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People often ask me how I can travel with Lyme. I’m not sure that I can. I just do, and then leave the degree of my can with God. Sometimes miracles happen.
Like last Friday, when I was waiting for a bus bound south for Golfito and two sets of hands jumped in to help me haul my two suitcases onto a dilapidated chicken bus. I had expected a luxury bus with stowage below but this was an old school bus with too many steps and a driver who stopped only for a split second to let me hop aboard. Thank God for the chivalry of men in this country, as countless hands have helped me lift my supplement-laden suitcases onto taxis, buses and up hotel stairs. And it’s only been a week. I couldn’t do it alone. Once a Flight Attendant and able to haul my bags into an overhead bin, I now struggle to lift a piece of luggage two inches off the ground.
So am I enjoying myself here in Costa Rica? I wouldn’t say yes, not yet anyway. I still have Lyme and lugging my limbs about a foreign country is no fourth of July fiesta. But Praise God, the monotony of my housebound life has been broken, as I am steeped in another kind of cultural tea.
No, I wouldn’t call traveling with Lyme fun, especially if you are like me and your back aches just carrying around a backpack with nothing more than your passport and liter of water inside, and you struggle to find a restaurant that actually serves green things for dinner.
But I’m not here on vacation anyway. If I were, I’d be engaging in tourist-like activities; swimming, hiking and drinking beer with friends. None of which I have energy or money for. Don’t whip out some cheese to go with my whine here–I’m quite content to be in Costa Rica for what it is I came here for; perspective and possible healing in a climate and culture that contrasts with my own. And I need to be able to pull that Disabled sticker off my forehead. I need to know that I can still do that which I love most, even with Lyme.