Freed, at last, from Lyme's cruel grip

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Cape Cod Times

Freed, at least, from Lyme's cruel grip

My View: reader commentary

By CYNTHIA NEIL

I never actually saw the tick.

As I was running through the airport in Manchester, N.H., on Dec. 9,

2000, I felt a spider of chest pain like I had never known. My

reaction was to tell God, " If this is a heart attack you had better

knock me down, because my kids are going to Disney World. " No one

knocked me down. So I forgot about it.

Jan. 11, 2001, we took my daughter for a birthday

adventure to the Liberty Science Center. Within an hour and

a half I was too tired to do any more, even though I'm the

one who loves this stuff. I cried all the way home. Six

days later my family went away for the weekend to give me

some peace.

I went from my bed to the couch, and in three days I never got out

of my bathrobe. " It's the flu, " I told myself.

By April I was limping from an unaccustomed pain in my hip joint; by

June, although it came and went, it was in both hip joints. " I must

be getting old. "

September came and I was living in a mill town in northern

New Hampshire, a cold, depressing place. I got my kids to their

school, and found myself feeling suicidal for the first time since

high school. Some days it was all I could do to get them to school

and get home so I could sleep all day.

On my first trip to the doctor, I was concerned about a weird merry-

go-rounding kind of joint pain - one minute it was my knee, the next

minute my hip and around and around we'd go. And this

UNcharacteristic depression.

" You may be starting to have some arthritis, and you are under a lot

of stress at home - that's all. Get some exercise and fresh air. "

Thank you, doctor.

I came to the Cape in February 2002. It was like coming

home to my childhood at the Jersey shore. Time to get happy.

But I couldn't. In a place that should be heaven, with a happy-go-

lucky spirit, all I could feel was pain and exhaustion. I had gained

60 pounds and it depressed me.

Although I have been a singer all my life and studied yoga for the

past 10 years, I found that I didn't have the breath to sing a long

line of music. Nor did I have the joy to want to. What in the world

was going on? My husband and father told me that's what happens when

you get old.

I am 45.

In May I was looking in the fridge to pull out red peppers for the

salad when my husband asked what I was doing. I told him I was

looking for red parrots. Parrots?

And I found myself walking into rooms and wondering why I was there,

what I was doing there. Every day I required a nap. And there was no

drinking of alcohol, because even one glass of wine caused a

hangover, which began with vomiting.

July 13, 2002, I was depressed and my husband said, " Why don't you

get out of the house for a while? You look so miserable. " For the

second time since this all started, it occurred to me to go to a

doctor's office. I have had a serious mistrust of doctors much of my

adult life. This time I was very lucky.

I started talking about how old I felt, and this wonderful man

looked at me and said, " You're not old, you're sick. You have Lyme

disease. " A friend sent me a list of the symptoms of Lyme, and by

that point I found I had 50 out of around 77 [listed symptoms]. I

was sent to a wonderful doctor who believes Lyme can be cured (many

do not).

On March 28 of this year, I walked out of the house and saw my first

crocus. It was so beautiful it made me laugh. After TWO YEARS OF

ANTIBIOTICS, a year of piano lessons (self-prescribed physical and

mental therapy) and six months of working out three to five days a

week, I have lost 50 pounds and the list of symptoms has fallen from

50 to five. I know the woman looking back at me in the mirror.

I am back. My soul is once again my own.

Neil lives in Centerville.

(Published: April 22, 2005)

Copyright ) 2005 Cape Cod Times.

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