Lyme Life ~ Voodoo Dolls

Many Lymies that I have met have been sick and misdiagnosed for a decade or three. In 1988, I got terribly ill. I’d had lots of aches and pains, lethargy on occasion, stomach problems since childhood, but this was different. Since then, I like the target of a group of sadistic kids used Voodoo dolls to determine my fate.

What’s Going On?

After my second baby was born, it was as though my nervous system just shut down. I wasn’t in a ton of pain, but I couldn’t get my body to move at times. I was diagnosed with a sinus infection, but that didn’t answer the question of why an arm or my legs wouldn’t move intermittently. So, I saw doctors, lots of doctors. Thousands of dollars in medical bills for tests month after month yielded, “There’s something wrong with you, but we don’t know what.” That was from the head of Neurology at Brigham and Woman’s Hospital, at the time.

They said that I tested negative for Lyme Disease among many other things. After a while, I got stronger again and was able to go back to work, part time. I did pay off the bills and continued to have crazy pain, fatigue and all sorts of other problems.

I imagined someone had voodoo dolls somewhere on the other side of the world in my likeness. They put one hand in the fire, use pliers to wrench the shoulder or hip and pull muscles randomly. Maybe shove a hot poker into the legs. Pour tar into the mouth to muck up the insides. Stomp on the face, dunk it in ice water. Hit the teeth with a mallet, punch it in the throat, fill the lungs with heavy smoke and clamp the chest, and a bunch of other fun stuff.

There were so many random symptoms. For a couple years, I had reactionary asthma. Certain chemicals would cause me to do a great Darth Vader impression for hours and hours. During another span of time, one or more joints in my hands would swell, turn bright red and hurt like a bugger!

Doctors Don’t Always Know

My regular doctor didn’t believe me. He said I was stressed. After a few times being told that I was nothing but a headcase and they weren’t going to do anything for me, I pretty much swore off going to the doctors. I found ways of dealing. We are survivors, right?

For 28 years, one thing after another, often compounding symptoms, solidified my perception that I was damaged goods. It didn’t help that I had been sexually abused as a child and sold into sex slavery at 14 years old. To be sick for so long would take a toll on anyone, but for someone with unresolved trauma, it can cause serious mental anguish.

I had five children and a bunch of animals to take care of and I had my volunteer work, on top of my job as a nurse. So, I was able to stay focused on things other than my past abuses, except when my body refused to go along. Some days, I would have to choose between working on a newsletter or taking a shower. After taking care of the kids, there was often nothing left in my energy reserves.

I started dealing with the past more whenever I couldn’t force myself to be doing anything else. In those times God’s goodness would comfort me. I set aside times to concentrate on growing in my faith and the grace of God in my early 20s. Now, was a time for deeper healing of my emotions.

Finding Connections

I read this interesting article about how adverse childhood experiences contribute to disease. I don’t suppose many people will be able to avoid terrible things in childhood, but knowing should help in a holistic approach to healing.

Down for the count meant that I could count on rising stronger and more prepared to minister to others.   2 Corinthians 1:3-5 says, basically, “that with which you have been comforted, you should now comfort others.”

I am clawing toward a period of remission again after two long years of torture. I may never achieve the level of functioning that I’ve had in the past, but I hope you’ll join me in hoping for a better future.

If you can relate, I pray your voodoo dolls are retired.