My favorite! I didn’t think anyone noticed this particularly delightful symptom, but they do. It’s when you feel pretty good—you’re shopping for furniture or at a concert at Red Rocks, or just playing pickleball when WHAM! Deflate. I’ve been thinking about exactly what happens, and how perceptive people can notice so quickly. I’m a fairly high energy person, sometimes hyper, even (feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, friends), so when I am quiet and still, it isn’t normal. The Lyme deflation is swift and complete, reducing me to a zombie-like trance. In the space of less than fifteen minutes I can go from peppy and happy to paper-doll flat (I really should insert a Tom Brady reference to Deflategate here, but I can’t think of one. Feel free. Really.).
Today I deflated an hour into playing pickleball. I have had a lot of bad days lately, not sure why, but am I ever sure why? The symptoms have all risen to above my neck. I still have liver pain, kidney pain, joint pain and fatigue, but those are all intermittent and no big deal. It’s the brain/eyes/teeth trifecta that make me miserable. For the past three or four weeks, my eyes have been wonky. My left eye has this giant grey floater that swings from side to side, daring me to shift my eyes from side to side, like I’m watching a bizarre tennis match inside my eye. It drives me crazy. I’ve had eye problems since the beginning of Lyme. Itching, burning, an eyeball ache, floaters, blurry spots, ghosting in my peripheral vision, and now this big grey glob in my eye.
I was playing okay, I was in a bitchy mood, which is not uncommon. I had energy and made most of my shots. About an hour in, my eyes acted up. I rubbed them and they teared and burned and that damn glob swung back and forth, distracting me from the ball. Within minutes my head pounded and my energy dissipated. A fullblown deflation. Two of the three players I was with stopped and asked if I was okay. Wow. I didn’t think I looked different when I deflated. As I left the court (after losing, goddammit!), I said I wasn’t feeling too well. They said they noticed. Others noticed when I gathered my things and walked out.
Why am I unaware of my own deflation? I mean, it’s happening to me, you’d think I’d notice. Perhaps all my energy goes into maintaining my composure while out in public. If I’m home and I deflate, I can collapse on the sofa or in bed and not worry. If I’m out doing something, it’s different. The energy it takes to simply walk or speak is almost out of my reach. I’ve been thinking about when I see this kind of collapse in others. A small child deflates naturally, several times a day, either into sleep, or a tantrum, or more often than not, a stupor. Maybe that’s what people see happening to me. I can stupor with the best of them!
The silver lining is I’m not super aware of my collapse. I can acknowledge my decline and be aware that I have to get home. Other than that, my ability to respond to other people is pretty much gone. I think because I am usually gregarious and very tuned in to the moment I might get a bit of a pass from most of my friends. At least that’s what I hope.
I made it home, and now I am dressed in my favorite sloppy outfit, ensconced in my magic blue writing chair and high as a kite. Medicinal marijuana is a gift from nature. Don’t knock it until you’ve had Lyme. I hope this particular deflation doesn’t last too long. Hey, another silver lining: this may be the first time I have stayed coherent during my collapse! If you are my friend, don’t correct me on this one, please.