Going to my Lyme Disease doctor isn’t fun. I’ve never come out of the exam room skipping like a school and twirling my hair, for the simple fact that chronic Lyme Disease is a bitch. No… it’s more than that. It’s a bitch on steroids… with an attitude problem and a set of brass knuckles.
As I sat on the exam table today, frustration and hopelessness reared their ugly heads and I lost my sh*t. Tears streamed down my face as my kind and gentle doctor hugged me close and told me that things were going to be all right.
I took a deep breath, adjusted my big girl panties and limped out of the office. I figured I could cry all the way home, which would increase my chance of blindly running off the road and into a herd of cows, OR… I could play some John Denver to set my soul right.
All alone in the universe, sometimes that’s how it seems
I get lost in the sadness and the screams
Then I look in the center, suddenly everything’s clear
I find myself in the sunshine and my dreams
– John Denver