I read about doctors who had been hauled before their state medical boards for prescribing long-term antibiotics, risking suspension of their licenses. Steere, M.D., the physician who first gave the disease its name - and who later received death threats and refused to make public appearances without security guards. The Lyme disease treatment was as perplexing as its cause. I read dozens of personal stories - all with the same theme. Which ones were useful? I had no way to tell. There were scores of “Lyme disease associations” to consult. More than a million results came up, and to my dismay, many of them were in remarkable disagreement about almost everything. The antibiotics cleared the rash immediately. My doctor prescribed four weeks of a powerful antibiotic, doxycycline, and when the symptoms hadn’t completely subsided in that time, an additional two weeks. I had all four of the identifying factors: a verified tick bite, flulike symptoms, a positive blood test, and a bruiselike rash, known medically as erythema migrans, or EM. Soon my doctor was talking with specialists at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) in Atlanta, Georgia. A friend, a nurse, saw the deep blue marks and said, “You have Lyme disease! Get to a doctor right away!” How she knew I have no idea - because they didn’t look like the pictures of the bull’s-eye rash I’d seen in books. Some days later, bruises appeared on my legs, first one and then another, and within another day, my entire body was covered in them. I finally found the strength to call my doctor, who waved away my suggestion that I might have Lyme disease. I put on sweaters and heavy socks and lay down under a pile of blankets. Ten days after getting home, on a very hot day, I felt cold. Like many others who visit New England’s islands, I was bitten by ticks, more than once. Within a month of my return, however, I would begin to learn a bitter lesson - in the history, ethics, and politics of a debilitating disease, and the mystery that has surrounded it for more than 50 years. The island - a glorious, wild place marked by ancient beech forests, kettle ponds, and open grasslands - is also crawling with ticks, which at the time seemed only a minor obstacle to enjoying the abundant gifts it offers. In July 2002, having spent an idyllic week’s vacation on one of the Elizabeth Islands off Cape Cod, I came home to New Hampshire.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |