About a month after my ALS diagnosis in 2012, I received a questionably positive test for Lyme Disease. The reason I say it was questionable is because even the diagnosing doctor, a Lyme expert, said that it was not *exactly* definitive, but that we should nevertheless set out to treat it, just in case.

I was all in. Earlier Lyme tests had been negative, and I knew the treatment was intense. But I had ALS. If I’d been told there was a chance that living in the washing machine and eating styrofoam would help me, I would have done it. And then I think this would be a very different blog.

I arranged to have the necessary minor surgery. A skinny tube called a peripherally inserted central catheter (PICC) was fed into my arm, traveling through my body to its final destination in my chest. It took about a month to get insurance to agree, and to get the appointments scheduled. That was all time that I was sure was being wasted, time keeping me from getting to this potential cure.

How had I gotten Lyme Disease? There were realistic answers to that question. Read More>