Love Letters to Myself…

Image by Dinah Corley

Image by Dinah Corley

“Be the one who nurtures and builds. Be the one who has an understanding and a forgiving heart one who looks for the best in people. Leave people better than you found them.” 
~ Marvin J. Ashton

So today I begin the next round of drugs that are making me well. Problem is, in taking these drugs they are also going to make me sicker first.

It’s not just the physical symptoms either. The relentless high level pain, nausea, fevers and chills are something I’m getting better at dealing with.

Besides the pain, the worst part is that horrible space of insomnia, brutal depression, social isolation, abject misery and anxiety. That’s not a normal part of my psyche. Most of it is actually a documented side-effect of the drugs, and of the bacteria that have invaded my body. But it doesn’t matter WHY I feel it, the fact is it’s likely to be part of the scenery for the road I’m about to travel.

That’s why I spent a little time yesterday making preparations for the days ahead. I’m not being negative. Having walked this road before I know what to expect. Perhaps I’ll be fortunate and NONE of this will happen in Round Two. But if it does, I’m ready.

Image from WAH

Image from WAH

I have recorded myself some meditations and ‘bedtime stories’ full of gentle encouragements, relaxation and pain minimisation techniques, sleep inducers and reminders of who I am and what’s important to me for those moments when I’ll struggle to get into the right headspace.

I’ve been meditating for over thirty years, and I still have times where getting into a peaceful space eludes me. No point in forcing that. I need to make these next few weeks as easy for myself as possible. When things get tough I can listen to one of my guided meditations!

I also wrote myself a few little love letters, wrapped up some of our feel-good DVDs and CDs that never fail but make me smile, and filled a couple of postcards with coping strategies. Because let’s face it – who remembers this stuff when you’re down in the hole? I now have a box of letters and presents that I can ‘Lucky Dip’ into, trusting that I’ll pull out exactly what I need when the going gets tough and I need some extra support.

Maybe I’ll share some of these over the next six weeks. Perhaps you might find them useful too, if you ever feel the need to wrap yourself in a blanket of love. If it sounds like a good idea let me know and I’d be happy to do that for you.

Okay. Let the count-down to the other side of this ordeal begin!

5 weeks, six and a half days to go…

Update from Nurse Bert

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“Wounding and healing are not opposites. They’re part of the same thing. It is our wounds that enable us to be compassionate with the wounds of others. It is our limitations that make us kind to the limitations of other people. It is our loneliness that helps us to find other people or to even know they’re alone with an illness. I think I have served people perfectly with parts of myself I used to be ashamed of. ” 
~ Rachel Naomi Remen

“I choose to write because it’s perfect for me. It’s an escape, a place I can go to hide. It’s a friend, when I feel out casted from everyone else. It’s a journal, when the only story I can tell is my own. It’s a book, when I need to be somewhere else. It’s control, when I feel so out of control. It’s healing, when everything seems pretty messed up.
And it’s fun, when life is just flat-out boring.” 
~ Alysha Speer

Hello,

There’s nothing much to report here. Nicole is still in bed, and I growl when she tries to get up. This tactic seems to be working.

I have patented a new anti-movement device. In the picture above it might look like I am napping, but this is in fact my new motion-sensor facility. It works really well. She hasn’t tricked me yet!

Anyway, she has one week and six days left on these drugs. We are counting every hour. In the meantime I am telling her all of the good recipes she can blog for you. Roast-a-rama. All kinds of meat pizza. Bones with sauce. Barbeque meats. She can test them on me and Harry so we know they’re good for you.

Okay, I have to wake my patient up. It’s drug time. Be kind to yourselves today and remember that napping is an art form that must be practiced to be perfected. I hope you do some practice this weekend.

Sincerely, Nurse Bert xoxo

My Sweet Poison

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“Faith is walking face-first and full-speed into the dark. If we truly knew all the answers in advance as to the meaning of life and the nature of God and the destiny of our souls, our belief would not be a leap of faith and it would not be a courageous act of humanity; it would just be… a prudent insurance policy.” 
~ Elizabeth Gilbert

“Faith is about doing. You are how you act, not just how you believe.” 
~ Mitch Albom

 

What is there to say if we cannot be honest with each other?

Let me show you something.

Saturday morning. Sitting in a Byron Bay cafe, unbidden tears rolling down my cheeks.  I was there with my ever-patient and supportive husband Ben, who had managed to rouse me from my coma-like state long enough to get me out of pyjamas and into some street clothes that still somehow resembled pyjamas.

So there I was. Weak latte at one elbow, a pile of unread weekend newspapers at the other. Harry the cafe dog lying on my feet, while I drew strength and grounding from his reassuring presence.

These new drugs I am on are a nightmare. I count every day that I must take them. Two weeks, four days to go.

They are my sweet poison. I can literally FEEL them working from just after they enter my body. For the first two weeks I experienced massive body pain, insomnia and complete exhaustion. My brain was numb. I was numb. Couldn’t read. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t connect to anything during the day. Couldn’t sleep at night, when all of that disconnect would dissolve and leave me stuck in this misbehaving body.

I was so not like my usual self. Empty headed. No ideas, no ability to converse or articulate my needs. I would get one good hour, sometimes less, each morning between when I struggled out of bed and when I began the regime of drugs and herbs that are making me well. Thank god for that one sane-making hour. Then it was back to the place of disconnect.

At least in that space of disconnect I was feeling the pain, but often from a distance, during daylight hours anyway. Anyone who has taken Valium or other such drugs will know what I am talking about. If the house had been burning down my thought process would have looked something like this:

‘Oh, look. Flames.’ Observes them licking across the bedroom ceiling. Observes them set the curtains alight. ‘Boy, it’s really taking hold.’ Turns over in bed and readjusts the pillows.

At night my bed was burning, and I was still in it. But this time I knew it, and I couldn’t make it stop…

Image from Sodahead

Image from Sodahead

So after the trauma of no sleep and endless pain Thursday and Friday brought me two straight days and nights of sleep. Sweet sleep. Sleep with rich lucid dreams.

One good thing, though. My brain is waking up and kicking into gear although I don’t yet recognise the landscape.

I wake long enough to drink some water, take some tablets, go to the toilet. All in a shuffling half-awake space, like a turtle breaking the surface for a sip of air before returning to the depths and those crazy seem-real dreams.

It was in one of those cresting moments of wakefulness on Saturday morning when Ben magically transported me down to Byron.

Sitting there at an outdoor table with my coffee, music in the background, soft rain falling and friends stopping to say hello, I was overwhelmed with sensation almost too much to bear.

The muted sunlight seemed too bright. The background music so loud. Conversations washed over the top of me and I struggled to catch those shining bright words one by one in my clumsy fists. By the time I had captured enough and threaded them into some sort of meaningful order the friends were on their way, their questions unanswered, their faces kind and perplexed. Sorry, I want to shout after them.

But already I was forgetting what for.

On Saturday morning I sipped my latte, holding it carefully in both hands as a child would do. I am shaky and weak, and my spatial awareness is awry. I find it challenging to get food or drink neatly to my mouth. I hope no-one I know saw me as I put my breakfast toast in my nostril and fed coffee to my chin.

At meal’s end I insisted on paying, shuffling into the cafe to hand over my money. My balance is poorer than I remember and I lurched forward like a drunk. This was not one of my better plans. Cafe Friends who we met through our mutual dogs, looked up in alarm as they watched me surf on wobbly legs to the counter. They do not know I am ill. I am aware that I am walking like a Thunderbird puppet right now – all jerky clumsiness and startle reflexes. It’s not just my friends who were staring that day.

They whispered to themselves, shocked, and although I would have liked to go over and have a quick chat, assure them I’m okay, that this is just a bad patch on the way to being well, I knew it was too much to explain and anyway, there were so many steps between me and them.

Home again, to pyjama land. But not to sleep. Not yet. Someone had shoved a pitchfork in my skull and they were twisting it for all they’re worth. The pain? Exquisite.

I slept away the rest of Saturday and much of Sunday.

So how is my Monday? If I were a pirate I would make pain walk the plank and feed it into the grasping maw of a giant shark.

Meditation is the only thing that gives my waking hours real relief. Sleep is better. Sleep is pain-free, and my dreams entertain me better than any book or movie. I like to think that while I am sleeping I am also healing. That glorious battles are being fought in my name and that good work is being done. That these wretched bacteria inside me are dying in droves and my cells are bringing out the dead as the meat wagons travel through my veins.

Image from MOCpages

Image from MOCpages

I wish I could feel normal. I would like to be baking something. I would like to be walking my farm or going for a swim, or working on a book. But sleep is clawing at me, and I can feel myself turning to sand beneath those insistent fingers. Am I even awake? Was Saturday’s breakfast real or just a dream?

Please, when I finally wake properly from this, let me have morphed back into myself. Meanwhile, I’ll keep taking my sweet poison. I’m planning to kill all these bacteria before they kill me. It’s the best plan I’ve got, and anyway, I’m winning.

It really is true. That which does not kill me makes me stronger.

So my question to you is this: What medicine do you need right now? Even if it doesn’t taste good, if it’s what you need, chug-a-lug babe! This is our year of making things better.

Bottle of Poison by Julie-Chantal

Bottle of Poison by Julie-Chantal

It’s an Eyeball Thing…

Image from Etsy

Image from Etsy

“If you can’t laugh when things go bad – laugh and put on a little carnival – then you’re either dead or wishing you were.” 
~ Stephen King, Under the Dome

I have an eyeball thing going on right now, so I’ll keep this post short.

My poor left eye is not happy with all these meds I am taking to kill my lyme disease and other nasty co-infections. So it’s protesting by doing this wiggly little dance up and down in my skull, otherwise known as nystagmus.

Makes it kind of hard to focus. So writing is tough. My plan today is to sleep long enough that when I wake up it has miraculously fixed itself.

Fingers crossed…

And if it doesn’t?

Well, it gives me a great reason to wear my trusty pirate eye patch.

Who doesn’t look better as a pirate!

Image by Alpha Mom

Image by Alpha Mom

Pay Attention to the Messages You Get!

Microscopy of the spirochete Borrelia burgdorferi -

Microscopy of the spirochete Borrelia burgdorferi – www.rosenkilde.com

“There is nothing so strong or safe in an emergency of life as the simple truth.”
~ Charles Dickens

Sometimes, I wish I’d had more faith in myself as I was starting out.

One of the things I always teach my students is the importance of trusting and paying attention to the messages they receive when working with their psychic skills, even as beginners, and to ask for clarification when they don’t understand.

Hmmm…

One of my clients recently sent me this email:

I was wondering if you could address something on your blog which I’m following and has been so inspirational as I get well from chronic ill health, which you said I would finally figure out. I worked it out with your very accurate diagnosis. My question is ‘how come you have been able to be so precise and accurate and spot on with my life and health diagnosis yet it has taken you so long to get your diagnosis for yourself?’ Am quite new to your world and blog over the last year and have just found that an interesting phenomenon which I don’t understand.

Yes, well… that’s a good point.

And the truth is, I DID get some really good information on my health, way back in 1997. My health had been problematic for some time, and I had already been to countless doctors and alternative medical practitioners with no real results. My sister, who is very pragmatic and scientific, said to me, ‘Why don’t we ask your Guides?’

So, I did a trance channeling session with Rollo, one of my Guides, while my sister asked questions.

What did I bring through?

My poor health was a result of spirochetes.

And how could I fix this problem?

Sulfur.

Yep. In 1997 I actually diagnosed myself with spirochetes, and my diligent sister (the one who kept the tick that bit me) wrote it all down. The channeled information supports the lyme and other co-infections I have now been officially diagnosed with in 2013.

Image from tumblr

Image from tumblr

Back in 1997 I had no idea what spirochetes were.  My sister had to explain it to me. It didn’t sound very serious. I mean, it wasn’t some nasty disease, or cancer or some other terrible thing. At least I didn’t think so…

And doctors and naturopaths kept telling me there was nothing really wrong – even as my health and mental cognition continued to slide.

Back in 1997 I did not even think of using sulfur-based drugs.  I did not do any real research.  Instead I started eating sulfur-rich foods, and in desperation I even ate the raw sulfur that we bought in bulk as a supplement for our organic cattle herd. It did seem to help a little.

I didn’t go to a doctor.  I mean, what would I say? ‘Hey, I channeled some information through and apparently I have spirochetes.  You need to prescribe me a truck-load of sulfur-based meds.’

Who could I tell? Who would believe me?

And why didn’t I see the problem in myself? Of course, I can see YOUR aura, and work effectively as a medical intuitive for YOU. I just can’t see my own aura or what’s going on in my own body. (Guess what? With psychic gifts that’s how it usually works!)

The psychic gifts I have are for me to use in service to YOU. My Guides did try to help me, and they were very specific and accurate in their information.  But I didn’t trust it enough to really investigate and truly understand what they were trying to tell me. I didn’t ask enough questions.

So, roll on sixteen years, and the massive spirochete load that nearly killed me is being treated with truckloads of sulfur-based drugs. And the treatment is working. The synchronicity in how it’s all come together is quite another story. Suffice to say I feel watched over, and very blessed.

I wish I’d paid attention to myself all those years ago.  But I guess we all have to learn the hard way to trust ourselves, and to back our intuition and insights.

There’s one good thing that comes out of all of this though.  In fact, two!

1) I conclusively validated my own channeled information.

2) Perhaps my story will encourage you to trust yourself a little earlier, or at least to ask more questions.

Be well, and know that you are in my thoughts, prayers and meditations, ♥ Nicole xoxo

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Love Letter To My Left Eye

green-eye

“Yet it is in this loneliness that the deepest activities begin. It is here that you discover act without motion, labor that is profound repose, vision in obscurity, and, beyond all desire, a fulfillment whose limits extend to infinity.” 

~ Thomas Merton

One of the more insidious aspects of stealth pathogens like Lyme and its various co-infections is that these bacteria hide in the most annoying and unlikely of places.

Inside me there are a whole host of squigglies that have taken up residence in my eyes.  My left eyeball in particular has been giving me enormous grief, although both are bothersome. As my medications kill the bacteria, the bacteria release toxins as a parting gift. My eyeballs are battle grounds right now…

It’s frustrating.  Not only do I get horrendous pain and light sensitivity, I also get spasms, twitches, tics and vision distortion. In a world where I rely so much on my eyes, having them temporarily out of action has been getting me down.

I was feeling quite cranky about my lyme-y eyes, especially my left one. Funny what chronic pain can do to you.  Problem is being cranky is not a great healing energy, and not very well aligned with my usual thoughts.

My poor eyes.  It’s not their fault.  They have been doing their best for me; working hard, adjusting to obstacles and continuing to be of service.  Even in their current state I’ve realised how grateful I am for them – how lost I’d be to suddenly have no vision at all.

So I decided to write my problematic eye ball a love letter. Perhaps, next time you are frustrated with your body, instead of directing that frustration at yourself, you could send some love and appreciation too. Most situations flourish far better with kindness, and you might find yourself feeling a whole lot better about things…

Dear Left EyeBall,

It seems I have taken you for granted my whole life.  Like many relationships, it’s only once I’ve noticed an absence that I understand just how much you do for me. I’m sorry about that. I am glad that this illness has given me the opportunity to truly ‘see’ my eyes for the miracles that you are.

Because of you I can see auras.  I can see faces.  I can read books and communicate clearly, even when I don’t say a word.  I get to see sunsets, tiny insects, everyday wonders and glimpses of those special things that forever change you.

You are my guide as I navigate the world, seamlessly letting my brain know where to place my feet or my hands, coordinating food and beverages to my lips, letting me recognise people and places. You gift me independence. You give my life ease.

I’m glad that you blink and cry, squint to protect me from harsh glare, and widen when things delight me.

Right now I’m going to give you a rest so that you can heal. I’m choosing to hold a picture of myself bright-eyed and sparkly. I’m choosing to see you well and  working perfectly. I’m sending you love, and bathing you in white light. I wish you well, little eye. Take all the time you need.

Much love and gratitude, Nicole xoxo

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It’s Lyme Time!

Image by Harumi Horii

Image by Harumi Horii

“What to do if you find yourself stuck in a crack in the ground underneath a giant boulder you can’t move, with no hope of rescue? Consider how lucky you are that life has been good to you so far. Alternatively, if life hasn’t been good to you so far, which given your current circumstances seems more likely, consider how lucky you are that it won’t be troubling you much longer.” 
― Douglas Adams, The Original Hitchhiker Radio Scripts

I’m really grateful.  I’ve had four glorious days of feeling pretty much human. Almost normal.  No great pain, no vomiting or diarrhea, none of the horrible things that seem to categorise much of being treated for Lyme disease and other various co-infections.

Well, kiss that goodbye. Yesterday I rolled from one high dose antibiotic to another, and suddenly it’s not pretty.

I won’t bore you with the details. Let’s just say one moment I was doing okay and the next minute it was a rapid downhill.

Suffice to say I feel like I am dying. Look like I am dying.  Smell like I am dying.

Bio Hazard Eye by Texler

Bio Hazard Eye by Texler

Brain’s just not working well enough for me to write anything pretty or useful for you.

And don’t even talk to me about food.

I’ll do my best to be back on deck as soon as I can.  But for now I am a bio-hazard.

Oh well.  C’est la vie…

I can do this!

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And anyway…

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