Friday, June 10, 2016
Fun Friday Flipout #3
Last week wasn't so bright, so we didn't flip out on Friday. But today is a very good day, one of the best I've had in a long while. Let me tell you why.
I was getting my blood drawn this morning for my safety labs when I received an email from a girl here in Asheville who also has chronic Lyme. She said a friend of a friend had told her about me and would I like to get together for a dairy-free, sugar-free, wheat-free, soy-free something or other and talk?
I texted her immediately: "Yes. Now. Immediately."
Half an hour later we were sitting inside the cool brick and copper of Trade and Lore Coffee House, gauzy white wallhangings lifting in the breeze from the ceiling fans, drinking almond milk lattes and talking about everything. We share many of the same symptoms, swallow the same supplements, and even adhere to a similar antibiotic regiment. Besides part time writing and side gigs, we're both too sick to work and we spend every moment of every day trying to find a way out of this.
She is beautiful, capable, funny and optimistic. We both hope to become health coaches one day and help others navigate their way through chronic Lyme, and so we devour books, attend conferences and absorb as much information as we can about this monster that has invaded our organs and stolen our lives. We are both success stories in the making.
As I spoke with her, I felt a little of the terror that still clings to me after this past year melt away. We spoke the same language: anaplasmosis, air hunger, anger, babesia, borrelia meningitis, confusion, costochondritis, doxy, dismissal, eye twitch, fatigue, liver enzymes, optic neuritis, port lines, pulsed ABX, safety labs, uveitis. I felt instantly connected and less crazy.
Together we planned a summer filled with bite-sized excursions: paddleboarding, yoga, lying around, juicing, gardening, podcasts, hikes that are either short and sweet or long and slow, walking the dogs.
We're not sure who connected us, somebody told her friend about my blog and I don't know who it was, but thank you. Whoever you are.
There were other nice things this week, like cotton candy grapes, minted ice cubes, cold glasses of juiced collard greens, my red haired husband yanking ruby red beets from out of our garden, vegan peanut butter ice cream, an old friend who sent me a piece of sanded burl in the mail that is so unearthly beautiful that I cannot stop touching it, our friend Dan playing an acoustic set at the Mothlight and piles of thank you cards all neat inside their white envelopes and ready to go, but what I'll always remember from this week was meeting Whitney.
Imagine you live half your life quietly alone on the moon, sifting through moondust, searching for a way back to earth. You are coping but you're very lonely and you're afraid you might be losing your mind. And then suddenly a spaceship lands and another little astronaut emerges. "I'd like to get back to earth, too," they say. "Let's figure this out together."
Imagine. Just imagine what a difference that would make.