I seriously think I know every inch of my apartment. I have seen paint chips fall and new cracks form in the walls, evidence of the passage of time. I know what floor boards are unusually smooth, so instead of walking forward, I can choose to slide around in my socks.
I know which corner there is likely to be a spider hiding and which windows to look out to see squirrels jumping from the neighbor’s roof onto the treetops. This has been my view for the majority of the last four-and-a-half-years.
It would be false to say that there has been no improvement, but rather the improvements are often slow in coming and akin to the unhurried speed of watching paint dry.
This is my one-year treatment update.
I reflect upon this last year of treatment somewhat heavy-hearted. The ache of isolation is still present. The burden of years of not working and mounting medical expenses weighs heavy upon me. Fatigue-ladened days and almost nightly bouts of insomnia have left me drained. Still determined, I continue on with my treatment. However, no amount of resolve can change the ruthlessness that is Lyme Disease. If it were up to willpower, I would find myself healed by now.
I am glad I finally know I have Lyme Disease. I am grateful I have had the last 12 months to begin treating it, and hopefully, begin beating it. The pain of the difficulty of the last four-and-a-half-years still lingers though. The challenges are still great. The weariness is setting in.
“What changed? I thought you were doing better.” you may be asking.
“Better” is always relative to a bar that has been set quite low.
I began a new treatment protocol three months ago. It is intense and much like a Cancer patient undergoing chemo to attack the cancer cells, a Lyme Disease patient must undergo an aggressive treatment to attack the multitude of infections hiding in the body. At times, the treatment seems severe, even cruel, but the hope of a better quality of life and the desire to live compels me to press onward.
Normally, I write about the areas where I have experienced improvement during my treatment and set goals for the areas in which I would like to see further progress. This time however, I am penning an honest look at the ups and downs of living with a chronic illness. Sometimes, time passes with little to no improvement. Presently, this is where I find myself.
I am reminded of a passage I once read in a book called God Calling.
“In a race it is not the start that hurts, not the even pace of the long stretch. It is when the goal is in sight that heart and nerves and courage and muscles are strained almost beyond human endurance, almost to breaking point.
So with you now the goal is in sight…”
This illness continues to stretch my faith, perseverance, endurance and hope in many unexpected ways. Despite feeling strained, I choose to believe that although I might be bruised, I will not break. I trust that better days are yet to come and I hope to be able to write about some of them in my next treatment update. For now, I am still taking it one day at a time.
“Have courage.” I hear. “until those days come.”
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