Lyme Disease: A Right of Passage

As I've mentioned in past columns, I am not a full-timer on the Island, but I do own a small residence in Oak Bluffs, my own little dream-come-true! Over the years, there's been some scary stuff associated with this idyllic island—that is, enough to deter even the most infatuated visitor. 

What am I talking about? Oh, the shark sightings, the tularemia-carrying rabbits, the rampant poison ivy, predicted tsunamis and, worst-of-all, the Lyme-disease-carrying deer ticks! President Obama: Do you really want to come here?

All kidding aside, it was only three years ago that I had my first, and hopefully last, bout with Lyme Disease! Here is my story, which is a little unusual and hopefully may be instructive to others.

First of all, let me say that I never had the tell-tale bulls-eye rash. Not in the traditional sense, at least. What I did have, and this was only remembered in retrospect, was a small area on my hip that was a different color from my skin. It looked a little like cellulitis, except it wasn't tender to the touch or even painful. It looked a little like sunburn, but was in an area that my bathing suit would've covered. Let's just say, I noticed its presence, thought a little about it and then promply ignored it. It was not circular, and had no defined boundaries. But, you guessed it, that was my bullseye!

The time of year was September. We had come to Martha's Vineyard with my son who was conservatory-bound, and as his school didn't start until October, it gave us a chance to vacation a little later in the season. I did at one point do a little gardening, but I had my hair tied up and under a hat, long pants and long sleeves on, and didn't venture into any deep woods, just my own yard. There were no apparent tick bites, no itching or nagging soreness on my body.

Fast forward to October, and the mass move of furniture, suitcases, books etc to mid-town Manhattan. I was particularly excited as we were staying in New York for almost a week and would get to explore the city with my son, prior to his exodus from the nest! I had so many plans! We had booked a nice, historical bed and breakfast in Bedford-Stuyvesant, so that we would be able to park the car on the street and take the Metro back and forth, exploring both Brooklyn and Manhattan. It was pretty hot and the train was a bit stifling but the first day went without a hitch.

By the second day, I was starting to feel a little tired, a little draggy and my neck started aching at the base of my skull and emitting upwards. It was kind of an incessant dull ache.

That evening, our second at the B&B, I started to get a headache, so I took some Tylenol and went to bed early, something totally out of character for me when I am in NYC. By 1 a.m., I awoke with the most agonizing neck and headache that I've ever had. We're talking  holding-my-head-and-rocking-and-saying—"Ow-Ow-Ow" kind of pain. Now, I might mention that I already have Rheumatoid Arthritis. Yup, I got the juvenile form of it when I was 19. I am no stranger to pain, but this was something different.

I told my husband I needed to go to an ER, because I thought I was either having a major arthritis flare-up, or had thrown out my neck somehow. We went to the closest hospital to the B&B, got really lousy service with a long wait time and were sent home with the muscle relaxant Flexeri, and the diagnosis of a "probable pulled muscle".

I spent the next two days, trying to help my son move, popping Flexerils left and right. By day's end I was a very spacy and sleepy sick person, barely able to walk up and down the stairs that led to the subway. I was dragging my body around, and the pain was still there!

That night, another round of an ER occured as I felt, in my gut, that I did not have a pulled muscle—it was something much worse. Again, I went through another "work-up." X-rays this time, with no result. I was almost out of Flexeril and Tylenol and, even worse, was ready to go home. This was totally out of my norm, for not only do I never want to leave New York when I'm there, but I was also OK with leaving my only son, "my baby," behind ahead of time.

The night before we left, I had called my rheumatologist (yes, I have his cell phone—one of the priviledges of being a 25-year patient) and he told me to come home and go to the Boston Medical Center's ER as soon as I got back. Again, in a Boston ER,I was given a non-specific diagnosis, some pain killers and sent on my miserable way.

The turning point came when I again called my rheumatologist (God bless him) insisting that I must be having some neck- and head-specific joint flare, and he fit me into the schedule. As I sat up on the examining table, he went to confer with his associate, a doctor who is incidentally a Lyme Disease expert. He told me to smile. When I did, he noticed that one side of my mouth did not raise up as high as the other. "She might have Lyme Disease," the doctor said. "Why don't you do the titre on her?"

The titre takes a number of days to come back, so as a precaution, they put me on the antibiotic for Lyme Disease and told me they would call me when the result came in. A few days later, the doc called to say I was positive for Lyme! I stayed on the Doxicycline for one month, started feeling better almost immediately and my partial facial paralysis (which was ever so slight in the first place) went away. Follow-up after the month was over deemed me as cured!

So, what is my point? Well, I had no indication of a tick bite, no bulls-eye and did not become sick for over a month. But there was no denying that I was very, very sick! Strangely enough, because I had rheumatoid arthritis, I did not feel the achiness in my joints, because I always have it to some extent.

But there was no denying that headache—almost like a spinal headache, probably like a meningitis headache. I think the exhaustion and fatigue came on first and then the excrutiating pain.

I'm not telling you to be paranoid, but be on the alert for signs and symptoms that may not be on the usual lists issued on the Internet.

I'm also not trying to deter people from coming to the Vineyard, but the statistics show that one in five full-timers and one in 10 seasonal residents have contracted Lyme already. Make sure to cover yourselves with tick repellent and just be aware of your body. I probably should've gone to see the doctor for that strange discoloration of my hip right away, but thought I was being a hypochondriac.

Once you catch Lyme Disease, you can get it again; there is no immunity that results from having had it.

So now, when I come to the Island and walk across tall grass or contemplate a hike on one of the walking paths through the woods, do I pause before doing so? You betcha. Will ticks deter me from coming to Martha's Vineyard or even sell my precious house? No way! This island is too beautiful, serene and nurturing to ever part with it! Ticks be damned!