes and a line for a mouth that basically says, “Oops. I did something stupid.”)

As I reached in to grab my already chilled phone (I estimate it had been in there for about an hour) I said out loud to absolutely no one, “And this folks…This is a perfect example of why you too should have the Life Proof cell phone case!”

I’m sure everyone has left their phone in the refrigerator at least once, right?

cell phone photo

I have a legit excuse for my absent-mindedness. I promise.

About two weeks ago, my nurse practitioner decided it was time to intensify my treatment. This generally leads to a few steps backwards as my body adapts to the changes. This time around however, the changes seemed to have stirred up some old symptoms with a vengeance.

We included the antibiotic, Flagyl, into my protocol to target bacteria that are in a specific form called, “cyst form.” This antibiotic packs a powerful punch and has left me feeling more fatigued than usual and foggy-headed (obviously).

I also said goodbye to my trusty companions of 16 months, Banderol and Samento, and added a more potent herbal formula, called A-L Complex, by Byron White. With an increase in joint pain, muscle spasms and a flare up of Interstitial Cystitis (an inflammatory bladder condition that I have had for 10 years), just one drop of this formula makes me feel like a car ran over me!

One measly drop!

I always say, “If I must go through this, at least it’s winter so I know I am not missing much.”

With today’s temp at a frigid 12 degrees, I feel sorry for anyone who has to leave the house!

Next week, I am meeting with my local Lyme doctor to discuss some strategies to deal with the increase in pain and fatigue I am experiencing. I hope he has some brilliant ideas for me.

To see my full, updated treatment plan, click here.