Laughter in the Battlefield

I seem to be in quite a predicament. I have Lyme disease. It is a disease that is known and treatment is supposedly known. Yet, once you have had it for many years people doubt that it exists. Even if they acknowledge it's existence, have test results and a positive history to prove it, they don't quite know how to treat it.

It is like we are in the middle of a battlefield with an unknown number of assailants, a plan that is not very clear and weapons that we don't really know how to use. We march forward anyway knowing this is what is to be done. Sometimes we feel fearful and other times confident. Somehow we know we are on the right path and at the same time get startled by the terror of walking a path that feels so dark and dangerous.

We keep going. It is what is to be done and now is the time to do it. You may wonder why I use the term "we." It is in reference moving through this journey with my amazing naturopath. He has made a choice to believe in me and to guide me through the murky waters of Chronic Lyme Treatment. We are both "virgins" in this territory and seem to take comfort in each other's honesty and slightly twisted humor.

Sometimes we laugh and make jokes about things that aren't at all funny. When the reality is dark and treatment is not going as planned, somehow the laughter helps. Like today for example, I ended up back in the doctor's office (again) with a severe neurotoxic reaction from killing of too many of the little lymies. I feel like my body is on an unpredictable roller coaster ride with a driver that has never led the train before. I trust him though and keep trudging along. He laughs when I bring in a gigantic bag filled with baskets of medicine cause' I knew I wouldn't remember the doses of my supplements. I laugh when he decides to palpate my kidney after me complaining of how it feels like someone is kicking me in the kidneys. He was being a doctor, so I can't fault him for wanting to confirm this. One vertebrae above the kidneys...okay. Second one...okay. First tap on the kidneys stimulated a scream that could be heard round the world. Poor doctor, he even jumped and then profusely apologized. After I caught my breath and my kidney stopped screaming, I couldn't stop laughing. I laughed on and off for hours. Why? Don't know. This body is just such a mess right now and treatment is not going remotely on course (not that there really is a well laid out course), so laughter seems better than hysterical crying.

Laughing in the battlefield. Sometimes you just have to do it. It seems to help both doc and me. It is like letting a little air out of a balloon that is about to pop. I only end up in his office when I am super sick. Laughing about needing a toxic waste sticker on my head seems somehow appropriate. My doc is amazing. Today he rocked. He laughed when I joked about the IV price not being as much bang for my buck as recreational drugs. I laughed back at his jokes about how good he did in giving me a head rush. Laughter in the battlefield. It helps. 

The field is changing again. Too full of toxins to continue like this. The new plan: at least a week holiday from the Lyme meds, doc goes to the ILADS conference in Toronto and hopefully comes back with "pearls of wisdom" in how to treat me (I suggested he take lots of Ginko to help his memory), re-start Lyme meds on 10/31 (Halloween -- interesting choice of days) and stay at a low dose (5 drops) for one month in hopes of killing the little Lymies without feeling like we are killing Faith in the process.

So much for my "plan" to increase once a week and be at full dose a year from when I finally got diagnosed. Nope, I am in a changing battlefield. It feels like it changes every moment and I must be flexible and go along with it. I have no choice about needing to move forward amongst great internal chaos and pain. I do have some choices though --- one being how much I laugh. I choose to laugh a lot. Thank you to all that help with this laughter medicine. It is really good stuff!