Know the Facts on the Prevention and Treatment of Lyme Disease
To those of you who are kind enough to visit this site on a regular basis, my sincere apology for the extended absence. I was, from Thanksgiving until just a few days ago, in pretty rough shape, suffering from a rheumatoid flare-up that is part of the consequences (at least for some) of having contracted Lyme Disease before modern science had a clue as to what it was.
I photographed axis deer on a Hill Country ranch in spring of 1981 … or, I should say, attempted to photograph axis deer … particularly one gargantuan 33-incher that, with every foot I gained via belly-crawling on the coastal Bermuda, simply moved another foot away.
The chasing game lasted about two hours, and I never got closer than 200 yards to that wizened old buck. However, when the ranch manager came to pick me up you’d have thought, based on his level of excitement, that I had just photographed the world-record gold-medal axis buck of all axis bucks.
He yelled one word as he stepped outside of his pickup.
“Ticks!” he hollered. “Deer ticks. This pasture is loaded with them. We’d better check you out.”
We thought we had found and removed them all. Nonetheless, before taking a shower that night, I found a small deer tick on my waistline that had bored into my skin like a starving oyster drill.
I took about two weeks for the target-like sequence of rings to appear on my neck. Right there, at the left-side base, was indeed a clearly defined rash that looked like a rifle target, complete with a distinct bulls-eye. Doctor Number One looked at it, considered the fact that I could not turn my head without severe pain, factored in my 104-degree fever and concluded that I had spinal meningitis.
The fatal kind. The kind that clocks you out inside of a month.
“Best get your affairs in order,” he advised.
Obviously, he was wrong. Otherwise, instead of writing this, the only thing left of Yours Truly would be miniscule traces of ashes dispensed near my favorite farm pond on the family place in the Post Oak Savannah of Lavaca County.
Years later I learned that if the doctors I saw afterward had known and understood Lyme Disease, a week-long regimen of IV-administered tetracycline would have made the problem disappear, and stay gone forever. No such luck (again, a little over 25 years ago, when that tick stuck it to me, Lyme Disease was a little-known ailment still thought to be endemic only to states in the far Northeastern United States. Opinions vary, but many seem to believe that the ailment has its roots in the woods of Pennsylvania).
Importing deer from those parts, including “exotics” like that big axis buck, expanded the infected insects’ range to the Lone Star State.
I was spared the long-term and irreversible heart damage some Lyme victims face, but I drew the full brunt of the other common post-ailment ramification … joint swelling and pain.
The doctor, working with what knowledge existed at the time, diagnosed me with “The damndest case of ‘I don’t know’ I have ever seen.” Official diagnosis? Viralmeningoencephalitis … a collective description of the symptoms.
It’s come back to haunt me with three major episodes in the past quarter-century-plus. It’s usually announced by a rash and immediately followed by egg-frying fevers. The last serious episode, in August of 1995, kept me in Clear Lake Regional Hospital for a week, hooked up to a mixture of saline solution and IV painkillers. According to antibody tests, that particular episode was a case of Rocky Mountain spotted fever. Even among the best of doctors, confusion regarding tick-related diseases still remains prevalent.
No matter the cause, when your fever hits 104.5, you do get a bit disoriented. However, I know a priest reading the last rites when I hear it, and I assure you, if ever I had motivation to get better (and do some praying of my own), that was it.
I came out of it weakened but on the rebound, and since that episode have had a few close calls. November and December of ’07 were razor-close. I contemplated calling an ambulance (a move my wife, Liz, wanted to make), but I opted to push fluids and ride it out. And I did it, too, although it might have been easier to “ride out” a manic-depressive, crack-addicted Brahma bull.
“That which does not kill you makes you stronger,” we are told. By that measure, I ought to be able to deadlift Hulk Hogan with my pinkie finger.
All this said, this missive isn’t nearly so much about me as it is you. Odds are if you are reading this, you are an outdoorsman. As such, assuming you spent any significant amount of time in the woods, your odds of encountering ticks are pretty close to 100 percent. (Strangely enough, I have fire ants to thank for the absence of both chiggers, and to a large degree, ticks in recent years. Fire ants are nasty creatures, but at least they bite you and leave you to deal with wounds that will heal.)
Moral to the story? If you are heading out in the field, especially in an area where tick populations are prone to be dense, go prepared. Some folks cannot tolerate DEET, the primary active ingredient in many popular insect repellents. If you are one of them, use an alternative. Dress in long pants, and if possible, cinch them at the bottom of the legs (for some, heavy-duty rubber bands do the job as well as anything). It will not keep hungry ticks from attaching themselves to you, but it will deter them a bit.
Check yourself for ticks upon getting back to camp, and learn how to remove them (essentially, not leaving the insect’s head embedded in your skin).
For much more information on tick-borne diseases (and inexpensive tick-removal kits and more) check out the LDF … the Lyme Disease Foundation, Inc. You will find the nonprofit organization on the web at www.lyme.org.
Read this site, and above all, at the first indication of symptoms … among them, fever, neck stiffness and a localized rash … immediately go to your doctor. And I do mean immediately. Promptly-administered antibiotics can kill the Lyme bacteria, so don’t waste a second if you are the least bit suspicious that you have been infected.
I’m not one who dwells on ailments, or for that matter, likes to share ailment-related details with anyone outside of close friends and family. But if this brief warning serves to motivate at least one person to take precautions, and if needed, get treatment, this is one time I’ll gladly get outside of that comfort zone.
Best to all …
Larry
Howdy. I am 
