I have Lyme. I’d like to not have it anymore. I also just want cake.
Because my Dad is so awesome and worked all by himself to update the house where I spent my youth, in the land Bountiful, Clarkston, Michigan, to sell it to, in part, help pay for my outrageous medical expenses, we did what we could to surprise him with tickets to General Conference, knowing he would be staying with us during October. Wow, that is a long sentence with a lot of commas. I hope you got through it okay.
First of all, Dad was tickled beyond tickled when we handed over three tickets to him before dinner the night we arrived back from my doctor’s appointment in DC. It made me happy to see him happy. Second of all, I had to wake up at 5:30 am to complete my back to back infusions of Meropenem and Cipro in order to make it to our seats at the conference center before 9:30 am. I think it was the most productive I’ve ever been during an infusion. Normally I lay dying on the couch. This time I managed to curl my hair, put on some makeup, dress myself (basically turn into something capable of being viewed as a human being in public), and eat enough breakfast to put back all my morning pills and keep them down. It is my firm belief that I was blessed with super powers that morning. Then I swallowed enough Ativan and anti-naseau pills to tranquilize a medium-sized farm animal and off we were.
The amount with which I looked drugged is too high. But to be serious, the choir blew me away and brought me to tears. The talks were wonderful, I am sure… my intake of pills in my efforts to keep my Lyme-crazy body under control enough to handle the event slowly took from me my consciousness two talks in. I eventually woke up on D’s shoulder in time to see two President Monsons giving a closing talk (double vision, if you were wondering). To summarize this already very short conference session story, I spent hours preparing for a nice nap in the conference center surrounded by all of the saints and prophets.
Afterwards we walked out (me, a little crooked) and I insisted on a picture of myself and D at the waterfall. People were staring. D was not happy about it. But his sweet soul gave me a picture anyways, and with a smile at that. I, on the other hand, just look lost.
The important thing is, Dad had a wonderful time and took many pictures and I was very happy to have been able to share that experience with him as neither of us had ever been able to go before. He has checked that off his bucket list and I will always have faint memories of distant choirs singing me to sleep in a fluffy cloud of Ativan.
It was wonderful.