.326 | to Jamie Picker, from Jake Picker

In August of 2018, I came down with a mysterious illness. It started with excruciating and debilitating foot pain. I could not be on my feet for more than 15 minutes in an entire day and I had to crawl around my apartment until my mom, Jamie, could come move me back home to take care of me full-time.

As my illness progressed, the pain spread all over my body. I had pain anywhere there was pressure or in any muscles I used, which rendered me unable to sit in a chair more than 30 minutes and I could not use my phone or computer.

My mom is a therapist and her friend, who is also a therapist, had a patient who was mysteriously ill for 30 years and finally got proper diagnosis and treatment from a local doctor. I ended up seeing this doctor and finally got a proper diagnosis of bartonellosis and mast cell activation syndrome. I am coming up on my third year of being disabled but I am slowly making my way towards regaining my health.

This illness has been excruciatingly painful both physically and emotionally. I, quite literally, would have died if it were not for the help of my mom. She makes and brings me every meal. She schedules all of my doctor’s appointments. She has washed my hair when I have had too much pain to do it myself. She drove us across the country from San Diego, CA to Bethesda, MD to see a specialist because I had too much pain to fly. It was a 16 day round trip. Each day she drove 8 hours and spent an hour loading the car and an hour unloading the car. She lugged an instant pot, coolers, and ice across the country and back again because many of my meals have to be cooked fresh due to my food sensitivities.

I always tell others with bartonellosis that hope is the most important ingredient and I believe this to be true. However, I have lost hope more times than I can count over these past three years. Whenever I tell her I don’t have any hope, she says “I have enough hope for the two of us.” Those nine words are what keep me fighting. The only reason I haven’t given up is because she hasn’t. She is willing to do anything to get me better. Well, almost anything. She might rob a bank but I don’t think she would do anything violent. Luckily, doing something violent wouldn’t make me any better.

Before this illness, my mom was my everything. We really didn’t need this experience to make us any closer and I didn’t need this experience to be any more grateful for her! I don’t believe everything happens for a reason (but it’s okay if anyone else does!) I’ve always been grateful for her and I think she knows this.

During the beginning of the pandemic, one of the beauty YouTubers I follow said that she read that when you feel scared, you can try to focus on what you’re grateful for. I’ve felt so scared these past three years. I feel scared today as I write this. So, I will focus on feeling grateful for my mom to combat the fear.

I am looking forward to feeling well and getting to do all the fun things we used to do together like traveling, skiing, and eating bougie dinner. And you can be damn sure I will be grateful then too!