I made Vietnamese Pho!

(And those are my favorite socks in the photo, too. Okay, they are kinda my only socks, hence the favored designation.)

A better and more descriptive update on my life is way overdue, but for now—THIS: I have healed enough of the brain impairment from Lyme disease that I can actually follow an honest-to-god real recipe.

This was impossible before. Totally impossible.

Who knew how much I love to cook, right? Could there actually have been a foodie buried under all that pain? I’m nodding my head with a resounding maybe.

Hmmmm—better yet, yes.

Food is life. Flavor is life. The desire to enjoy food is also the desire to live. And I won’t mention how many people with Lyme commit suicide, because let’s not go there, where it’s howling with darkness.

I can no longer eat at a restaurant, prolly not ever. At best—rarely. So what I make at home with organic whole mostly Paleo foods has to be exciting, and healing, and hopeful, too.

Has to be. Because hope is life driven.

And if you are fighting a disease with no known cure, trying to get to the mythical lands of remission, giving up hope will sink you faster than being swallowed by a sentient black abyss with two red glowing evil eyes. Being hopeless is pretty much being dead already.

At my lowest, toward the end of 2014 when I started treatment and learned what the horror of herxing truly means—when I struggled immensely just to count to three—I’m not kidding—struggled just to try to count my Cowden tincture drops into water to take my dose and not become hopelessly confused by the time I reached THREE drops, and then become further confused to which bottle I had JUST been holding; to now, when I can follow a complex recipe with teaspoons and tablespoons and temperature and succeed with my kitchen tools whisking and measuring and mincing up something quite tasty at the end.

Pho. And a movie.

It was The Impossible, by the way. (With Naomi Watts and Ewan McGregor). Good show and I cried because, holly crap—the hope thing.

Gotta have it.

Still alive. Still fighting. Still slowly improving but sometimes really scared the improvement is not real, or not getting all the infections, or will stop working—will leave me here. Just here and it’s not enough.

Meanwhile—Pho. And banana pancakes. And Mongolian Beef, homemade red sauce, Szechuan Beef, Chia Chocolate Pudding, chili and cornbread, gluten-free pizza, Kahlua Pork, Chicken Tikka Masala, and red wine. Yes. I did. Happiness.

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