August Blues

I’ve been waiting for things to take a wonderful turn for the better so I can report something lovely. Hasn’t happened, so here’s the boring, difficult truth.

The June uterectomy/ooferectomy surgery was a success (seems I had debilitating endometriosis), and I still have one healthy ovary intact. Also survived a July, fully of birthdays and anniversaries with my soon-to-be-ex-spouse (we had a good time together).

But now I am slogging through August trying to continue to recover from surgery while adjusting to new Lyme meds, restarting physical therapy and non-aerobic walking while finishing legal paperwork for the divorce and taxes.

It is all hard, all painful, and from day-to-day seems overwhelming if not downright impossible. I am better in some ways, but am so extremely fatigued that I have the energy for maybe one task per day. On a remarkable day, two. Simply scheduling an energy audit seems undoable, and I really must do it. My electric bill is off the charts — way too large for my small place. And I must also find out what has happened to my application for Medicare B. And apply for some other state services I may be eligible for now. I am still not unpacked — haven’t been strong enough. Haven’t been able to think clearly enough to organize. One of the reasons I put off the energy audit is that I’d like to have a few more things put away and have easier access to all things electric. Hasn’t happened yet.

On top of it all, I am grieving that the life I planned for is completely gone, forever. This takes far more energy that I would have guessed. Small wonder I find moving forward near impossible.

In spite of all this, I think I am a little better, post surgery, although it is nearly impossible to tell only seven weeks out what with all the fatigue. I still need pain meds, although not very much, mostly for Lyme pain. But I’m not writing (reflected in lack of blog entries) or creating any art. A very bad sign.

I read a meditation last night that asked me what gifts I would ask from the Universe to help me through this difficult time. It has never occurred to me to ask for gifts, and I found it impossible to think of anything to ask for since every good thing I have wanted seems to be taken away from me.

So, I guess if you read this, send good thoughts my way, and wish me the energy I need to do what needs to be done. That would seem like a miracle at this point.

Blessings to you all.

But You LOOK Good…

Here’s a couple of things for those of you who want to understand what it’s like to be chronically ill.

First, a good description of Lyme fatigue I found on a support bulletin board. It was an answer to a guy who said he wanted to understand why his formerly vibrant wife (who now has Lyme Disease) could only sit on the couch and watch TV all day:

“Perhaps, you can think of it this way… Remember a time when you had a very bad flu, now, add your worst hangover, then think of what it might be like with cotton in your head, place on that sore muscles after a marathon, mix in the fear of not knowing how you are going to feel from one moment to the next, or if you will ever regain your stamina again, and maybe, just maybe…you might begin to catch a glimpse of what a GOOD day feels like.”

Second, here is a link with an excerpt from a booklet published by the Invisible Disabilities Advocate (

But You “LOOK” Good! The wrong thing to say to someone with a chronic illness

%d bloggers like this: