I’ve often heard that good things come in threes. Or possibly it was that Hollywood deaths happen in threes. One or the other. The point is that THREE is an important number and has been since the beginning of time. The Trinity, for example. The Three Wise Men. The number of days Christ was in the tomb. The third eye. The number of times I woke up last night because my kids are teething or sick or possibly plain ol’ mean.
So I’m dealing with something for the third time in my life right now and am hoping that it, indeed, is the “charm.” And hopefully the last time.
OH DEAR GOD, NO- I am NOT pregnant again. Sheesh. Get out of my ovaries, people.
Although, I may actually prefer being pregnant again over what I’ve been dealing with the past few months. Especially since the outcome of pregnancy is pretty straightforward- an impossibly cute and tiny human being that captures my heart and then poops on me.
My current outcome? I’m not quite sure, honestly.
You see, I have just begun treatment- AGAIN- for Lyme disease. Now, if you’ve been following my blog for the last few posts (even though they’ve been faaaar and few between), you’ll notice that I JUST FINISHED being treated for Lyme earlier this year after some really scary neurological stuff started happening after we moved back from Australia. Actually, ever since we moved from Australia in October, our time can be succinctly described as: WHERE’S THE NEAREST HOSPITAL????
Seriously- we have all been run through the gamut of various doctors, hospitals, tests, scans, biopsies, and medications. I alone have had a CT scan, an MRI, multiple mammograms, a biopsy (dear Lord, “relief” doesn’t even begin to describe what you feel when you hear the word, “benign”), shingles, the flu, a couple UTIs and Lyme disease. TWICE.
All since October, people. Nine months. I could have my third adorable bundle of poop by now, which, thank the Lord, IS NOT HAPPENING.
Instead, I’m once again on antibiotics to treat an awful bacteria that wreaks havoc with just about everything in my body. I’m in pain all over (including my hands again, which, thankfully, I now know is not due to my dalliance with the knitting needles) and my muscles go through periods of deciding they don’t want to work anymore, just to name a few.
I’m pretty sure I got bit by another tick sometime in May because that’s when I got that red rash. Although, even though I’ve had Lyme twice before, I didn’t put 2 and 2 together until my body started crapping out on me again a few weeks ago. You see, I never got the rash before, so when I got it this time, I thought it was some weird bug bite (did not see a tick on me) and wondered why it took so freaking long for it to go away. And then, about 6 weeks later, my body decided to punish me for not realizing the danger from the get-go.
The good news is that I’ve been successfully treated twice before so, hopefully, I’ll have a similarly positive outcome this time around. The bad news is that Lyme, for whatever reason, is a hotly debated and politicized disease, especially the concept of “Chronic Lyme.” And that’s the part that scares me.
What if this third time truly is the charm and my prize is having a long term, debilitating disease that some in the medical community denies even exists? THAT’S SCARY, PEOPLE. And tragically sad. Especially for the many, many people who have to fight with this disease, and have fought with this disease, for years and yet are constantly told that it’s all in their heads.
I truly hope that I am not going to be one of those people because, holy moly guys. This sucks. Really, REALLY bad.
There’s more to our ongoing saga that is not Lyme related but yet is a HUGE thing….but more on that later. For now, if I could humbly ask for your prayers for me and my family because, dude. We could really use a break.
Also, if you have time, watch the documentary, “Under Our Skin,” which is really eye opening in regards to the complexities surrounding Lyme disease and its treatment….or lack thereof.
For now, peace out, homies. I will be writing again soon….promise.