You Don’t Know How Good It Is. . .

Until it is gone. I don’t have a lot of services to rely on. No housekeeping, no funds for a cleaning service. No personal care, no respite to help with the little guy. I have a few great friends who are willing to help if I call on them, and a whole lot of people who steps in during the Bartonella Crisis (we are darn good at the crisis, aren’t we), but mostly, I rely on my oldest son, my friend two states away (who my son will text to call in more troops), and my husband.

Cruising toward the discomfort of a two year anniversary from my diagnosis and yesterday, my husband woke with the worst herx. This is the guy who can get up with the kids, make food a whole lot, go to work, sometimes 3 different jobs in one day, often two weeks without a day off.

And now, today, he is as bad as I get on my worst days.

What do you do, when the person you could often count on to help, especially in the mornings, has severe adrenal fatigue and difficulty functioning?

You get up.

Last night, we all tried to go to bed early. I was asleep, then awakened by my teenage insomniac. “Where’s the Melatonin?” threw me into several hours of broken sleep and restlessness. I finally got up at 1:52. I tried to sleep again. Paced a lot. Cried some. Finally, I forced myself to lie down and focus on my breathing, after taking some advil. That was a little after 4 am. I fell asleep, soundly, and comfortably, only to hear the alarm at 6 am.

Back to School. Got breakfast, drove the teenager to the express bus. Came home and crawled into bed. 5 minutes later, the little guy was up, time for meds, breakfast, homework, bus.

Husband still sleeping. Calls from county office. Faxes to send. Appointments to plan for. Dog to walk.

I let bitterness block out how much he did for me. Now, it’s up to me to rise to the challenge. At least for today. Not only do I have to do the things that I always do, today, I have to do everything he does as well. This disease and the desire it has to swallow families whole is trying my patience, but what can I do?

All I can do is keep breathing.

Ice Pack on Shoulder. Check.
Dog on Leash. Check.
Ready. Set. Go.

I’ll try for the sleep thing again, tomorrow.


3 responses to “You Don’t Know How Good It Is. . .

  1. This song never fails to bring me back to a better frame of mind. Jeanne, we’re sick too, but don’t forget that we’re just a few blocks away. We can breathe together.

  2. Hey- thinking of you. I don’t know what else to say, except, thinking of you and your family.

  3. Hi,
    I have had lyme, bartonella and babesia for the last 5-10 years, symptomatic the last 3. My son has congenital lyme, babesia, and probably bartonella. It is incredibly difficult to treat this disease while also caring for children. I have done orals, bicillin and now finally IV. I got 90% better on 4 months of Rocephin plus orals. I stopped Rocephin last month when I, ran out of money. Everything came roaring back. It is so incredibly frustrating to get better, to feel it, taste it, be it. Better I can think straight, get up after 7 hours of sleep ready to go. My smile returns, my energy returns and all the symptoms abate. With this latest relapse I’m back on Rocephin and I’ve found that Teasel Root extract (about $10 for 3 months worth) along with lyme juice, helps me to be able to function. I’m writing this to say, I hear you, I know what you’re going through to some degree. Keep on keepin’ on. You are doing amazing things for your family. If taking care of your lyme and your families’ were a paid job, you’d be a millionaire and so would I. Try lyme juice for the herxing. I hope it’s helpful for you. Good luck, and my thoughts and prayers are with you and yours.


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