These are personal reflections and personal resources. Nothing here is medical advice, a diagnosis, or a recommendation from any medical organization.
A note from Terry
Living with neurologic Lyme disease means learning to read a body that rarely explains itself clearly. Symptoms can shift hour to hour — seizures, brain fog, fatigue, and sensory changes often arriving without warning or pattern. A resource page like this one exists because searching alone can feel overwhelming, and because shared experience offers language for what the medical terms cannot fully capture. Terry Mayfield's reflections gather personal observations rather than clinical authority, offering companionship to readers who recognize the same unpredictable symptoms in their own lives.
Terry's writing emphasizes honesty about the middle, in-between stretches of chronic illness — the ordinary days when improvement is imperceptible and setbacks arrive quietly. The journal-style posts span seasons and years, tracing uncertainty, grief, small victories, and hard-won hope. Because the audience includes people newly identifying their symptoms, the pieces are written plainly and without jargon, making them accessible to someone in the earliest, most confusing stage of searching for answers.
Beyond personal narrative, the site points readers toward external resources and further reading on Lyme disease, treatment options, and living with invisible illness. Terry's perspective stays careful and non-prescriptive, acknowledging that each person's path differs and that the journey unfolds differently for everyone. The emphasis remains on encouragement, resilience, and acceptance — small reminders that a person living with a complex chronic condition can still build a meaningful, joyful life.
The tone across these pages balances realism with warmth. Terry writes with sarcasm, humor, faith, and gratitude woven into harder reflections, because sustaining optimism requires more than positive thinking alone. Readers are invited to read slowly, to linger over a paragraph that resonates, and to recognize themselves in descriptions of difficult days and ordinary ones alike. In that way the archive becomes a companion: a quiet place to feel understood, to compare notes, and to keep moving forward.
