MOUNTAIN LIFE - Coast Mountains | Summer 2018

124 MLCM SUMMER 2018 (and, coincidentally, that of deer) the grey wolf, was run out of town a century ago. While this narrative briefly shifted focus away from deer, a 2015 study returned to the association between deer density, tick abundance, and Lyme disease. Evaluating a Connecticut community over the span of 1995–2008, the number of resident-reported cases of Lyme per hundredhouseholds was strongly correlated with deer density. When targeted hunts reduced deer density in the community by 87 per cent, there was a 76 per cent reduction in tick abundance, a 70 per cent reduction in bite risk (because of lower vector density), and a whopping 80 per cent reduction in resident-reported Lyme. The conclusion was that pushing back coyotes and restoring foxes might help suppress small rodents that young ticks live on, but irruptive deer that harbour adults should be significantly lowered to reduce the environmental load of infected ticks and with it, the risk of contracting Lyme. No surprise that many communities in New England, Ontario, BC and elsewhere are now hammering hard at urban deer populations. Whistler real estate agent Sarah Morphy has battled Lyme for three years but considers herself lucky. “My best friend back home is a naturopath who specializes in Lyme, so I was aware. When I got this funky, painful ‘bruise’ on my leg with what looked like a bite, I sent her a picture. It wasn’t a typical bullseye, so she said to monitor myself for symptoms.” That was July 2015, and Morphy didn’t have to wait long. In August she experienced a range of odd, seemingly disparate issues that she first connected – like many patients – to everyday life: a stiff neck ( Must have slept wrong… ); a swollen knee ( Must have twisted it… ); vertigo ( Must have been because I was bent over picking something up… ). Eventually it became clear these were connected, and knowing how pointless it was to get tested in Canada, Morphy sent a blood sample to a specialty lab in Germany. It returned positive. “So, the summer I turned 40, Lyme disease was my present,” jokes Morphy. “I got it in either Whistler, Pemberton or Anderson Lake.” Her friend directed her to another naturopath in the Lower Mainland, as well as a Lyme-friendly doctor in Maple Ridge. Between the two, a treatment consensus emerged; Morphy went on antibiotics for six months, plus other drugs, tinctures, supplements and a radical change in diet. “As soon as you start treatment you’re agitating these organisms,” she notes. “And your body feels like shit because you’re fighting them – kind of like a fever when you have a virus – and then, as they die off, you start to feel better.” Feeling better is the Holy Grail. Freedom from symptoms is less important than freedom from the ignorance of not knowing; taking Lyme into your own hands tends to create its own positive benefits that can help mood and treatment. Whistlerite Therese Lundgren was bitten by a tick in 2002 and suffered a decade of revolving symptoms before being diagnosed. At first she had a small, circular bullseye that lasted three months. When she finally went to see a doctor, she was only given some rash cream. After six months she started developing food allergies, experienced extreme exhaustion, anxiety attacks and nights sweats, and Parkinson’s-like shakes. She joked about her sudden memory loss. By 2012, Therese found herself on the verge of a physical and nervous breakdown at her parents’ house in Sweden, where she spent summers. “My aunt had Lyme disease for seven years and lost her sense of balance, so I asked a doctor there to test me for it and it came back positive – full-on late stage Lyme. I was stoked but couldn’t believe that after being sick for ten years, treatment was going to be two weeks of double-dose antibiotics.” Of course, that didn’t turn out to be the case. Late stage Lyme requires longer courses of antibiotics and co-treatments of the kind Jensen and Morphy itemized. “I didn’t want to go on IV antibiotics for two years, so I found this woman in New York who makes tinctures and started on these and other natural remedies for 120 days, deleting different foods and also doing yoga and meditation.” During this time, like Morphy, things got bad for Lundgren. “I couldn’t walk. It was like being possessed by something taking over your whole system. A kind of exorcism. Then the joint pains and brain fog lifted and my memory came back. It took six months, but I started to feel OK. I still have a few issues, but by and large, I have my life back.” These days Lundgren says she’s feeling better and has the energy needed to run her business, a second-hand fashion shop in Function Junction. It’s the kind of turnaround patients like Kelly Jensen hope for, the kind that maybe immunoglobulin treatment will bring. “I moved to where I finally wanted to be but haven’t been able to do anything I wanted to do,” notes Jensen of the unfortunate irony of living in Squamish with Lyme. “I personally know about 40 people here dealing with chronic Lyme, and at least two who acquired it here. I figure if I’m not in the classroom educating, then I should be educating the community about Lyme. I have a new sense of purpose. No one should have to go through this.” The best defense against Lyme is more education. Information on prevention and other Lyme resources can be found at canlyme.com . Leslie Anthony is a Whistler-based writer and author. His latest book is The Aliens Among Us—How Invasive Species are Transforming the Planet—and Ourselves . One deer can carry hundreds of ticks.