Happy Friday, everyone! Welcome to the 77th segment of my fictional story, When Life Hands You Lymes. I’ve been working on the second draft of the manuscript this week which is pretty exciting. I hope you enjoy it and as always, your comments are appreciated.
The weariness I felt had swallowed me whole. Starting with my body and slowly creeping through my brain, my heart and finally my soul. Each time I tried to rally my brain and come up with the power to think I was left feeling hopeless, as if reverting back to my normal self was beyond my control.
“Madalyn, it’s time for your tinctures.”
Mom’s voice prompted me to open my mouth but not my eyes. That would have taken too much energy. I felt the bitter tasting liquid fall onto my tongue. I closed my mouth and swallowed.
I drifted back to sleep, my dreams anything but sweet.
“There’s something fundamentally wrong when it’s no longer unusual to sleep the whole day away.” I stopped my rant to suck in some deep breaths since I was suddenly gasping for air. “I don’t even feel like a human any more. The world if flying past while I float away on a dream world that I can’t control.”
“At least we know it’s just temporary, a corridor on our way to better things.” Dad stood next to my bed, his smile gentle. “Think of how long we begged for answers and now we have them.”
“I never in my wildest dreams, and they can get pretty wild, imagined that the process of getting over Lyme disease would be so horrific.” I’m calming down now and rationale is taking over.
“It’s difficult for us to see you feeling so miserable, too.” Dad rubbed the back of his neck. “But when I think of what this medicine is doing for you, it makes it all worth it.”
“What do people who have Lyme disease and don’t have wonderful parents like you do?” I gave Dad a silly smile.
“Does that mean you’re thankful for us?”
“Hum, let’s think about that.” I scratch my head. “Number One: You pay for all of my medicine and doctor appointments. Number Two: You keep encouraging me and pulling me out of my pit of despair. Number Three: You love me even when I look like this.” I wave my hand to include my greasy hair, rumpled pajamas and thrashed bed. “Number Four: You take time out of your busy day to come up and check on me to see how I’m doing. Number Five: You keep giving me uplifting books, DVD’s and audio to fill my mind with.” I let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, I think I must be pretty thankful for you.”
By the time Dad heads to get ready for bed a few minutes later I feel like I’ve made a definite improvement on my outlook on life. Sure it’s a pain sleeping the day away and having zero energy, but like Dad said, I am on the road to recovery. This is just a corridor, a long, pitch black, creepy and suffocating corridor, but it won’t last forever.
Dr. Shay’s advice echoed in my mind. I needed to keep my mind on positive things. It was a battle I’d been fighting each day. Some times with success, other times with so much failure I wanted to scream. “Alright. Madalyn, you are going to rejoice.” I glanced at the clock. Other than trips to the bathroom I’d been in bed for twenty-four hours straight. Most of them had been spent sleeping. “One thing you’re thankful for for each hour I’ve been in bed.” Somehow talking out loud made the night seem more friendly. Julia was visiting her parents for a week in Florida and Darrick was gone on a business trip. By this time both my parents were probably sleeping.