Drip,
Drip,
Drip,
Drip,
Drip.
This is my brain on Lyme’s Disease.
About as useless as a leaky faucet
in performing it’s basic function.
Everything is slow
and
meandering
and
fuzzy.
I can’t remember faces.
I can’t remember names or dates or places.
Everything must be written down
on a crisp, white notepad near my bed.
Everything.
Simple things like:
- Do laundry
- EAT
- Take a shower
- MEDICINE
- DRINK WATER
- EAT!!
- Take a walk
- Do yoga
- Did you eat enough today???? (I know eating isn’t something you like to do because you’re nauseous most the time. But you need to eat. And you need to eat more than you do. Honestly, you really need to eat.)
I’m feel like I’m talking to a 2-year-old sometimes.
Only the 2-year-old is myself.
And there is no Mother.
There’s only me reprimanding
over and over and over
to
“TRY TO REMEMBER to take care of yourself.
Because taking of yourself is the only way you’ll get better.”
What?
What was that?
I can’t quite comprehend.
My head is like a giant ear
that is plugged and can’t quite hear.
It’s all watery and blurry.
It aches and throbs.
All it wants is to do nothing,
because when it does nothing
it doesn’t hurt.
It doesn’t feel the pain and tiredness and nausea
overpowering it.
Trying is too difficult.
I just exist,
and shut down,
and do as I damn well please.
(Which is actually a pretty good victory
for a brain on Lyme’s Disease.)
***
Photo by Adobe Stock/Gajus
