You know those times, when your body feels empty of oxygen, blood, all major functioning organs, and especially energy?
I’ve decided to name those times. From this moment on, I shall call them
Over the past several days I was curled up with my dear little dog on my lap, feeling exactly as described above. Snuggled up still in my pajamas at an ungodly hour with my television providing an object on which to focus my attention, I realized after several hours that I had not moved.
Not an inch.
Blinking multiple times, I purposely switched positions in my chair and winced as pain enveloped me and the energy required to simply do this one task overwhelmed me.
At times, Lyme takes over our bodies. Literally, I believe. All energy is stripped of us and ALL we can do is rest. At least, this is my experience. Rest is required for our bodies to heal from the amazing war that wrestles within, and at times our bodies must send this message to our brains: don’t move a muscle. Rest, rest, rest.
A jam-jam time. A time when pajamas are friends in which our bodies lie and chairs are thrones for hours, days, perhaps weeks at a time.
Thank heavens for an entertainment system on which to focus my attention as my darkened room encourages my body to relax (as if I could do anything else, though).
The feeling of having a body stripped of energy, oxygen and all other functioning systems is uncomfortable, deeply discouraging and can leave one in a state of anxiety. The power to fight these feelings can also be stripped of you, causing this jam-jam time to be a time filled with symptoms that I cannot describe at this time. Other chronic Lyme patients know these symptoms I’m sure.
But I write this to declare these times not as discouraging (though they may be), not as depressing (though they may be), but as JAM-JAM times. So, if you ask what I did the other day and I answer, “I had a jam-jam time,” know now what I mean and smile a little.
Smile because it sounds hip and fresh, word?