Echoes by Dana

Unchained. Unmasked. Unfiltered. Unapologetically me.

Author: Echoes by Dana

  • Almost Normal, Whatever That Means

    It’s been almost ten days of good days. Like… good good. The kind of days where my brain remembers it has an “articulate” mode and a “focus” button. Where I wake up and don’t feel like a grand piano fell on me overnight. Where the bed doesn’t hold me hostage with the weight of a thousand invisible elephants.

    Just normal life things, going to work, functioning in society, and taking the sausage dog on long walks even when the universe is throwing wind, rain, and emotional character development my way. It’s so wonderfully… normal. And holy hell, I missed normal.

    Okay, yes, I developed this new fun party trick where my hands turn red and itchy for absolutely no reason. Body, babe, why? But compared to the usual circus of symptoms, that’s basically a spa treatment.

    And the energy… oh, it’s back. My body has hit the “low battery power-saving mode off” switch. I’m planning again,  though slowly. Pacing myself like a responsible adult who has clearly learned from the 47 previous times she overdid it. This feels like the last mile. The home stretch. The finish line is maybe no longer imaginary.

    My antibiotics? Yeah, they’re tired. My cells are tired. My liver is somewhere in a corner sending hate mail. I can feel that this treatment has done what my specialist could do — for now. In three weeks I’ll walk into that doctor’s office with every finger crossed, secretly hoping to hear those sacred words:

    “You can stop now.”

    Imagine: a life where my pharmacy stops greeting me by first name. A life where my body isn’t constantly filing noise complaints. A life with no complaints at all,  or at least not medical ones.

    But of course…the fear sneaks in. What if I stop and everything comes crashing back like last time? What if the bacteria throw a welcome-back party? What if my body goes, “Surprise! Plot twist!”

    Then again… what if I get better?

    What if the symptoms now are just the antibiotics trying to make their final dramatic exit?

    What if stopping is exactly what I need?

    Honestly, I would love a break from meds. A tiny intermission. A moment where my only pills are… I don’t know… vitamins and hope?

    For now, I’m here. Enjoying energy like it’s a Black Friday sale.

    Doing the things I love.

    Walking in the wind with a brave tiny sausage warrior.

    Believing,  cautiously, foolishly, defiantly,  that I’m close.

    That I’m really almost there.

  • A Love Letter to the Rare Good Days

    Yesterday was my birthday.

    I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it,  no party plans, no balloons, no great expectations. Just another day of trying to keep it together while my body does its unpredictable chronic illness thing.

    Still, I decided to take the day off. No work, no guilt. Just a quiet promise to focus on me.

    And that’s when it happened, one of those rare days when the stars finally align, the universe stops ghosting you, and your body decides not to betray you for once.

    Yeah, that happened.

    After two long months of fatigue, pain, and medical-level mood swings, I woke up feeling… human. The kind of energy that makes you believe you could conquer the world, or at least your laundry.

    So, naturally, I decided to conquer the day. And because I’m a visionary, I planned it all around one sacred mission: self-care.

    First stop: the hair salon.

    Now, if you’ve ever tried booking a last-minute salon appointment, you know it’s basically the adult version of winning the lottery.

    First salon: no.

    Second salon: no.

    Third salon: “We can take you right now.”

    Plot twist: it was right next to my house. What a joy!

    Not only did she wash, blow-dry, and trim my undercut perfectly, but she looked at me and said the words every person dreams of hearing:

    “You have such nice hair and colour!”

    And because the universe was clearly in an uncharacteristically generous mood, there was a parking spot right in front of the salon. Not just one — two.

    I even hesitated for a second, thinking, “No way, better park two streets away.”

    But no. The universe said, “Girl, take the win.”

    Back home, hair looking like it belonged in a shampoo commercial, I got flowers and cake. Actual, spontaneous celebration.

    I didn’t even plan to feel good that day, yet there I was, main character energy, fully restored.

    And because I’m an overachiever in joy, I decided to level up: sauna time.

    Normally, finding a parking spot near the sauna is like finding hope during a Herx. But just as I was about to give up, someone walked out,  keys in hand, car leaving.

    Universe: “You’re welcome.”

    Three blissful hours later, I came home glowing, refreshed, ready for Netflix and dinner. No pain, no fatigue, no crash. Just… peace.

    When you live with a chronic illness, days like this feel like divine comedy, the kind where the punchline is joy itself. They remind you what normal life feels like and why you keep pushing through the messy, painful, not-so-pretty ones.

    I hadn’t been looking forward to my birthday.

    But the universe had other plans, an unplanned, unexpected, perfectly timed celebration.

    Thank you, universe. I’ll take the small miracles.

    (But next time, maybe throw in a body that also conquered and overcame Lyme disease too. I know you can, and I can too 🙂)