Something was wrong with my husband (no need for sarcastic comment).
Almost a month ago he started coming home from work complaining of a splitting headache. He’d squint through dinner, barely making conversation, and I offered to clean up the dinner plates most nights so that he could go rest in our darkened bedroom.
One night he scared me. I went in to the room to say goodnight before heading downstairs to my usual nightcap of bad reality TV, and I saw him sitting on our bed quietly. I kissed him on the top of his head, and this man who is usually so affectionate barely acknowledged my gesture.
“Have you considered this might be Lyme Disease?” I asked after a regular family dinner when I had thought, “he looks ten years older“.
But, with no bullseye, we were both skeptical. The only reason I had mentioned Lyme was because I had recently read Sarah from In The Trenches of Mommyhood’s post. Her son’s Lyme diagnosis came after her mother’s intuition told her that his low-grade fever and out-of-character quietness weren’t “just a cold”.
Finally, a few days later, I was woken by my husband who told me that he needed to get tested right away. His headache was fading, but there were now red welts across his torso and legs. It didn’t take the lab thirty minutes to confirm that he did have Lyme.
He was lucky. A round of antibiotics beat back the disease, and he is normal again (well. . .).
And I now know that there is more to watching for Lyme than just finding a tiny telltale tick or that red bullseye.
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