Vanessa Farnsworth - Rain on a Distant Roof: A Personal Journey Through Lyme Disease in Canada

For most Canadians, Lyme disease is more of a rural myth than a reality. Its a disease that exists primarily in rumors or the kinds of magazines that squeeze medical oddities between ads for miracle diets and million-dollar salaries that can be earned from the comfort of your mobile home. The average person has never met anyone with the disease but, if they stretch their memories, maybe they can recall hearing that a brother of their cousins ex-husbands father may have had a buddy whose niece once had it.

Or maybe that was lupus.

In January 2007, I knew what just about everyone knows about Lyme disease: That you get it from being bitten by an infected tick and that it makes you sick in some vaguely defined way. Its possible I could even have told you that it was named after the town of Lyme, Connecticut, one of three neighboring communities where in the mid-1970s the children fell ill in what appeared to be an outbreak of juvenile rheumatoid arthritis.

Only juvenile rheumatoid arthritis doesnt come in outbreaks.

One of the funny things about Lyme is that more people can tell you where the disease got its name than its primary symptoms. Still, I wasnt thinking about Lyme disease or ticks as I slopped through the dirty slush on my way to the dentists office.

I was in a purple mood.

After thirty cavity-free years, I suddenly had two that needed to be filled.

I resented the inconvenience. I resented the expense. I resented the slush.

Like I said, purple mood.

I dont know what I expected when I sat down in the dentists chair, but I imagine it had something to do with staring blankly at unadorned ceiling tiles while trying to ignore the sound of the drill. The good news is that the drill is in no way memorable. What is memorable is what happened when the dentist shot the freezing into my gums.

I started to fall. Through the floor. Through the Earth. Out the other side of the planet. Heat blasted up my spine, setting off earthquakes in my legs. Fear exploded like a grenade. This didnt strike me as a normal reaction to a simple shot.

It didnt strike the dentist that way either.

I said, Allergic reaction?

He looked dubious.

I pressed down on my legs as hard as I could, but my arms werent strong enough to contain the tremors so I gave up and instead turned my attention to determining whether it was physically possible for the procedure to continue. It was, although the dentist had to stop every thirty seconds because I was dogged by the sensation that my tongue was being dragged backwards down my throat.

How many years ago was that? Too many.

And yet the sensation that Im on the verge of swallowing my tongue has never gone away.

Things quickly went from bad to worse.

Of course they did.

There wouldnt be a story if they hadnt.

In the days following that fateful dentist visit, I would develop a staggering number of symptoms in addition to the ones that erupted in the dentists office: a runny nose, headaches, vertigo, diarrhea, aching muscles and joints, fatigue, nausea, weakness, disorientation, a racing heartbeat, shortness of breath, blurred vision, insatiable thirst, anxiety and fainting spells.

These symptoms were unstable, abruptly arriving and departing as though a series of switches were being flicked on and off by a wizard hidden behind a curtain. One minute, Id feel as though I had the worst flu of my life and the next Id have no symptoms at all. Then moments later some or all of the symptoms would reappear.

Those awful kaleidoscoping symptoms.

If Id written them down at twenty-minute intervals, each record would contain a unique set of data as though I were a nurse strolling through a ward, challenging myself to recall what was wrong with each one of my patients. Sometimes the lists would overlap even lightning occasionally strikes twice but in most cases the symptoms recorded at 1:30 p.m. would have nothing in common with those recorded at 2:00 p.m. except that they were all manifesting in a single human.

It was complete chaos.

There seemed to be no rhyme or reason when a symptom would appear or disappear and nighttime was the worst. Fevers would ascend just after sundown, causing me to swing violently between thermometer-melting highs and shaking chills until the small hours of the morning while waves of energy pulsed through my body. There were times when my spine would get so hot that Id lie on my stomach for fear that the sheets would catch fire.

And I really did fear that.

Because the fevers brought the crazy with them.

I wouldnt know where I was or Id believe I was someplace Id never been. The Taj Mahal. Maybe Seville.

I had nonsensical conversations that I addressed to no one in particular.

If my husband asked me a question, Id give him an answer that had nothing to do with the question he asked and I was powerless to do anything about it.

Are you okay?

The wind is causing the snow to blow upwards.

It isnt snowing. What are you talking about?

You can see both of them if you close one eye.

I dont understand.

There arent any chips left.

Whats the matter with you?

Blue.

As I was saying this, Id be watching the air pleat before my eyes like curtains slowly being drawn and stars falling from the ceiling. And Id be shoving tissues up my nostrils in an attempt to stanch the bleeding that would otherwise have forced me to sit up or change position, neither of which wouldve yielded positive results.

Those fevers. You could set your watch by them. Theyd arrive at 10 oclock every second night and fade by 3 a.m. the following morning. German trains dont run with greater accuracy.