Tuesday, December 8, 2009


I'm having a pretty rough time with Christmas this year.  I'm not feeling it at all.  This is unfortunate because Monkey is at the *just right * age to really enjoy it. I am attempting to drag the decorations out and put them up, but there's a lot of them and how did they get so heavy? Indiana has ripped up one Santa pillow, one stuffed snowman, 3 Christmas pencils and continues to sniff around for more.  Why am I letting the dog get at the stuff you ask?  I'M NOT.  Monkey is just so excited he is ripping through things and leaving them strewn about the floor.  It reminds me of Demi Moore rolling around in a pile of money in Indecent Proposal. I feel as though I need to avert my eyes and give Monkey time alone to rub musical trains and nutcrackers all over himself.

I have yet to tackle ANY Christmas presents and yet December continues to roll over me and try to drown me like a tsunami. December hates me. Before Christmas even rears it ugly misshapen head there is Monkey's birthday.  December 12th marks the 7th anniversary of his life and that DAY OF MORPHINE I ENJOYED.  (Ah, good times.  Good times.)  We're having a Star Wars party (again) this year.  I do count us fortunate that we are blessed enough to be able to give him a party every year at the age he can enjoy it. That being said, GOOD LORD it's overwhelming. We are having the party this year at Storyville Station and my good friend Brian, the owner, will of course take care of everything. I know it will be spectacular.  An hour and a half of sound effects and lightsaber beatdowns with plenty of costumes and cupcakes to be enjoyed by all. But this is me.  This is my life.  My lyme life.  I am so tired and exhausted and overwhelmed at just the thought of things that I'm worn out before they begin.  Just as an idea takes shape of *things to come* my brain starts the catastrophic melt down of chemicals and toxins, and BOOM.  There goes Jen. It's like some kind of self-destruct count down. No superheros to rush in and stop it before I explode into a million tiny pieces.

I am now at 15 months of antibiotic treatment. I am some better, some worse.  The antibiotics kill off the evil lyme and friends and as they die their toxins poison me.  I am only 97 pounds of girl, and I don't know how much it would take to just kill me.  How to kill IT before it kills ME?  Quite the conundrum that no one really has figured out yet. So up and down I go being tossed between Lyme alive and Lyme dead. I have spent the past 2 months reading and meeting others with Lyme in LymeFriends on the web.  The internet has given me a wonderful tool to learn and bond with others who "get it". I have met some of the nicest people and I truly believe I have made some really good new friends.  So with all the evil sickness comes happiness and hope.   The Universe balances itself out.

Life is happening so fast around here.  I'm spinning and spinning between raising a child (that means all the stuff he will eventually go into therapy for), taking care of a child (that means making sure he remains alive, moderately healthy and hygienic), fighting an unseen and invisible invader inside my body that robs me of my vital life force second by second, making sure autism symptoms do not creep back in for Monkey and rob him of his quality of life, and of course, all the day to day shenanigans and shit that compromise living.  Whew. Sometimes I feel like Chevy Chase just tied to me the back of the bumper and dragged me across the Western United States. Hopefully, when I get to where I am going WallyWorld will be OPEN FOR BUSINESS.

So, on this gray rainy morning I once again am faced with the question, "Should I accomplish something or should I just lay down and nap?"