“I think I might be schizophrenic.”

I called my parents to tell them that September of my sophomore year. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever said.

I’d been sleeping 15 hours a day so I wouldn’t have to see anything or anyone. When I was awake, I suffered from constant panic attacks and was routinely cutting small areas on my body to make sure I was full of blood and not motor oil — I had gotten pretty into simulation theory. I couldn’t remember anything, including: What I had been taught in classes, what cup of coffee I was on, and the entire month of August.

At the same time, my body was completely shutting down. I had a triple tear duct infection in July that could only be treated with a thick ointment applied directly to the eyeball for three weeks. In early September, the Hillsdale Orthopedic Group pulled 56 milliliters of crystallizing fluid out of my knee. I developed a daily ritual of crying over my new belief that my mom didn’t exist, usually hard enough to make me vomit. 

My parents and I decided that it was probably best for me to leave school for a little while.

But as I was preparing myself to tell my friends I was going home, I got a call from my orthopedist. They had analyzed the fluid from my knee and wanted me to come back in.

“Did you know you had Lyme disease?”

Nope.

Due to the deer population, Michigan is a hotbed of tick-borne diseases including Lyme, alpha-gal syndrome, and Rocky Mountain spotted fever. I didn’t know that.

As it turned out, I had Lyme for more than six months and never knew. The fatigue, the autoimmune problems, the dissociation and delusions that had been haunting me for months were explained in a sentence. 

Knowing was only half the battle. I was on and off different medications for another year, culminating in a month of IV treatment. After that, there were semi-consistent symptoms for another six months with a likelihood to have episodes for the rest of my life.

There’s a very little moral to this long story.

As it’s getting warmer, wear bug spray and look for ticks or marks on your lower legs. The Arboretum, Baw Beese Lake, and Hayden Park are all places to follow up with a quick tick-check.

It sounds stupid, but it ruined my life for two years — and if that’s not convincing enough, alpha-gal syndrome makes you allergic to red meat.