I'm Allergic To My Life

“I need you to do something I know you won’t want to do, so, whenever you are ready let me know”

……

If someone sneezes across town I get a cold. At least, that’s how it seems lately. After a string of illnesses, including: two colds, eczema, multiple rounds of mastitis, and joint pain that had me hunched over like an 80-year-old, I found myself at the doctor yet again. Surely, this must be the domino effect that breastfeeding twins after a complicated pregnancy and severe postpartum hemorrhaging takes on your body.  Yet, after a thorough review of all symptoms, additional blood work, and follow up phone calls, I learned that it was even better. Lyme Disease. FANTASTIC. I don’t even go anywhere! Truly, I have barely even walked around the block since the babies were born.

Almost instantly, I find myself on antibiotics with the warning that I may feel worse before I feel better. Out of habit, I optimistically assume that it won’t be so bad. Au contraire. I was so fatigued and sore that I barely got out of bed for the next few days. Then, it seemed like the symptoms started a circuitous route around my body. I began feeling like I was back in an Abnormal Psych class in college where the professor warns you that during the course of the semester you’ll self-diagnose with all types of symptoms, except these were legit.  Oh, and since my system is weak I am still more susceptible to anything else that crosses my path. Awesome.

So, it was no surprise to Spencer when he came home from work one day and I said “I need you to do something I know you won’t want to do, so, whenever you are ready let me know”. I can only imagine what was running through his mind as I assured him that there was nobody else who could help. I proceeded to tell him that I needed him to check my head for Lice because I was itching all over. By this point, I had actually begun to itch and feel pin-pricks all over my body but declined to mention this as lately it seems every time he turns around I’m mentioning some new ailment. He looked at me in that silent “there’s no way I’m doing that” look to which I responded out loud with “you are the only other adult here. You have to do this”.

To that, I found myself sitting on our front porch. Spencer insisted the light was best there and I was at his mercy. So, there I sat, facing the neighborhood and hoping that everyone had something else they were doing so nobody would see me and wonder, or even worse, know, what was going on.

After several minutes, I asked Spencer if he was finding anything (it seemed to be taking an inordinately long time). I described exactly what he should find according to the flyer that is sent home occasionally from Elliana’s school. He hemmed and hawed and then said “well, I can’t tell. I just ate a sugar cookie and didn’t wash my hands”.

WHAT?!?!

After shock, disbelief, and a lot of laughter because, seriously, if I don’t laugh at this stuff I will cry, I decided to call the doctor. Apparently, the itching AND pin-pricks can be from the Lyme Disease medication.

I am almost afraid for what tomorrow may bring.