(did you say,) "Lyme Disease? OH no you Di'n't!"

"Lyme disease is the most rapidly spreading vector-borne disease in the world.

The medical world is divided with one group saying that it is rare, easy to diagnose and easy to treat, and the other saying it is a difficult diagnosis because of the negativity of the ELISA test and the lack of medical education of medical students, family practitioners and specialists.

There is an urgent need for making the public and the medical world aware of this since there is an unexplained Lyme denial problem prevalent in our medical association.
I have seen many suffering from arthritis, mental fog, and severe fatigue and most of these patients have gone undiagnosed to the present day. "

Quote from "The Spread of Lyme Disease" http://www.theconference.ca/index.php?/The-Spread-Of-Lyme-Disease by Dr. Ernie Murakami http://www.theconference.ca/index.php?/Murakami-Dr.-Ernie

Nuff Said?

I can't even go there, to tell the horror I feel. But the blessing is the opportunity for a better than conventional , alternative treatment.

I will speak disjointedly, just and only as a manner to update you all.

Currently being treated for Lyme's Disease. Explains A LOT. But too over being in the horror to explain the mechanics of the thing, or what it's meant for me. Apparently for years now. To quote Joe vs the Volcano of his Brain Cloud: "I KNEW IT!!! I mean, I didn't know it, but .... I KNEW IT!" His Brain Cloud issue was not serious much less real (as many may say of Lyme's) but it's symptoms dogged him for years.

The part I cannot take? My darling boy, my 15 year old with Mono since March apparently has it too.

I am taking the good and the blessings right along with the curse of it. But it's taking everything I have. Not to give in. For very long. With every burst of energy I can muster, however infinitesimal, I jump on that wave, determined to fight this, to drive out the fear and depression that are attacking us both.

My honor roll student hasn't been able to attend a full day of school since mid-March. Is too exhausted to do much, walks, more like shuffles like an old man, and then leans against a wall or sits in chair in order to make it across a room. It will take every bit of strength fortitude and advocacy we can lay claim to for him to finish the year. Good grades optional. But how to convince him? He who is all or nothing, can't do it halfway and live with himself, no matter how we reassure him? We are constantly working on that, too.

So. Not terribly creative during all this. Feel a bit broken, actually. But determined. At least at the moment. So many things have been on the back burner any way, since before any diagnosis. It's hard not to be well, harder still not to be able to hope realistically for a speedy recovery.

But we're still here. Fighting. And I'm missing you all.

I check in every once in a while...

Wishing you all HEALTH!

It's the best wish I can wish for you, along with peace, love, safety, whole hearts, and dear ones near.

xo

On my Plate... Up Stethoscope

The light, the air, balm to my soul and spirit. To dare to speak of a seemingly trite subject: We have had remarkable weather. All summer and into fall. Low humidity, sun filled days, beautiful changing skies, insane changing clouds. I feel blessed. Protected. Watched over.

And so it aids me as a worrier and a Mom with all that has gone on this year, and is going on currently at home here. Not to worry. To find a moment of pause. To try to be grounded. To have faith and peace. Even when confronted with things that normally would have sent me over. Into stress and freaked me out. Those catalysts are with me. But I am more at peace, more able to watch and wait. To be still and try to know that God is God.

My handsome teenager, with the lightening fast paparazzi palm, always blocking my attempts to capture his image, whose frequently requested Heath Ledger/Joker impression is eerie and uncanny, whose fine face the other night after removing as much of the test Joker/Halloween makeup as possible and who in the residue of white face, red stained lips, black ringed eyes and tousled too long hair looked startlingly like Mr. Pattinson as Mr. Cullen....

My asthmatic anaphylactic son has had pneumonia. Again. Back out after years relegated to the upper shelf are the stethoscope. The nebulizer. The illness that gave me gray hair, the illness that was not my own, but which left me gasping for breath in empathy is with us again. Am I more mature. Am I more able to cope with life. I'm not sure. Could be. Is he stronger? Probably. Am I needing to, already, on a nearly daily basis, step into a place of peace, to find quiet, to find spirit, to breathe, to wait, to pray. Yes. And does this prepare me more for what would have completely shaken me years ago? Perhaps. It was surprising to me to find that people were/are praying. While I was trying to maintain here, while I wasn't really able to reach out, to let people know what was happening, people from all over were praying. I am grateful. Thankful.

I still have my moments. I still freak out. But I'm revelling in the positive. He is on the mend now. We can all breathe easier now. For now. I am silently more vigilant than before. Whether or not that does any good. We all need to be this season. This year in particular.

Blessings and Health to you all.

xo

Waters of March

Waters Of March

by Antonio Carlos Jobim. (to hear it, scroll down to end of post page and play it!)



A stick, a stone
It's the end of the road
It's the rest of the stump
It's a little alone
It's a sliver of glass
It is life, it's the sun
It is night, it is death
It's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms
A fox in the brush
The knot of the wood
The song of the thrush
The wood of the wind
The cliff, a fall
A scratch, a lump
It is nothing at all
It's the wind blowing free
It's the end of a slope
It's a beam, it's a void
It's a hunch, it's a hope

And the riverbank talks
Of the waters of March
It's the end of the strain
It's the joy in your heart

The foot, the ground
The flesh and the bone
The beat of the road
A slingshot stone
A truckload of bricks
In the soft morning light
The shot of the gun
In the dead of the night
A mile, a must
A thrust, a bump
It's a girl, it's a rhyme
It's a cold, it is the mumps
The plan of the house
The body in bed
And the car that got stuck
It's the mud, it's the mud
A float, a drift
A flight, a wing
A cock, a quail
Oh, the promise of spring

And the riverbank talks
Of the waters of March
It's the promise of life
It's the joy in your heart

And the riverbank talks
Of the waters of March
It's the promise of life
It's the joy in your heart

A point, a grain
A bee, a bite
A blink, a buzzard
A sudden stroke of night
A pin, a needle
A sting, a pain
A snail, a riddle
A wasp, a stain
A snake, a stick
It is John, it is Joe
A fish, a flash
A silvery glow
The bed of the well
The end of the line
The dismay on the face
It's a loss, it's a find
A spear, a spike
A point, a nail
A drip, a drop
The end of the day

And the riverbank talks
Of the waters of March
It's the promise of life
In you



Performed by Basia

Reprieve... CONNECTION!

Thank you, all of you, for your sympathy, empathy really.

I feel joyfully foolish, though certainly not foolishly joyful!

I have found the cousins I was seeking. An address now listed as a different town than the one we refer to, listed as one I believed to be miles to the east, a telephone listing and newspaper mentions using a different first name, and with it numerous locations... a map that looks different-- more streets than I remember, than possibly there were when I visited that magical crossroads.



Found found found! And when I called what I thought to be this "other location", to see if there was any current affiliation with the family from "that" town, the young girl said, "Oh I wouldn't know; I'm new and not related to the family here... "And proceeded to refer me to my father's cousin, directly! (TG)

We have spoken, and emailed. My heart is replete. My joy is returned.

I feel silly to have suffered seemingly needlessly, though on further introspection, further assimilation or perhaps in stillness and serenity, I see the need for such experiences; to be called, to be galvanized to do that which we would put off again for another day, which we will certainly not have limitless tomorrows to accomplish. A gift.

Second miracle:

Amazingly enough, my spouse, who has endured my tears and joys and entreaties to go back, had an experience tonight. Away on business, and sharing experiences after a work session, someone told of their 2 trips to Ireland. When asked what part was the ultimate for them, they shared a story of a family pub where they were so very welcomed on their first trip; a warm magical place. When the time came for their second visit, years later, they found themselves traveling 400 miles out of their way to return to this wonderful family and their pub. They couldn't leave without seeing them once more. They named the place, the town, the family I was searching for-- the very ones! I am overwhelmed... this cannot be mere coincidence. Their magic is evident, as is the magic that is spurring me on now, to make this trip!

In all that I have experienced and surrendered these past months, too, I feel the cycle of life is bringing to me the exercise of surrender, so that when the big storms come, I am not brittle, do not break...

>

For eventually, the bigger storms do come.

Just not today.

;)

ps Noreen, Ciara, and anyone else, please? If you figure it out, please don't give me away! I tell you, the world is getting smaller, as I am becoming more transparent, every day... as is my true nature I suppose... ;)

ne sutor ultra crepidam

It has all become over-proofed. Like the dough, too long, the yeast extended to it's greatest, and it's product, co2, has run out of space to expand-- poof... there is nothing else to contain it. Odd that what has been experienced as joy, and potential joy, life changing energy, loosed for the common good, imperceptibly perceived by all, for weeks, even months, should escape as grief...

After all, joy is not happiness. They are not interchangeable. My heart has been inexplicably full, and I have been grateful. It has been evidenced in real (however transitory) changes in my life, my relationships, my perspective.

And yet, here I am, in grief.

My father is slipping away... I need to see him, to talk to him, to be with him, and yet am not able. Obstacles, which I allow, and obstacles outside anyone's control, get in the way. I experience him alone, without him here. Yet, he is not gone. Not yet, but slipping, slipping...

My teenager no longer needs me like once upon a time-- I never imagined how painful that could be. I embrace it in theory, yet my heart... it does not. Not yet. I know the person he needs to become, but transition is difficult; letting go of a connection, even relatively little by little, to a heart that was once so completely bound up in your own, is painful. It tears at me, causes me to behave outside of the love that I feel, and I am ashamed.

My hoped for friend, friendship offered, gently proffered, is not. I can no longer. How strange that I should feel so real a connection to one who claims their heart is closed, that life is trivial, that no real human connection can ever be made. How strange that our conversations awakened in me a recognition of the freeing nature of sublime beauty, of tragedy, of interconnectedness. How strange that their words should be cosmically moving to me, through no intent of their own, nor any recognition. Perhaps it is my own unwitting perception of this human tragedy that made our brief acquaintanceship so poignant. Yet I believe, I know there is more to it than that.

I am an adult, not some teen with grand illusions, nor hoped for allusions... I am not naive. So often cynical in the past, I now strive to intentionally create my own life's reality, with that which is within my power, and yet. And yet.

There are things I am powerless to control. Such a balance to be struck.

Soon, the door will open-- less than 5 minutes. The time for peace, for pure, shoulder shaking grief will rapidly wither, the pile of spent snowman napkins will be thrown away.

And I will go on with the duties in front of me, grateful for this pain-- that it should find an appropriate time, that it should be released. For now. I will go on with my day.


William Shakespeare:
Go to your bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.

Carl Jung:
Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.