Hiking

Do your kids ever complain about stuff that doesn't even make sense?


We drove up to the mountains yesterday to go hiking, which means we spent an hour and a half in the car listening to brain-withering conversation from the backseat.  I'd recall what the topics were, but I think that part of my brain died.


The part I do remember is Caleb wailing to leave the mountain because we might fall off and also because there's grass on it.


Caleb (wailing):  "Don't want grass on the mountain!!"


Lizzy the theologian attempted to put an end to the complaining.


Lizzy:  "It's God's plan, Caleb."

Why I'm not a poet

I used to really like that Tom Petty song "Wildflowers."

You belong among the wildflowers

You belong somewhere close to me

Far away from your trouble and worry

You belong somewhere you feel free

The other day I was walking and saw this:

And that song started running through my head.  And I thought, if I frolicked through that dreamy, romantic field of flowers, I would probably encounter about two thousand ticks, and at least 50 of them are carrying Lyme disease.  The place is a minefield!

Besides encouraging dangerous communion with nature, that lovely song is in the throes of denial:

Sail away, kill off the hours...

Go away somewhere all bright and new...

Run away, let your heart be your guide...

You belong in that home by and by

What hapless young woman wouldn't fall in love with such alluring poetry?  He'll even give her a home by and by.  

But think, woman!

He wants to stick you in a field of diseased bugs!  He didn't sing anything about paying the mortgage for that little house!  Or about caring for all your needs when you're laid up with &@$*! Lyme disease for three months because you were twirling around in a field of wildflowers getting ticks in your hair.  

Get real, Tom.  My version would go

I wanna run through thoroughly paved parking lots

Won't you come and avoid disease with me

Trying to cope with our vector-borne worry

You belong somewhere completely tick-free

More lymey details

The instant I woke up Wednesday morning after having posted my litany of symptoms, I remembered one that I neglected to mention:  night sweats.


Lovely.

To be fair, it could just be that I'm overheated at night... and somehow Jason is not, despite 11 years of marriage in which he is always hot and I'm always cold.  And the fact that when I wake up in the morning or in the night, I'm shivering.


And lying in a wet bed.


It's really attractive and enjoyable.

On the plus side, the nightly copious sweating is probably the only reason I haven't gained 20 extra pounds since I recovered the will and ability to eat.  (I have regained all the weight that was lost.)

Another odd but not terribly bothersome symptom is that my muscles sometimes clench up, like when I stretch them.  It's like they're reasserting their raison d'être after being useless for so long.

Periodically, too, I get a nifty little electric-pulse sensation that runs through my body.  I can only guess that's the feeling of nerve regeneration.

I came across this, the biggest caterpillar I have ever seen.  It was cartoonish, straight out of Eric Carle.

He ate through one piece of chocolate cake, one ice-cream cone, one pickle, one slice of Swiss cheese, one slice of salami, one lollipop, one piece of cherry pie, one sausage, one cupcake, and one slice of watermelon.  That night he had a stomachache!

Sadly, despite my initial feeling of triumph, I threw in the towel for now on jogging.  Once I started doing it, I was exhausted all the time--even though it seems so wimpy to be worn out from one slow 3-minute jog.  Since I've gone back to strictly walking, I have enough energy to get through the whole day, though I'm tempted to nap every day at 2:00.

May God give me a heart like Paul's:


"There was given me a thorn in the flesh... to keep me from exalting myself!... And He has said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.'  Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.  Therefore I am well content with weaknesses...with distresses...with difficulties, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong."

2 Corinthians 12:7, 9-10

For those who ask

Three months after the onset of Lyme disease, my symptoms are not yet gone.  The first month was all downhill until I was slumped in a wheelchair, so I have been improving for two months.  As of now:


My jaw is weak, sore and shaky.  (Not nearly as weak.  Eating a meal doesn't wear me out.)


My salivary glands sting intensely whenever I start to salivate; ie, every time I start eating.  If this is the weirdest thing you've ever heard of, you're not alone.  When I described this to a nurse on the phone yesterday, it was met with silence.  Followed by a request to hold please.


My shoulders are stiff.  I can raise my arms momentarily now before it starts to hurt.


My triceps, quads, and calves are sore.  It hurts when the kids sit on my lap or when I squat onto my calves.


My fingertips are tingly.  It's nothing like the numbness that overspread a large portion of my body before, though.


My face is sore.  My cheeks hurt to the touch.


I can't move quickly, as in run, even in short bursts, say, to stop a child running into a road.  My legs are too heavy to move suddenly.

All this is part of my public service announcement:  Check For Ticks!  If you find one on or near you:  Panic and renounce all hope.


But seriously, if it's attached to you, grasp it carefully and calmly with tweezers and pull it out.


And panic.

I'm at least 90% healthy.  My strength is lagging but I am living normally:  walking, talking, picking up my kids, putting meals on the table (thanks to many generous providers we still have meals in the freezer), going up and down stairs like a boss.


I'm a big fan of the Lyme vaccine idea.  When they finally invent that, that is one needle I will eagerly sign up for.

Strength eludes me

We're loving our new house--the views, the proximity to the pool, everything.  And Jason is enjoying a much smaller yard to mow.


Unfortunately his mowing disturbed a nest of baby bunnies, which scattered in all directions.

They were so CUTE!

Caleb is fulfilling his last hurrah as a terrible two.

One night this week, he stuffed a whole roll of Clorox wipes down the toilet, rubbed toothpaste all over his body, bed, blanket, pillow, wall, and toys, and was in process of rubbing down the toilet plunger with toothpaste, in his bed, when I entered.  

He told me, "I'm doing my chores."

The very next morning we learned that our other dear young child had stuffed a whole roll of toilet paper in the other toilet, which proved irreparable with mere household tools.  

At which point I questioned my choice of vocation.

I'm exhausted and I wish I wasn't.  I don't know if I pushed too hard this week in my efforts to recover, or if I'm fighting off some other bug.  Weakness is always frustrating when I just want to get things done already.  

And when my kids are conspiring to stay three steps ahead of me.

Aiming for normal

I'm still getting better.  I realized this morning that I was putting on mascara with one hand, without using the other hand to steady it.


And... I started jogging.


I'm walking gracefully at 3mph every day, so yesterday I added in 1/8 mile of jogging.  Even though I feel great walking, when I break into a (very slow) jog, I suddenly feel like a clunky robot.  Apparently my body has forgotten how.  But it's a start.


(Actually getting out of the wheelchair was a start.  I suppose a clumsy jog is more like the middle/end.)


I unpacked the last of the moving boxes this week too, which was great.  I've been working on reclaiming my closets from the chaos that overtook them while I was sick, and rearranging my kitchen so I can find things.


It was most satisfying to realphabetize my spices.

Ahhhhhh.  It's my kitchen again.

Good to me

It's been a cool, wet summer so far.

Which means it's not always suitable park weather, much less pool weather.


We have made it to the pool a few times.  I'm well enough now to function as a lifeguard for my small children.  I can jump off the diving board too--although when I tried to dive, I regretted it.  Ouch.  My shoulders aren't that sturdy.


Being chilly, I was standing shin-deep in the "little pool," shivering and watching Caleb splash around at my feet, when he announced that I had "pickle legs."


?


Tickle legs?  No.  Clearly "pickle."


Pickle?  Pickle.


I looked down at my legs, and finally said, "Do you mean goosebumps?"


Yes!  Goosebumps.


I suppose pickles sort of have goosebumps too.  So apparently I have pale pickle legs.

A bird showed up to play trucks with Caleb.  You can just see it on the left in this picture.

I took the youngest three kids to see an abridged version of Fancy Nancy: The Musical last week.  

It involved singing, dancing, a tea party, fancy costumes, and, unfortunately, a good deal of drama when Nancy and her friend were disappointingly cast as a tree and an oyster in their fictional dance recital.  

In a room packed with kids and parents, Caleb burst into loud sobs.  He was so disturbed.

Naturally, we were in the very front, so everyone got a nice look (and listen) at us as I stepped through the crowd to take him out.  

He refused to even reenter the building.  Since then, all I've heard about is, "Don't like Fancy Fancy."  When I got him up the next morning:  "Don't like Fancy Fancy."  There has been much promising that Fancy Fancy is all done and we're not taking him back to Fancy Fancy.

I'm so much better than I was.  I can take care of my kids, and even other people's kids too (see above picture).  I can ascend stairs without even holding on.  I can walk at a pace of 3 miles per hour.  It's been days since I've taken any painkiller.


But... I'm not all the way better.  I'm weary of my stiff shoulders, my sore face, my leaden legs.  I'm tired of feeling worn out every afternoon.  I miss stretching out my arm under my pillow when I sleep.


I just want to put it all behind me and forget about having been sick.  I want to straighten up the house and decorate it.  I want to get on top of things.


But certain movements that still bring pain, my lack of stamina, and the piles of unfinished unpacking all serve to remind me that I have been sick, very sick.  And as much as I don't want to think it, I'm not all better yet.


It's really frustrating.


Praise God, who draws us to worship every Sunday.  "For why? The Lord our God is good."


That line was my "oh yeah" moment this Sunday.  He is good.  He has ordained this continued weakness for my good.  It is an expression of His love.  He has good in mind that I can't yet understand.  This slow recovery is not an obstacle to His good purpose, but the avenue of it.

From the hearts of the weak

From the shouts of the strong

From the lips of all people

This song we raise, Lord

William Kethe, "All People That on Earth Do Dwell"
Don Harris and Gary Sadler, "Lord Most High"