Moving Forward, Climbing Rocks

I’ve been trying to update this blog for a few weeks now since I know some of you have been wondering what happened after my last post with the somber’ish mood. As a reminder, it was the one where I was consuming ridiculous amounts of food and trying to decipher if the short period of pain I experienced was instigated by an overzealous exercise program or possibly by a Lyme flare. I’m still not positive of what caused the very temporary (five-day) madness I experienced. Times like last month test me in so many ways, but ultimately it is the trust in myself I am reminded I must I hold tight to.

A few people last month commented on my reaction to what I went through as being a test of my faith in the stem cells, my health, etc. They have somehow decided if I were to even briefly consider that once in awhile, things may not be perfect in a body that has just recently stabilized from a living hell, I have lost faith or given into fear. I believe whole-heartedly that the only fear that can injure you, is fear that is repressed. Stare it in its face, acknowledge its presence and then let it go - and it will dissolve. Pretend it’s not there, and it will kick you down. Despite my amazing mind-body connection and the absolute confidence that I know myself better than anyone else ever could, I got well meaning advice galore from those around me who insisted it was definitely not Lyme, but rather one of various other possibilities from a long list (from the full moon to “retracing,” which is a process that can be likened to the healing crisis). Many people tried to lovingly reassure me (good) but there are always the 'know it alls' who are telling you (bad). It's funny how people can take such a defensive ownership...in someone else's life. 

My default thought for times like those are.....'it's probably not Lyme, but what if it is?' I live by the motto, however sometimes lackadaisically, 'better safe than sorry.'

I kind of feel like this deserves an explanation to clarify the difference between post disease fear-driven paranoia and basic common sense. I do not constantly worry about Lyme. In fact, it rarely crosses my mind as an option for any physical symptom that may arise anymore. Headache? I must be dehydrated. Stomach hurts? Too much candy. Tired? I do too much and sleep too little. So, when I wonder about Lyme, it is because I refuse to be the hero that ‘missed all the signs’ because she was so busy trying not to worry about it that she lost all logic. I’ve met those people and they don’t win the race any faster. I had a short nine months of antibiotic therapy before I went to India for stem cells. I know people who have been on antibiotics for 5+ years that still have an active infection. It’s not unreasonable of me to consider that I might need more along the way to maintain where I am. I would rather be honest than stupid.

So, armored with ‘I know best’ ammunition, I ended up making an appointment with my doctor to decide what to do about the ‘whatever happened’ incident (which I have now officially renamed the entire episode). By the time I had the appointment, my only remaining symptom was intuition. It wasn’t necessarily intuition that the Lyme was back, but rather intuition that a short dose of antibiotics would be the right thing – protection IF there was a Lyme flare and peace of mind if there wasn’t.

Even with my doctor’s aggressive treatment style, it was decided I’d go on only 7 days of antibiotics a month, the week before my menstrual cycle which is when ‘whatever happened’ last month, happened. This month was a breeze – no symptoms, no reactions to the meds, no nothing. I am full of energy, still chasing random stem cell craving induced concoctions, and traveling and working without consequence.

Wanting to go back on meds brought me back to so much of how I struggled over the years with the concept that if I simply believe the Lyme could not conquer me, it couldn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I love the idea. I believe in it to a great extent; and live my life in a way where Lyme attacks cross my mind only very occasionally anymore, because I do believe a strong body and mind cannot be conquered. But, there is also reality. There is reality that I simply cannot forget (nor would I want to) how much of the disease is a part of me, in a historical sense really. How it has helped mold me into the person I am, the survivor I knew I’d one day be. Because of that, I have come to a place where I refuse to abuse this amazing blessing of health by simply ignoring the delicateness of it all. This is a brand new place for me.

Six months ago I had a scathing face anytime a dose of 'maintenance' or 'safety' medication was brought up, or I came to a situation where I didn’t think I was strong enough physically or otherwise. But one of the sweetest people in my life has recently said something to me that I'm not sure I've ever considered with my eternal stubbornness. She said that sometimes not being strong, is the strongest thing you can be. The inability to be weak has always been one of my greatest weaknesses but it suddenly seems so much less scary. It’s a lesson that no doubt is hard for me to swallow, but I get it. And coming from one of the strongest people I know, I’m going to take it as absolute truth. Thank you C for making me see things in a new light (we know it's a challenge).

So, I have decided this: I will do ANYTHING to never get back to where I once was. Let it be fueled by a healthy amount of fear that reminds me I am not invincible. Let it be powered by enough strength to let me live without the worry but also enough to admit when I do. But most importantly, let me be patient enough with others to just listen to them and realize they are well meaning but this is still my body and my life. I am thankfully grounded enough to continue on the path I am on despite the rocks in the road – for I have taken a few wrong turns but many many more right ones.

By my sister-in-law’s encouragement (ok, borderline nagging) one day while watching her at her rock climbing gym, I caved into her pleas for me to try it with a hesitant “okay, I will.” Fully unprepared in jeans, I put on the harness, listened to a quick lesson from her and went for it. I was floored by my ease in scaling up the wall even with my slight setback last month. I was totally fearless about the height despite being scared to dizziness on a gondola ride just weeks before at the Santa Cruz pier (albeit being securely fastened in the seat).  I think it reconfirmed how much I trust myself (ok, and my sister-in-law too as she was holding the safety rope in case I fell). It reminded me that I am safe in my own hands; that I have gotten myself this far, to a place where I was pulling my own weight up a wall of rocks. The same weight that just a couple of years ago, I could hardly lift off the couch some days.

I know you need strength and balance to rock climb – two things I didn’t have before my stem cell treatments. But, it also reminded me of some very important lessons that perhaps are more instrumental than muscles and important for more than just times on a rock:

Try to reach the top, no matter how high it may seem.

Never ever look down; it’s the wrong way.

Rock climbing video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvfbszjqSfY.

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About amybscher

With a passion for the little things in life, a former 'career' as a pioneering patient, and a sassy spirit with just enough sweetness to get me by, I live by my self-created motto: when life kicks your ass, kick back.amybscher's profile amybscher's blog