The wedding I went to on Sunday took place under a large L-shaped tent in a sloped upstate New York backyard. Rain poured down audibly and consistently all day. Everyone looked a little washed out, and the curly hair on many heads (including mine) was extra frizzy. The grass was wet under the tent. I had on a semi-formal dress, but never changed out of my Tevas.
This was my day out with my friend Margaux, a poet and performance artist whom I’ve known for over 25 years. Back then, our artwork came into being during Girl Scout meetings, usually involving too much glue or sparkles. We haven’t been dancing together in almost a decade, owing first to my overwork patterns back when I was an activist, and later to my disability. This was our chance to spend the day out, a big change from most of her visits in recent years when I was plastered to the couch, and to dance a little during the daytime when I’m able to be upright.
The wedding ceremony was a modern Jewish one, under a huppah, partly in English, partly in Hebrew. The language was beautiful. The couple was clearly a real partnership, in evidence that day and in the stories people told during the toasts. Mostly it was a secular party, with one Klezmer song after the traditional American dances between the bride and groom, then the bride and her father. That was the first bit I danced. In fact, when the big circle dance started to break down as the bridal party formed a smaller circle in the middle, I got the outer circle moving again. It’s easier for me to walk (or dance) than it is to stand still for any length of time. If I’m out, I’d like to be having fun.
Margaux and I made a pact to talk to some new people. We ended up talking to two couples who had children with them at the wedding. Both seemed to relish parenthood and take joy in interacting with their children. I sat down at a table or two near the dance floor, each time I got too tired to stand. When people asked if I was a friend of the bride or the groom, I would say, I haven’t met them. After letting the information register in the other guests’ faces, I would say I was the “plus one” of a friend of the bride. I didn’t realize it would be so funny. In response, people were eager to tell me what they loved about the person in the couple whom they knew.
We sat at a table with 8 people from New Jersey. They were bemoaning the fact that pop culture has been pretty down on Jersey and on Italians, with the two hugely popular tv shows, The Sopranos and Jersey Shore, neither of which I’ve ever seen. In the grand scheme of things, it was pretty interesting conversation for strangers who meet at weddings.
My favorite toast was from the father of the groom, which he delivered while choking down his tears.
I have a wonderful family. I have a son and daughter who I love. My wife is my partner, the base of my life. I’m very happy. I’m lucky to have them. That is all I can wish for you, Will.
I never spoke to Will. I did meet Audrey, the bride, on the dance floor. She remembered my name and thanked me for dancing. I told her that’s what I came for…and that I wished her a happy marriage. I certainly didn’t come for the food. It looked and smelled very appealing, but I couldn’t eat anything other than shrimp with no sauce. That’s life as a “plus one” with food allergies.
Margaux and I got to dance a little. It wasn’t much. Just about what I could handle. And we had a blast. We danced like people who have a long history and are comfortable hanging out to a rhythm. We went to junior high and high school dances together, usually as part of a group of people who didn’t care if they had dates. We’ve gone dancing a few times as adults. On Sunday, dancing with Margaux, I felt like I got to be me again. The me of the decades before Lyme and hopefully of the decades to come.
In the car there and back, I got to catch up with Margaux about our lives these days. The day as a whole, however, was a way for me to catch up with my hopes for myself and to relish a lifelong friendship.
I spaced out and forgot to coil early in the day. So I had to make due with one session in which I tried not to burn out the coil. There was no legitimate reason for coiling less than usual.
- Babesia, liver, 5 minutes; chest, 5 minutes
- Candida, abdomen, 10 minutes
It was cold this morning, so I got out the BioMat. What a relief. Not only did I warm up, but I had a good sweat, too.
- skin brushing
- lemon water
- BioMat (90 minutes, level 3)
I’m pretty wiped out. I slept through the night with no sweats, but it took a long time to fall asleep. When I got into bed last night, my sacrum had pain radiating out of it down my right leg. The muscles surrounding my lumbar spine were in spasm. So I went to my couch/daybed, which is firmer than my bed, and did some yoga poses (half saddle) that relax my lower spine. They helped, but it took over a half hour of stretching to get the pain to a manageable level.
Today, I’ve had continued lower back pain. Along with the general irritation in my lower core, I’ve had serious urinary hesitation, and diarrhea on and off all day. My hypothesis is that the homeopathic remedy is doing it’s next stage of clearing out debris.
Over the past week of loose stools and diarrhea, I think I’ve lost weight. My spine bones feel tender, like they’re poking through the skin. (I’ve been calling myself a stegosaurus.)
I’m dealing with a lot of headaches and light sensitivity. I almost couldn’t handle the natural light in my apartment today. I’ve been trying to figure out when this last happened. I think it was when I was on Rocephin and the year before that on Minocin. Both of those cross the blood brain barrier and kill Lyme bacteria in the cerebrospinal fluid. This summer I’ve been getting these migraine-like headaches since I reached 5 minutes of coiling on my spine. I wonder if this is causal or coincidental.
Other random symptoms today: hoarse voice this morning, itchy eyes tonight, itchy rash on my sternum, muscle pain in my arms (appropriate to the poses I did in yoga yesterday).