June 30, 2013

• Time Comes and Goes

   Time comes and goes. Lyme treatment continues. I had a rather troublesome spot over the previous two weeks when starting my current antibiotic duo. The “Brain Weasels”:every paranoid, self-denigrating, depressed thought I have ever had seemingly broke through the jail into which my mind had imprisoned them, and danced morosely through my mind and into my consciousness. Medications were adjusted and eventually, I was returned to a state of equanimity.  This medication combo works more in the brain. I am told that the Brain Weasels are the result of misfiring neurons from the inflammation of the Lyme die-off. It is,to say the least,very unpleasant. 

     Today the sun was shining and I felt well enough, after morning coffee and perusal of the Internet, to walk around outside to view the gardens. The Chief has been the one doing most of the planting and maintaining. I would show you pictures, but I still have not located the digital camera I put away for safe keeping. 

     The grass is thick and dewy, the result of the abundance of rain and humidity we’ve experienced in New England over the last few weeks. Near the Egyptian Mint patch surrounding the apple tree, Asiatic Lilies have been planted. Of the seven bulbs, three have thrust through the soil. One has little buds the size of whole cashews crowning it’s spiky leaves. The irises are past their prime but the lupines are still sporting sword length plumes of that pinky brown color lupines do so well.  Phlox is heading up with buds, the promise of fragrance apparent. The garlic patch is well-mulched, but still had grass sprouting within the rows. I laid down my canes and settled on a hummock of old straw near the outermost row and started to weed. The Chief joined me and weeded three rows in the time it took me to do one. These are very short rows, and was slowed by the cumbersome feel of my body. Still, I found pleasure in reaching in and deftly removing the stalks of grass, sparing the growing heads from the stunting strangulation of the grass roots. I worked a little more in the bed of dill and lettuce adjacent to the garlic patch. The dill has been stunted after surviving a late,unanticipated frost.  They won’t last long enough to make pickles when the cucumbers are ready, so we will harvest them and buy dill from the Farmer’s Market when the time comes for pickling. 

     I did not pickle in 2012. I wasn’t well enough to do so. In 2011, taking Percocet and being in pain, I did pickle with the assistance of a friend. Alas, some of the cucumbers were too big and my judgement none too keen is using them and forcing them into the jar when packing, so a great deal of the batch was lost. I am determined to pickle this year because this is the only culinary way I can nurture my family and show my love. I want to pickle, because it is something I enjoy.  I experience great pleasure at seeing the gleaming glass jars with their brassy, shiny tops and rings in my pantry closet.  I relish the compliments from my family when they receive my gift. It makes me happy.

     I am so much healthier than I was two years ago. For this I give thanks. Their is, potentially, more health, more function, for me to recover and so I continue with Lyme treatment no matter how ignominious it makes me feel. For I am lovingly supported by my husband, my family and friends. They bear me up when I am ashamed of my weakness. They infuse me with determination to persevere. I am lucky to have such love and caring and compassion surrounding me.

  Blessings abound

  • 11:28 am
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