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lyme disease ebook

Lyme Book Excerpt - The Ghost Caller

You may know that Prednisone is contraindicated when you have Lyme. Ever wondered what would happen if you took it anyway? Before my test results had come back from IGeneX, I was prescribed steroids to stop a spreading rash.

When I finally found a doctor educated about Lyme, he expressed deep concern when I told him about the steroids, which had been prescribed by an IDSA doctor. They had replicated the Lyme bacteria, driven it into my organs and across the barrier into my brain.

The day I started on Prednisone, I began to experience auditory hallucinations--the kind you hear, not the kind you see. I also had kinesthetic hallucinations: I would wake up from a nap convinced I had a raging fever. But the thermometer always read 98.6.

The steroids took a big toll, emotionally as well as physically. The irony was, they didn't even stop the rash completely. So in my fog, I reasoned that I had to keep taking them—follow the doctor's orders. By the time I mustered the guts to disobey the doctor and stop taking it, the damage was done. I couldn't walk, talk, or think.

The following is an excerpt from my ebook, available soon:

So, I took the Prednisone. And life as I knew it started to disintegrate. As the undetected Lyme bacteria began destroying my immune system, it collided with the corticosteroids. I began to learn what it meant to fall apart.

I was in the kitchen when the phone rang. I answered. Wrong number. It rang again; I picked it up. Again, a little girl on the other end asked for someone whose name I did not know. 

Again, I told her she had the wrong number.

But the phone kept ringing. 

Each time, I picked it up and said hello. As soon as I set it down, it would ring again. To the same exact little girl I said, “sorry, wrong number.”

By the third time, I was angry and my voice was rising in pitch. “Please stop calling me,” I said. “Wrong number! Which word do you not understand?”

By then I was fuming, staring at the phone like a snake at a mouse. This was ludicrous. No normal person would keep on calling over and over, thinking she was going to get it right eventually. Isn’t that the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing repeatedly, expecting different results?

When the phone rang again, I flew into a rage. 

From another part of the house, Evan heard me yelling into the phone. He appeared in the doorway. My heart was beating fast. I wanted to hit something. I slammed the phone down hard.

“What's going on out here?” he asked.

I shot him a look to kill. “Some stupid moron will not stop calling! She’s got the wrong number.” 

He looked at me. “I didn’t hear the phone ring. Not once.”

“You were in the shower!”

“I was in the bath. I would have heard the phone,” he said. 

I am outraged at his bullheadedness. “Well, if it hasn’t been ringing, what are you saying? I’m crazy?” 

My head wobbled on my neck and I collapsed into a chair, choking back tears. I had tremors and a stammer.

Evan headed for the door. “Why don’t you call your mom,” he said, before pulling it shut behind him.


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