Magic in the Misery

On Wednesday, I did a new treatment that my doctor recommended for the next stage of my lyme protocol. 

I’ve been doing an intensive IV regimen, and getting a lot of neck pain in the process. It felt like I wasn’t detoxing fast enough, despite doing coffee enemas, saunas, lots of water, and eating well. I felt like things were getting stuck in my head and neck. I told my doctor, and he recommended something called Neural Therapy, aka “Crown of Thorns.” Oh geez. As soon as I heard that nickname, I had a feeling it was going to be intense. It included doing 20 injections of ‘procaine’, which is said to open up any blockages in the head and lymph system. And oh, boy...OPEN IT UP, IT DID. 

So when I woke up on Thursday morning, I was absolutely miserable. I had the worst headache of my life, extreme pain in my head, my neck hurt, I was dizzy, exhausted, and felt super nauseous. It felt like detox I have gone through before, but times a million. Phew. It was going to be one heck of a day. 

My fiancé Christopher could see the state I was in. I was barely able to drag myself out of bed.  It was 8am, and I was supposed to be at my IV by 9. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. He made me a hot bath with all sorts of herbs, put the diffuser with my fav essential oil on, handed me a hot tea, and packed my car in case I was going (he’s beyond amazing). He also talked with me, and we discussed whether I should go to the IV at all. Would it be worse? Would it make things better? Did I just need to go through the pain and show up anyways? Or would the day be best spent relaxing at home?

With his help, I came to the conclusion that it was right to go. SIGH. It was not what I wanted the answer to be. How badly I wanted to stay home and lay in bed watching an episode of International House Hunters!

But I pulled on my sneakers, and 30 minutes later, I was shuffling into the IV room. Through my detox stupor, I noticed a man that I had just met a few days earlier. 

I had come into the IV room that past Tuesday, and his was a face I hadn’t seen before. I introduced myself and sat down. And when I got hooked up to start my treatment, he asked me what I was doing. I told him. We got to chatting. He was shy and charismatic. He opened up, and told me that he had cancer. At one point, he started saying how much his illness had forced him to slow down and be more in the moment with his wife, his daughter, his grandchildren. And suddenly, tears were streaming down his face. He immediately apologized. “Sorry, SORRY...I didn’t mean to cry.” I told him there was nothing to apologize for. And thanked him for sharing his story with me. And that it must be really hard what he was going through. He appreciated the connection, but I could tell he was still embarrassed. 

When I shuffled back in this Thursday morning in hardcore detox mode, it was nice to see a friendly face. I weakly waved at him before sitting down. The nurse prepared all my stuff on her silver tray, and then poked me with the huge ass IV needle. I was feeling absolutely awful, the bright lights were killing my eyes, I could barely see, I was frustrated, tired, and feeling incredibly vulnerable. And the pain of the needle was the straw that broke this camel’s back. And suddenly, tears streamed down my face.

I turned to the man and said: “Now I’M the one crying.” And smiled at him. His face lit up. And he flashed a huge smile back. Then the woman in the chair to the left of me said “Oh my gosh! I cried last week TOO!” We laughed and connected and it brought us all relief to feel that unity. Because I was willing to listen to my senses and do what felt right...I came to the IV room that day, and we got to experience that grace together.

“We’re never alone, huh?” I said. “It’s true” they replied. They thanked me. And then, the room went silent. 

It was a palpable moment of magic in the misery.