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.

Debunking the Debby-downer

Dear Patient Readers,
    I've been skimming among my past posts and have seen an sad trend developing.  Unintentionally, this blog has been where I rant relentlessly about miseries without sharing joys, triumphs, or victories.  Some of you may think that I am a miserable person to be around, majorly depressed, or the worlds most verbose Debby-downer. Rest assured, I am non of the above!

After identifying this trend, I took some time to figure out the why.  Why so negative in my writing?  Life is pretty darn good in general, and as painful as my Lyme's can be, it's not taken my soul or forced me to change direction with my life.  Then it dawned on me - I post late at night.  (Umm ...what?)  I go through my whole day like an almost normal human being, bouncing around and doing things to the best of my ability.  Then, someone will  ask me non-Kosher questions and look me in the eye, genuinely concerned.  As touching as it is to know that I am loved, it's really distracting to be asked these questions.  They draw my attention back to my body and seek out any pain that might be there, whether masked or suppressed.  See my 2nd post for more on Kosher Questions.

I say things like "I'm just fine" "Pretty good" "Alright" "Not too bad" and "Shufflin' on," with each response gradually becoming less rosy and more real as the day wears on and the Advil wears off.  By the time I sit down to type, I am out of positive/optimistic/cheerful things to say.  I've used them all up on my friends and family.  WHY don't you just tell them the truth?  Tell them exactly what you feel!  Well I can't do that, now can I?  Then they look at me with pity in their eyes, and with groaning voices, pat my shoulder and say "aw, pumpkin! I'm sorry you hurt." "aw, baby-doll, have you taken any meds to help?"  "aw, why does my sweetheart feel bad?"

Aw, Aw, AAAAWWWW!!!!!! >,<      yuck.

 I hate letting people down, and I hate it when other people try to suffer for me.  These groans of sympathy make me feel worse because I know you're suffering too.  I don't want that to happen!! DON'T SUFFER EXTRA FOR ME, I'm doing it enough on my own, thank you very much.  My family is the number one perpetrator in this business. Others do so unwittingly, but that's to be expected from the uneducated.  I enjoy filling up others with hope, joy, and sunshine, but just because I do so whenever I can does not mean that I'm inherently void of darkness and turmoil.  It is so easy for me to gift my happiness to those around me, but when I pour out my heart to my loved ones in person, all that's left to write here is in my mind - the angst- and my body - the pain. That's why I can't tell them how I really feel - we both end up hurting.

This is my very long-winded way of saying PLEASE do not fear for me, cry for me, or suffer for me in any way.  PLEASE do not dismiss me as a whiny blogger who just wants attention.  PLEASE understand that what I write here if for my good too, not just to keep you informed.  It has been incredibly therapeutic for me to set aside time to catalog all of these thoughts and straighten out my feelings without burdening one specific person with my entire life.

dear ones, I can feel your prayers every day.
All my love,
~Melissa

Person Care, not just Health Care

Dear everyone,

I went to the Infectious Disease Dr.'s today - YAY!!! After some trial and error with different entrances and floors to the building, I found the office.  My conversation with the I.D. Dr was as follows...

*Dr. shuts exam room door*

"So what's going on?" 
     "I can't write half a page of notes without being in terrible pain, I can't sing an entire song without my heart jumping around, and I'm too tired to function despite plenty of sleep."


  "How's your memory?"  *listens to heart*
      "Good question - it's not so good, but let's face it, that's a hard thing to gauge during finals week - every one's brains are shot then."

 "Does your face go numb?"  *takes temperature*     

         "Um no, but my fingers and toes go numb really easily, even when positioned normally."

 "Take this prescription, (scribble scribble) if it doesn't get better, we will re-test for Lyme's and see if we can't rule out other issues. Have a nice day."
*Dr. opens exam room door*

From a garden of a home in downtown.

 O.O    Fastest. Appointment. Ever. I don't think the examination table even had time to warm up where I was sitting.  What worries me about this is that those two symptoms - about the memory loss and facial numbness - are only present in the late stages of the disease.  The Dr. didn't seem phased/worried/concerned about it at all, it was so matter of fact one might have thought he had forgotten to bring his emotions to the office today.  I hate that.  I am not a squeaky wheel demanding oil, I am a broken human being, desperate to be pieced back together.  Just because I don't have rabies or AIDS doesn't mean you can treat my condition like it's the common cold and carry such a nonchalant air in this situation. It might not be a big deal to you that I can't knead bread, drive, write, turn door knobs, or even fix my hair without hurting, but it matters to me.   You may not be there to see it, but being unable to go for walks, ride my bike, sing a whole song, or go shopping without heart palpitations or burning fatigue really slams the breaks on my daily functioning.

 Mind you, I'm not a corporate CEO, a stunt double, a firefighter, or even a soccer mom.  I'm just a student - all I have to do is College, but even that is sometimes more than I can handle. That's why I'm not applying for a seasonal job this Christmas break.  I am a trained coffee-barista and very employable in that field, but I'd hate to apply, get a position, and not be able to work because I feel lousy - that's just lame.  This winter, my full time job is getting better and once again being whole, full, recharged.
....  but I'd be overjoyed to just normal.

I have the audacity to write this because I know that you care.  Your thoughts and prayers are the strong fortress around my heart.
All my love,
~Melissa