As I opened my eyes to the morning sunlight peeking through my blinds, for a feel blissful seconds, I forgot the many reasons I shouldn’t feel as calm as I did in that moment.But not a minute later, it all came rushing back, and my stomach did a somersault.
For the last eleven years of being sick, time has been my enemy.
The first sign I was ill was that I started moving in slow-motion—I lost awareness of time passing. Doctors thought it was late-onset Attention-Deficit Disorder. Instead, as I’d find out eight years later, my immune system was attacking my brain.
These messages come to my inbox nearly every week from kids and teenagers who think PANS or Lyme is the end of the life they once loved; from adults who’ve been fighting for years, unsure how much longer they can go through the cycle of relapse, treatment, and recovery; and even from parents who are tired of being too strong for too long.
Three months ago, as I drove away victoriously from the IV infusion center for the ninth, and final, time that semester, I almost dared hope I’d left behind the last three years of treatments and relapses… Almost.
It was the end of my college career, and I’d just spent its entirety fighting Lyme disease and an autoimmune condition that doctors still aren’t sure how to treat—or what the long-term prognosis is. I’d not only juggled exams and papers and weird living arrangements for four and-a-half years, but I’d been battling through countless procedures and medications and appointments—always in the naive hope that my illness would soon be over. Continue reading “Is There Hope in the Unknown of Chronic Illness?”→
I’ll never forget the day I first set foot in a Lyme clinic, as I watched other patients with pale, exhausted faces roll into the waiting room in wheelchairs. I’d just finished another semester of college and a ten-mile run that weekend. I remember thinking, I can’t possibly be sick enough to have Lyme Disease. What am I doing here?