Someone special took me on a drive along the Chesapeake Bay in southern Maryland the other day, and we discovered a cozy place serving up key lime pie made from the tried-and-true recipe of the previous owner. The minute I saw the sign advertising pie in front of the old house-turned-coffee house, I knew I had to have some.
Sitting in the warm, inviting front room and savoring every bite of tart, creamy deliciousness and crumbly graham cracker crust was the perfect celebration of my first day without Lyme symptoms in five months.
It felt surreal knowing that I felt every bit as good as the other people chatting and laughing and enjoying themselves on a sunny winter afternoon.
The only time the “other” Lyme came up all day was on a short walk where I rejected the trail as possible tick habitat. Well, and when I swallowed my pills.
Still, it was a banner day.
Twenty-four hours later, pain and fatigue had returned, triggered by the activity of my day out and about. But that one good day gave me a surge of hope that recovery is possible after all. With the tough December I’d endured, I’d been wondering about that.
My friend said, “We definitely need more key lime pie days—when that’s the only kind of lime we think about.”
I’m all for that.