I’ve been telling my mom for months that she should do a guest post here. Months, I tell you! And I had thought that my ahem “hints” had fallen upon deaf ears. I have news: they didn’t! She surprised me last week with this and asked me to share it with you.

Mom @ Lake Superior_2


First, let me introduce you to Laura Murphy, my mom. She’s been in Lyme treatment herself since last Fall after being chronically ill for over twenty years. And she’s one of my best supporters.

I could write up a mini bio about her myself, but I thought, “What fun! I’ll use her Twitter bio!”.

Here’s what she says about herself: Married 30 years, mother of three, charity thrift store manager, Lyme-fighter, loves to read, write, garden, bike, & cook gluten-free semi-vegetarian yumminess.


Damned if you do and damned if you do

The insidiousness of the Lyme spirochete continually astounds me. As if it’s not hard enough to deal with the daytime struggles, annoyances and outright outrages, they must creep in like the vermin they are and infest my nighttime slumber, my peaceful port in a storm: my dreams of health and vitality. My vision, at night at least, of myself as a normal, healthy, functioning person. Damn the buggers! It’s “Lyme in Action” in a dream (cue the dream sequence)…

(Now this part is the dream!) For some reason, I had decided to take a class at the U. Psychology, to be exact. So when I got home from work, I threw what I needed in my back pack, jumped on my bike, and pedaled off to school. When I got there, I hung out in some fictional version of a student lounge, with a lot of other, much younger, students, while I waited for class time. Suddenly, I realized that I had finished the semester in Psychology and had neglected to sign up for the next semester! Panic shot through me! My immediate thought was that I had to quickly go sign up and pay for the class before it started. So I looked around for my backpack, but it was nowhere in sight. The other students helped me look around too, but it had disappeared. My first thought was that my wallet and credit cards were in there—more panic! I knew I had to call my husband to tell him to cancel the cards. I tried to find a security guard to report the theft to, but the only person I could find was a young girl who was some sort of a help desk attendant. I told her what happened and asked for a phone to call my husband. She handed me a tiny keychain-like device that appeared to be some ultra high-tech phone that I couldn’t figure out. I asked her for help and she rolled her eyes and sighed, as if old people like me were so helpless. I began to create a scene. After all, I was the victim of a crime, and all I’d like to do is report it and get some help, for Pete’s sake. I shouted, I stamped my feet, I became really angry. There may have been wild gesticulations; a crowd was beginning to gather. Finally an official of some sort with a uniform and a radio came over. Help was at hand! But just as I was explaining about the theft and the lack of assistance and the deplorable state of affairs at the U, I realized with a sinking feeling that my backpack was actually hanging on my shoulder. Gulp. No one had noticed it. Not me, not the students helping me, not the unhelpful help desk person, not the security guard. Good, I thought, with relief….so with my face beginning to turn red, I shouted “Fine, I’ll take care of it myself!” and made a hasty getaway.

Sigh. Stupid things happen to me in real life, and stupid things happen in my dreams…Is there no escaping this wily bug? So the next time you find yourself in an argument with someone in the throes of self-delusion, who insists that she is right and everyone else is WRONG, WRONG, WRONG—stop and think. Be kind. Perhaps she has Lyme disease and even now is wondering how she can possibly extricate herself from this one. Be kind.

At least we can laugh—afterwards. Right?

~ Laura