Catching up with old, fuzzy Friends

Good evening everyone!

      Today was a good day.  There was intermittent pain, but it was one of the best days I've had for a while. I was asked to run the morning routine at a non-profit barn where I have been a volunteer for six years. This meant getting up hours earlier than normal (well, at least for Christmas break it was hours early!!), bundling up against the sunless cold, and working my butt of for over 2 hours without compensation.  ...and I wouldn't trade it for the world.  The horses who live there are old, semi-retired schoolmasters, and the most understanding souls I've ever come across.  After spending most of this past summer with them, they think that I myself am a strange biped equine!

      Horses remember everything.  When it comes to people, they never forget the hands that helped them into the world, that buckled on that first halter, that feed them every day, that heal their wounds, that clean their coats, that rub their heads, that sneak them treats, and that pat them affirmingly after a hard day's work.  Each of the nine horses I took care of this morning treated me as if I'd never left for school three months ago. Like continuing a paused conversation, we fell in stride together and picked up where we had left off.  I make a point of always talking to horses like they speak English. From how the respond to me, you'd thing they'd heard every word I'd said.

       Needless to say, these horses have touched me very deeply.  When my symptoms first appeared this past summer, the horses could tell.  They would see me weary and tired, look me in the eye, then slow down to match my pace.  When my hands hurt from the arthritis, I'd stretch them around a horses curved barrel and let the soft heat saturate my being. When I was distraught about my broken state, the horses would let me clutch a handful of mane and bury my face in their necks. One very special horse would turn around to check on me as I wet his coat with my tears.  I could gawk for another 200 pages about that "special bond" between humans and horses, but I think I've made my point.  

Two friends saying "Hello"

     One of these horses, "Dancer," was very lame all summer.  He had a serious history or laminitis and had foundered before, but this round was worse than the others.  He could barely walk at times from the pain in his feet, so he was put on stall rest with thick bedding to cushion his tender hooves.  I was constantly going to the barn to check on Dancer, clean his stall, change out his water, medicate him, and keeping him comfortable as he healed.  He was my healing partner: taking excellent care of him in his weakness reminded me to take care of myself in my weakness.  Truth be told, we were actually taking care of each other.  I received a letter from the stables last week, informing me that Dancer had suffered another round of laminitis and had to be put down.  It was the wise and merciful thing to do, but the barn wasn't quite the same this morning when his fuzzy brown head topped with an ebony mane didn't appear over his stall door.

Leadblood - There's some stuff I just can't do

Hello friends!

     I am often asked about what Lyme disease is like.   I am no doctor, medicine woman, or trained professional when it comes to infectious diseases, but I am an expert in one area - me.  After refusing to listen to my body's desperate plea for attention early on, I've become an excellent bio-listener.  My fragile vessel will whimper, moan, groan, yelp, bawl, howl, snarl, sigh, gasp, and cry to tell me what I need or how I feel.

Fatigue - This is perhaps my most crippling symptom. A lot of sources say that Lyme will make you feel like you have the flue, just without the coughing and sneezing.  I find this to be a rather boring description, however accurate.  Here's some more creative descriptions for your understanding, dear. 

(  ^Me when fatigued. Picture not mine...thanks Google Images! )

     It's that feeling when you're alarm is going off in the morning, but you're not well rested and you fumble to hit the snooze.  Imagine that state of being for a moment.  Recall the lack of adequate blood flow to your brain to process everything, the weakness in your arms (arms that feel as heavy as iron rods), and the uncoordination of the fingers.  

     It's that feeling when you stand up too fast after sitting for a long time when the blood is rushing around, and you're completely lacking in strength.

     It's feeling as though something has changed the very blood in your veins into lead, heavy as it slushes from heart to limbs without giving power to the muscles that are too tired to move.

     Some days, it feels like that every single time I stand...and the feeling doesn't go away.  It is so heartbreaking for me on a bad fatigue day and be unable to sprint a few steps to catch up with friends in the hall, sing a whole song, take the stairs, stand up for rehearsal, go to meetings after a certain hour, or other simple tasks without burning out and withering. This summer, my friends wanted to go shopping and out on walks through downtown, but I couldn't. I knew it would use me up for the rest of the day.  All I could do was sit and watch old seasons of Smallville.  When I know there is something I absolutely need to do, I save my energy for that day to accomplish that task.  Often that means being vastly unproductive the rest of the day.  As you can imagine, this is making college life really, really difficult!

     Can't you just have another cup of coffee and move on?  Nope.  Caffeine only works up to a certain threshold (about 1.5 cups, or 2 cups of black tea).  After that it just makes me ADD and even more uncoordinated with slight tremors in the hands.  It has gotten the the point where my friends now know Lyme's as "Old Lady Syndrome" because between the joint pain and fatigue, I shuffle around like dear sweet great grandma when it gets really bad.  Joint pain, however, I'll post on another time.

All my love,

~Melissa.