Edda has Lyme. We saw this bug bite about a week ago and it’s morphed into the “classic, textbook” (<- doctor-quote) bullseye rash. No need to do any bloodwork, the bullseye is good enough to make the diagnosis. (I might have to take a photo of that <- doctor quote #2 (because it’s so “classic, textbook”)) I was assured that a three week course of antibiotics should clear it right up, but I must admit I cried about this last night before I saw the doctor today. Just the thought of chronic Lyme piled on top of Rett Syndrome was just momentarily too much for me. Why Edda (really, why me?)? I ask the universe. Of course, the universe replies in a calm voice, why not? I got the $5.25 dollar antibiotic prescription, gave the first dose and hopefully in three weeks, I can forget about the stupid tick I never saw.
Anyways, in the middle of my little meltdown last night, I really, really wanted a cookie. One of those oversized, undercooked gourmet cookies that one finds in overpriced bakeries. (There is a good reason I make every effort to not have cookies in the house.) Jeremy, the kindest of the kind, was at a meeting today which had the precise cookies I had wanted last night and got a bunch of extras which did not go the hips of his co-workers, rather he brought them home to me and my own hips and they were even more delicious than I imagined because not only were they the exact cookie that I had wanted the night before during my moment of crisis, but they were FREE which made them infinitely more tasty in my own worried mind.
Mom, Dad, do not call and wake me up. We can talk later. Everything is FINE.