This is my story of Lyme Disease. It was June 2007, I was on my way to New York City for a doula training. Arrangements and “spreadsheets” for the kids’ schedules were taken care of and I had three days to immerse myself in something I love. I had dinner plans to visit friends in NYC and was happy to be staying with my brother and sister-in-law.
The first morning I woke up stiff and creaky and moved myself through some yoga poses and stretches to relieve the pulling. I just felt “off” and tight with underlying soreness through the day, as if I may have been about to get sick.
The second night, I woke up in the middle of the with painful aching all over. What I’d put off as stiffness from an unfamiliar bed didn’t fit with this growing pain. Yet, I stretched in the predawn hours and again after halting dozes. I got through another day, still enjoying the training but increasingly distracted from my achiness. I met a friend for dinner, excited to see her I didn’t want to cancel, but I was struggling.
By the third night, barely sleeping, tossing in pain and sweat and chills, I really knew something was wrong. That day a woman in the training did reiki on me, another massaged my back, the trainer (my dear friend Debra Pascali Bonaro) suggested I lay down on the bed in the room adjacent to the training where I could listen from a horizontal position.
I vividly remember the emotions I had sitting in Penn Station alone, waiting for my train. I felt grateful that at the last minute, I’d decided to take the train instead of driving. I couldn’t believe how dramatically different I felt with each passing day. I hunched on a bench rocking myself and trying anything to distract myself from the pain. The train ride to New London where my Dad met me was excruciating; I curled up and tried to be still, tried to rest. I don’t know how I drove the last leg of the trip to get myself home.
