It has rained and rained and rained. Which is perfect sleeping weather when you're sick.
I wouldn't mind sitting in the sun to convalesce, but the rain is fine, too.
Joanna brought chicken soup that she made. It was delicious. She also brought her dog, Canella, to play with Daisy.
Ellie brought bone broth with some magical stuff to add to it, for more flavor. It was the first warm food I had had in two days and it was perfect. It's amazing how the most simple foods taste so good when you're sick and haven't eaten much. Ellie also brought her dog, Harry, to play with Daisy.
Little brought flowers. And cheese and bread, which Coco and Nate have enjoyed; I am not quite up to cheese-eating yet.
Lu brought herself, which is powerful healing, alone.
Lyme hit me like a freight train, though I think it was probably sneaking up for a while. I found the tick last Saturday, on my way to Mettawee Mill Nursery to get flowers for the gardens. Joanna was there already, buying exotic plants: coffee and bay laurel. She pulled the tick off for me.
On Friday I felt sick. On Saturday I felt worse. By Sunday I was loopy with joint and spinal aches, fever, foggy head and deep fatigue. Those little bugs pack a wallop, do they ever.
I get the feeling that no one really knows what to do about Lyme, yet. It's so mysterious and presents in so many ways. Like shooting fish in a barrel, doctors are tossing antibiotics at the problem, or they're not. And people are getting really sick.
Take all your stocks and bonds and investment situations and convert them to real estate in tick-free regions. Tick-free real estate will be the bottled water of the future, mark my words.
There is always a blessing in illness. It puts life in slow motion. It's a reminder of the profound generosity of friends and family. It is hard times, deep-fried in love.
The steady stream of "How can I help?" and "What do you need?" has brought me to tears more than once these past few days.
The kindness and compassion of my kids, who keep saying, "Mom, you take care of us all the time." Of course I take care of them all the time and I don't expect anything in return, but I see now that they've learned a thing or two about tending to a sick person, and boy does it make the fires of pride and awe burn inside me.
To soften and allow others to caretake is never easy, but it's part of the give and take of life and everyone does their time on one end or the other.
Rain on the roof, rain on the flowers, chicken soup and bone broth warming on the stove, six things to read sitting on the table, a loyal Coonhound curled up with me in bed, tired from all her playdates. The caretakee is not my natural posture. Tough luck, old girl, because the tick got its way and the caretakers are booted and spurred. Amen.
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