Today, the same friend drove me home from the hospital. Her baby is a year old. Jen is still/again pregnant, and I still have Lyme disease.
Funny how other people's lives change and ours stay frighteningly the same.
I was in the hospital this morning to have a picc line put in my arm. For the medically blissfully ignorant, that's a small tube that runs up a vein in my arm, ending just above my heart. It allows me to do daily IV infusions of a drug that, a little over a year ago, had me thinking I'd kicked this Lyme thing once and for all. A few days after my insurance-mandated stopping of it, symptoms began to creep back, a process that would continue through many other attempted treatments.
So, it's a good thing that I have this back, sort of. And a sign that, a year later, maybe we're not in exactly the same place.
Here's my wish for a year from today: Nobody driving anyone home from a hospital, Jen not pregnant, no more Lyme. We will be exhausted from caring for a four-month-old. And we will be happy.