I move the phone from the kitchen to the dining room table and only when I notice it there much later do I recall that I had intended to make a call. I find a paper on which I wrote that my son's tutor is coming today at 2:45; I had completely forgotten and hadn't told anyone.
This is just one afternoon.
I let filtered water flow into the pitcher while I set the table and pull food out of the microwave. And I forget the water flowing into the pitcher until it's pooling up on the counter.
This happens three days in a row. Really?
This is so not like me. No, it's not me at all.
I'm not claiming that some alien has taken over my body. But this doesn't feel like my competent self. Which kinda shakes me up a bit. I'm a responsible, more-than-competent person and I'm letting a lot slide.
I used to be able to super multi-task. I was the one who fast-walked two babies in a double jogging stroller, with an 80 pound German Shepherd on the leash beside me and my cell phone to my ear. While doing a crossword puzzle in pen! (Just kidding about the crossword puzzle.)
Is this a facet of Lyme Disease? My symptoms are very subtle. And I'm grateful for that--I don't have crippling joint pain. But what about my mind? Is there a shadow slowly moving in? A Voldemort-type dark cloud?
Could Samento stir up biofilms of borrellia? Was I like this before I began Lyme treatment-and if so, for how long? Why didn't anyone notice?
Then, again, maybe the stress of saving a child with PANDAS/PANS and Lyme finally got to me.
My brain is just not right. Who are you, brain? And what have you done with my real brain?
My 12-year old son must feel this way, and perhaps to a much worse extent. He has visual-spatial issues because of Lyme. He has focusing and attention issues. But he's a super bright kid (just read his blog!) It's frustrating.
I'm not drop-dead gorgeous or model-skinny. I can't dance professionally or win a tennis match but I can sing, teach, write, and mother. My identity is wrapped up in being intelligent and creative. I'm still creative but I haven't energy for big projects. My novel is totally on-hold. I'm smart but I feel like my IQ is dipping daily. I'm getting ditzy. Spilling water on the table. Forgetting why I walk into a room. I feel lazy.
My husband and I just watched The Bourne Legacy. (SPOILER ALERT!) The main character takes pills to enhance his intelligence. In that unfinished novel I started twelve years ago, I wrote about memory and skill-enhancing pills. Gosh. I think I might be the one who needs 'em.
Maybe it's herxing. Maybe it's because I am of a "certain" age.
I am different from me. I reside in my brain a lot. And I'm not liking this one bit.
My next appointment with my LLMD is in a couple of weeks and I'll ask about this. I think what bothers me most is the insidiousness of this brain-draining calamity. Maybe it's been sneaking up on me for years! I'm still very capable. No one would look at me and see a different person. It's all in my mind.
Or maybe it is all in my mind.