Friend, I’m really happy that you’ve found the magical cure to all illness, and it consists of a celery juice fast while plunging yourself into ice every morning and finally breathing like a real man. Yes, I’m probably not walking barefoot in virgin sand enough and maybe my shilajit is from the wrong side of the Himalayas. And no, I won’t forget what your cousin Jim learned on his last kombucha cleanse, and how I’ll probably learn the same thing, if I make sure to get the right flavor.
I know you think that if I, too, consume acerola-spiked gummy bears before my meals and listen to music only in the 532 megahertz frequency while chanting the original name of God, a prompt and total healing is in order. I do understand that it shortened your cold by two days and improved your dogs hearing within a week. I understand that if I only believed it with enough conviction, it would work for me.
You see, I’m not ignoring your advice because it’s ridiculous to compare your occasional experience of brain fog to my life threatening illness. Nor am I insulted by you thinking that what you learned from that 60 second soundbite on Lyme disease qualifies you to think you now have the answer to this layered, complex illness that I’ve been researching full time for two years now. It’s not any of those reasons that cause me to snicker inside from your well meaning advice. It’s because I tried all that already.
So for now, though it might not make any sense, I’m only taking health advice from my sickest friends. No, not the ones whose occasional tummy aches really cramp their hot yoga practice. But the ones who understand that even determination and fierce grit and critical thinking skills and open mindedness and endless research and good vibes and clean karma and the smartest freest-rangiest supplements aren’t always enough because if so, we would’ve kicked this shit by now.
If you’ve stared down a life threatening illness this wicked, and won, or are fighting with me, bring on the platypus elixir. I’m all ears. If instead you cured your athletes foot with high dose intranasal vitamin K and you intuitively know it’ll work for me too, do us both a favor and just tell me you’re thinking of me.
And one more thing: there’s no ”S" in Lyme.