The rash is about nine inches in diameter on my upper thigh, with a darker red center about the size of a two pound coin. The center is a little firm to the touch, but the rash as a whole is a bit warmer than my surrounding skin. The doctor asked when I first noticed it – about four weeks ago – and asked if I remembered what gave rise to it. I told her I thought it was a spider bite, but I really had no idea what had caused it – it had itched, though, and I was pretty sure it was some sort of an insect because at the center of what was now the dark red bit, I remember feeling a mosquito-like itch.
Are your joints sore, she asked. No. Have you noticed any odd fevers or vomiting episodes. No fever, but last week in London, I went out for a nice Sunday lunch with a friend, who ate all the same food I did, and I threw up about twenty minutes later for no reason, and felt cold and shaky for quite awhile later. But it was a pretty intense weekend, and I was probably jet lagged. Okay, she said. Any other rashes. No. Any headaches or tension headaches. Yes, I said, but I was pretty sure I knew why.
You probably have Lyme disease, she said. Hold on and let me measure the rash.
She had forgotten to bring a tape measure – which I suppose makes sense; I’ve been to many doctor’s exam rooms and had never had cause for a tape measure – so she marked off the diameter of the rash using the long tube of her stethoscope and dashed out of the room quickly. She came back and said okay, about 21 centimeters.
It’s probably Lyme disease, she said. Without knowing what bit you it’s tough to say. Did it happen here? I didn’t know; I had been in France, Maine, the woods outside of Atlanta, and Seattle in the space of about three weeks, and I had no real recollection when I had had the insect bite – I sort of thought it was in France, but it could have been in Maine. It was a bug bite a month ago – I was impressed I even remembered I had been bit. I remembered stumbling down a stream in the Ardeche getting eaten alive by all sorts of things, I remembered swatting away gnats and bugs in the tall grass in the pine forests in Georgia, I remembered regretting not using mosquito repellent on a sandy trail in Scarborough. I didn’t recall any one bug anywhere, however.
She said again, it’s probably Lyme disease, but she added that some spider bites appear the same way. Are you allergic to antibiotics, she asked, and I said yes, remembering two years ago turning purple and almost losing consciousness when given amoxycillin for bronchitis and a French pharmacist telling me to say “I’m allergic to penicillin and penicillin derivatives” if ever asked that question in the future. The doctor said no worries, the standard treatment regime for Lyme disease uses doxycycline. She left the room again, coming back a few minutes later saying she had sent the prescription to the pharmacy up the street. She signed the discharge papers for the clinic and off I went.
I had gone to the clinic to reassure my parents that this rash thing was really nothing, but frankly, I was a little worried too. I’m a healthy guy – I just don’t get sick very often – but this rash was strange. I was pretty sure it was a spider bite, but I kept having dreams where inside my leg were thousands of tiny baby spiders feeding on my flesh, and eventually I’d be at the beach or in a suit and suddenly my body would deflate and spiders would crawl by their millions out of my now useless skin. I knew that wasn’t really happening, but when my mom and dad started egging me to go to the urgent care clinic to get it checked out, I didn’t fight too hard.
A couple of hours later, I had an orange plastic bottle with forty two light blue capsules inside. I bought a sandwich, headed to my parent’s house, and took the first pill. I had flown in from Seattle on the red eye with my five year old son. I’d had about two hours of sleep the night before, and the week before that, maybe an hour or so decent sleep a night. I had a lot on my mind. I was shaky.
I read the side effects pamphlet that I was given at the pharmacy. It was extensive, but helpfully, they listed the incidence of different side effects. Mostly they warned about increased sun sensitivity, which is a bit of a pain for a vacation in Maine in late August. Oh well, more sunscreen. Other effects include loose stools, headaches, and “confusion”.
My son played with Legos with his grandma for the rest of the day until my parents went to church for Saturday afternoon Mass. While they were there I cooked dinner while my son asked over and over again when Grandma was going to be back. We had an early supper and as soon as it was sundown, we put Alan to bed. I made it maybe an hour more and fell asleep with my glasses on, waiting for the weather to come on television. I slept for fourteen hours, longer than I had in weeks.
I woke up still shaking, though, and in a bit of a panic. Actually more than a bit of a panic. I was in the grip of an anxiety attack for what I think was the first time in my life.
I thought back to the side effects, and “confusion” came to mind, but this wasn’t confusion – or was it? Anxiety is weird, and it’s not an emotional state I’m very familiar with. I just don’t get worried or anxious very often.
But this was anxiety. I was starting to lose my grip on reality. I was in the safest place in the world – my parents’ house in Maine – and I felt like I needed to run as fast as I could into Canada, to the Arctic Ocean, to anywhere I wasn’t.
I went out to the kitchen and had some water and took a pill. My mom was up, but my son was still asleep – thankfully. She asked if I was okay and I said no, I wasn’t. She said I looked shaky and asked if I slept okay. I said yes, but told her about the anxiety.
My sister showed up – she lives down the street – and my dad clambered downstairs. Mom started making waffles while playing with my son. I started to feel claustrophobic from all the people. I stopped everyone and said “I’m really, really not comfortable – I’m anxious and feeling quite panicky” in a relatively smooth voice. My dad said I looked terrible. My sister said welcome to my world six out of seven days – you get used to it. I hugged her and said I’m sorry I haven’t understood that before. She hugged me back.
We had waffles for breakfast. I held myself together but all the time I wanted to run, scream, fall down, melt. I found myself thinking oh my God, I have to take another pill before bed.
I have to take all the other forty remaining pills.
I have three weeks of this.
I can’t do it.
We were going to go to LL Bean that day, though, which gave me something to think about. I moved the car seat into my mom’s car, my son helping me with his mini flashlight and desire to climb all over me. My son’s warm body felt calming but not calming enough. My sister and mom and my son climbed into the car and we drove north. Driving was hard. I wondered if I was doing the right thing and if I was going to kill three of the people I love most in the world in my selfish desire to drive as a means of not being panicky.
We got to the store and split up, my sister returning something, my mom and son heading off to the kids section, and me going to buy some trousers. I headed towards the men’s section and couldn’t do it. I went outside and walked down a hill until I found a park bench and I sat down. I cried a bit. My breathing got shallow and quick. I tried taking some deep breaths. I couldn’t.
I stayed there for a few minutes and then went back to the store. I found the trousers, tried them on, and then headed to the kid’s section. I found the rest of the family. We bought our stuff and headed back to the car and headed south.
We bought fried clams and lobster stew to take home for lunch. At the takeaway my sister asked how I was doing. A little better, I lied. She had me hold my hand out – to quote Andre 3000, I was shaking like a Polaroid picture. My son jumped on my mom and kicked her chest, knocking her wind out. She thought he broke a rib. He’s five years old, and I held him while my mom recovered. He wanted Grandma to hold him, he said. I understood.
We got home. Dad said I looked terrible. We ate lunch, my son insisting he didn’t want to share, insisting that his teddy bear was full.
At the end of lunch I said I needed to go for a walk and bolted out the door. I just walked down the street for a half hour. It was sunny.
At some point I remembered the side effects – increased sensitivity to light.
I should head back, I thought.
I turned around.
My mom was playing with my son when I got back. She and I had scheduled a yoga class for the evening, and we got ready and headed out. It was more meditation than anything, and I breathed as directed for an hour and a half. I spent a half hour lying on a bolster with my shoulder blades stretched behind me. My heart was beating shallow but my breath slowly stabilized.
We went home. Mom played with my son, I talked to my dad. My sister went home. We put my son to bed. We talked some more. I went to bed.
I woke up this morning and the anxiety was gone. Which is even more terrifying in a way, although I don’t feel any terror whatsoever. The feelings yesterday were entirely chemical, some mix of the antibiotics, the evil bacteria in my leg reacting to the antibiotics, and the accumulated lack of sleep and emotional rollercoaster of the last month. I couldn’t will them away. I didn’t like the vision of a chemical world that was beyond control.
The side effects of early stage Lyme disease includes headache, muscle soreness, fatigue and malaise. The side effects of doxycycline include increased sensitivity to sunlight and loose stools. The side effects of my life recently include insomnia and a sense of falling.
I’m getting better.