When the Other Shoe Drops
Not long ago, I sat with my daughter on my lap, holding her arms down while she screamed. The first attempt at a blood draw had failed and we were moving on to the second arm. She’ll be five next month.
She usually does quite well with these things. She hops up into the chair, thrusts her arm upon the attendant and begins discussing her prize options. And that’s how this day had begun as well. But then they couldn’t find a vein, and then the pesky vein wouldn’t cooperate, and she didn’t want to do it again. And these tests were important. So I held her down and I prayed the tests told us what we needed to know. And then she got two prizes, one for each arm.
But now, I sort of wish those tests hadn’t told us what they did- that my daughter has Lyme disease. They sent the tests to three different labs to be sure, and they are quite sure. She is CDC positive.
Her symptoms have felt like one of those snowballs you watch on a cartoon, picking up mass and speed over time, but they were also eerily familiar at times. Not that I have ever run a fever every day for weeks on end, and I will forever love her immune system for the fight it’s putting up, but other pieces, things she said put a chill down my spine.
I confess to you that I took a couple of days to let myself be utterly gutted, to hope and pray with all of my might that her journey would look nothing like mine.
In truth, I know nothing about what her journey will look like. Here’s what I do know: her immune system is fighting hard and that is good, that fight led us to the source of infection and now we can fight alongside her, taking her to the right doctors, getting her the right treatments and support her body needs. I know God will never leave or forsake her or us, that his plans for her and us are good. I know that she is funny and confident and strong and a walking Lyme disease awareness campaign despite the fact she doesn’t know she has it. (We haven’t yet figured out how or when to talk to her about this diagnosis. Maybe we will call it Lyme, maybe we won’t.)
Some will ask if we ever removed a tick from her body. We did not. I did, however, carry her in my very symptomatic body which had not yet been treated, but did have Lyme. Maybe she got bit by a tick we didn’t see; maybe it was passed in utero. We don’t know. So, we may not know how the story began, but we know how it ends. We come out stronger.
We’d love your prayers, but not your product pushing. Please allow us to provide Avery with the care and products we feel are best for her in this time, after much research, prayer and consideration.Whatever you are fighting today, however the story began, may you come out stronger as the story ends. Click To Tweet