This past week,
I had a curious incident happen to me. It reminded me of the way I think about my approach towards my chronic Lyme treatments and goals toward healing.
LET ME FIRST WARN YOU…
this story is long, so if you are a wuss, stop reading now. (The maturity you will gain after reading this is immense, but whatever; go back to Facebook and look at youtube.com videos). 🙂
As I finished an intense detox session one late afternoon, the complete physical and mental exhaustion that these sessions often cause overwhelmed my body. Knowing my desperately aching muscles needed to relax, I decided a hot shower would be wonderfully healing and started the water. As I gathered my towel and clothes I opened the shower door to check the degree of the water. As I did so, I glanced down and saw that the water was draining extremely slow and after just a few minutes of the water being on, there was a half-inch pool surrounding the shower floor.
I immediately turned off the water and crawled into the shower, reaching the drain with half of me in the half-inch of water and half of me on the cold hard bathroom floor.
My shampoo cap was the culprit! I had taken off the cap of my new shampoo bottle to put a pumper in it instead, and had forgotten to remove the cap from the shower. It had fallen into the drain and wouldn’t you know, it was the absolute perfect size to nearly clog the drain completely.
Exhausted as I was, I decided that this would not do especially since I dearly wanted that hot shower. Plus, I’m stubborn! I get things done, I kick butt, I work hard to let my body heal. Which came first: stubbornness or stupidity in this case?
And thus began my hour-long fight to unclog the drain.
I tried everything: fast-drying glue attached to both a q-tip and the cap, learning quickly that fast-drying glue does not dry in a completely wet and slippery environment. I tried just q-tips, an eyebrow plucker, a paper device of my own making that was supposed to pluck the cap from the drain, hair clips…all the while, stretched into an extremely uncomfortable and strained position while feeling the coldness of the evening seep into the shower and into my muscles. Finally, after an hour of this madness, my dear mother suggested a vacuum cleaner hose that would have enough power to suck the cap from the drain.
I skipped the hot shower. After spending another fifteen minted cleaning up, I dropped into a recliner, surrounded myself with heating pads and plenty of blankets and I tried to calm my body down. It was over two hours past my regular bedtime by now.
Sometimes, when healing seems hopeless, I push my body to do detox routines that take every little ounce of energy from me and leave me only with my determination to get better, and get better NOW!
Pushing my body to do more and more no matter the intense pain that inhibits my every fiber, I ignored the idea that this approach could, at times, be more harmful than effective. I often proudly tell people I am very stubborn and will kick my own a** for as long as it takes until my chronic Lyme disease goes into remission; but those days where I push my body far, far beyond its ability is STUPID and the screaming pain in every ounce of my being shouts, “QUIT IT, YOU IDIOT!”
The shower could have been unplugged the next morning; there was no reason to push myself so far to get that cap out. But I proudly felt that my stubbornness allowed me a hero status for “pushing through the pain.”
OH FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE. I’VE BEEN TRYING TO HEAL MY BODY FOR 13 YEARS; I KNOW BETTER.
It’s stupid. However I must defend myself on this point: continually pushing my body beyond its capacity is, to be completely fair, sometimes required because I have no control over the limits of my body and MUST cross them at times to attempt to heal.
Sometimes, I’m stubborn in this account and will go to great lengths to do everything and more to heal, knowing that thirteen years of chronic Lyme often take years of extreme protocols and intense detox programs in order to push the Lyme into recession.
But you will be glad to hear that my shower is cap-free. That, OBVIOUSLY, falls into the stupidity bracket considering the muscle and joint pain I received for my efforts and the loss of several hours of sleep.