“How strange that the nature of life is change, yet the nature of human beings is to resist change. And how ironic that the difficult times we fear might ruin us are the very ones that can break us open and help us blossom into who we were meant to be.”
~ Elizabeth Lesser, Broken Open: How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow
Would you be surprised if I told you of the bittersweet joy that is my healing journey?
I have experienced deteriorating health since 1984, when I was bitten by a tick during a picnic in Brisbane. For thirty years I have fought to obtain a diagnosis and effective treatment for this invisible illness which has slowly but surely stolen my life.
In January, 2013, I was finally diagnosed with Lyme Disease.
Yesterday I went back to my Lyme doctor to investigate my progress, one year into our aggressive treatment plan which uses antibiotics, herbs and diet. One year on, both my doctor and I needed some kind of tangible evidence that this treatment plan was working.
Since my late teens, when I first became ill, I have tried so many things in my efforts to regain my health. Until last year I’d actually tried EVERYTHING I could think of except antibiotics.
Natural therapies, complimentary therapies, medical specialists, psychology, hypnotherapy, past life regressions, chelation, ozone therapy, detoxing programs, every kind of diet, nutritional supplements, all kinds of machines and energy work, every network marketing product, spiritual healing, positive thinking, meditation, prayer…
Three decades of my life, and hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of ‘everything’.
Some of that ‘everything’ kept me alive.
Some of that ‘everything’ even gave me limited improvement for a time. But still, I ended up with lesions in my brain, cardiomyopathy, and on a fast track to my own imminent demise.
A year ago I was dying.
I had my affairs in order. I’d made my will.
At the end of 2012, life, as I knew it and lived it, had diminished to such an extent that I knew there was nothing left to sacrifice. Piece by piece, year by year, I have given up on things. On dreams. On hopes. On normal things. Simple wishes. I kept making choices based on a smaller and smaller view of the world.
I found clever ways to keep existing, and to be grateful for being alive, despite those limitations. I made choices, not based upon the wishes of my heart, but simply based upon what I might cope with, while still managing to shape this small world of mine with meaning. And I told myself that was okay.
I kept up a running commentary in my head, in my meditations, even in my dreams. I would be okay. I would get through this somehow. All of this misery must be for some higher purpose. One day, I’d tell myself, as I desperately tried to cling to the tattered shreds of my life. One day I would make sure that my life truly did count for something. One day, I would find a way to heal. I hung on and would not let myself face the possibility that it might turn out otherwise. One day I would be well again, I told myself.
No matter how hard it was some days to believe that this could possibly be true…
And then I did find a way. Through a set of divinely synchronistic circumstances, a brave and clever doctor diagnosed me with Lyme. Another brave and clever doctor was prepared to take me on as a patient and treat me. I was prescribed truckloads of antibiotics. Ridiculous amounts that made me more horribly ill, even as they were supposed to be making me better. If I wasn’t herxing, I wasn’t healing, I was told.
It took all I had to hang in there with the treatment. I’m glad I did. Under the care of this kind and compassionate doctor I have made incredible progress.
I still have a long way to go. But the lesions in my brain? Gone. The cardiomyopathy? Resolving. In fact, my heart is on its way to being normal. Do you have any kind of idea how big of a deal that is?
My bloodwork has improved.
I can feel strength returning to my body.
My mind works again. I mean REALLY works. Works so that I can write. Works so that I can function.
I’m not independent yet. I have another two years of drugs ahead of me. I still can’t drive. I’m still in pain. I am still fatigued.
But I am healing. I am alive. And finally my horizons are expanding rather than contracting, after just one year of intensive antibiotic therapy on top of all the other good things I was already doing.
I should be overjoyed.
Please, don’t get me wrong. I am overjoyed. My husband is. My family are.This is the best of news.
It’s just that I am also so very achingly sad right now.
As I stood in the shower on Sunday, Mother’s Day, I cried. Because of Lyme I have miscarried five times. I shall never be a mother. Lyme took that from me, and so much more.
My husband gave up his career to care for me, and it is too late for him to get that career back. The career that was his passion, his pride, his life.
We have both missed out on family time, and time with friends. Our finances and future security have been impacted, and our resources dwindled in my pursuit of health. Over the years we have watched genuine caring doctors, willing to think outside the box for patients like me who had fallen through the cracks, be persecuted and closed down.
Because of Lyme I have given up career paths, education, business opportunities, dreams, relationships. I have said no to so many things. I have been unreliable in my life, and with those I love. I have endured the criticism, judgement and contempt of many, including health professionals, family and friends. I have been in bed, in a quiet dark room, or living small, while life moved on without me.
I will never get those years back. My husband will never get those years back.
I held my Lyme drugs in my hand this morning. A few tiny pills. Pills that are making me well. Pills that could also have given me a whole other life, if I had only taken them earlier. I have recently learned that my government was advised back in 1990 that Lyme disease existed in Australia, and that doctors needed to be educated to better deal with this new threat, which was expected to become more common.
Imagine, if I had been diagnosed back then, at a time when I was already so ill, when my family and I had already suffered so much.
I’m grateful for all that this disease has taught me. I’ve learned humility and compassion. I can honestly say that living with Lyme has grown and shaped me in positive ways. It has forced me to walk a spiritual path, and to explore that path with a dogged determination as I looked for answers.
But in the end, my answer came largely from modern medicine. Alternative medicine and my spiritual practices kept me alive, against all hope. Modern medicine is what is giving me my life back. Antibiotics, anti-microbials, anti-malarials. Tiny little pills.
All that misery, all that pain which my family and I might have been avoided if only I’d been diagnosed earlier and been given those tiny little pills.
For all of you dealing with Lyme and its co-infections, I urge you not to give up. Healing is possible. I am healing. You can too. Something in the mix will work for you, as it has for me.
This bittersweet symphony that is life is still beautiful to me, and I am grateful beyond words to be given a way back to health.
I am also grateful with everything that I am for all of you who have encouraged and supported me, who have sent me messages and cards and gifts that were often the ONLY bright moment in the darkest of my days. You deserve credit too, for keeping me alive and helping me to hang in there. Thank you.
Yesterday as much as I celebrated this glorious victory, this incredible come-back in the fight to become well, I mourned my losses, and grieved the life I gave up on the way to becoming who I am. I know that there is more loss there yet to be acknowledged. I know that grief can tap me on the shoulder, and cut me off at the knees when I least expect it. That’s okay. It’s part of my healing process too.
Today I am stepping forward with optimism, and renewed purpose. My life matters. I am here for a reason. In stripping so much of my life away I have come to know my core, my essence, and I know this next part of my journey is to embrace that fully.
I love that I am healing. I love that there is still time for me, and that I will be well enough to use that time to a greater purpose.
My progress is heartbreakingly wonderful news.
Some useful links:
Karl McManus Foundation Australia
Lyme Disease Association, Inc United States