The doctor I went to specializes in cancer, Lyme, and chronic health conditions. He uses conventional and complementary therapies. Dr. Douwes has been treating cancer for over 40 years and Lyme for over 16 years. He is President of the German Society for oncology and the Founder of the German Society for Biological Cancer Control and Hyperthermia. He is a sought after international lecturer, and has received awards for his work. Numerous films about his work have been made. The list of scientific papers published are endless. But why am I telling you this? Because it is important to paint the picture accurately. Dr. Douwes is not some unknown, backyard doctor with unproven results. He does not run a small, one man, unheard of practice. He heads a 50 room private hospital where German health insurance covers their patients. This doctor is one of the leading doctors in Germany, and Germany is one of the most medically advanced countries in the world. What amazed me about Dr. Douwes was how humble he was. There I was sitting, talking to a man who has saved countless lives, developed life-saving therapies, and there he was asking me what my dreams were. On my last day, when I was looking a little better, he smiled and said, “this is why I do this.”

Dr. Douwes came across his treatment for Lyme by accident. Through treating patients for cancer, he came across two individuals who also had Lyme Disease. Once they underwent his hyperthermia treatment for cancer they noticed that their Lyme symptoms had disappeared. These results triggered his curiosity and he began researching. This lead him back to how they treated syphilis, which is a similar composition to the Borrelia (Lyme) bacteria. In 1927 it was discovered that injecting a syphilis patient with malaria would induce a fever which, in turn, killed the bacteria. The professor who discovered this went on to win a Nobel Peace Prize for his discoveries. Dr. Douwes linked this knowledge with other studies and knew he was onto something. He started testing his theory on Lyme patients and saw successful results. He learned that antibiotics intravenously used, in conjunction with the whole body hyperthermia process, increased the effects of the antibiotics 60-fold. Since his discoveries for treating Lyme, he has gone on to develop a treatment plan and now treats 150-200 people a year in his hospital. Patients come from all over the world to receive treatment from him.

In this country, each year, over 300,000 people are diagnosed with this disease, countless others go without being correctly diagnosed. The numbers of those with Lyme disease are higher than those for breast cancer with rates of between 230,000 to 250,000 a year, higher than HIV in the 80ties which peaked at a 150,000, but still no one will formally acknowledge it (Berenbaum 11). There is no known cure yet, but if our medical board doesn't accept it exists, how is one ever going to be found? Despite its prevalence in the world, you have probably never heard of it.  It is so overlooked in this country, yet it is leaving people so sick that they can no longer function on a daily basis. Some people are left unable to walk and some spend most of their day having seizures. This disease can even claim your life. This disease can affect every part of your body, from crippling pain to affecting your brain function. So what is it? How do you get it? All of this comes from something no bigger than a pinhead - a tick. The disease is Lyme Disease. Why does this disease get me so passionate? This is my life. This is what I have been living with for nearly four years. One week after turning 15 to be exact. I remember a strange, bullseye shaped rash on my leg. My Mum took me to Urgent Care to have a doctor look at it, where it was incorrectly diagnosed as a spider bite.  If he had known the trademark, bullseye rash of Lyme, or had asked the right questions, I might not have had to undergo the pain that I was going to suffer for the next few years.

         Doctors see Lyme disease as only in the northeast, but the truth is it has been found across the entire country. Reflecting back to when I went to Urgent Care, the doctor obviously failed to notice the obvious shape of the rash on my leg. He asked us if we had been hiking through the woods or traveling out of the state, but we had not. We had just moved houses, so we were busy with everything which moving entails, and had not left Mooresville once. The most important question he should have asked us was whether we had been anywhere that deer were often spotted. If this question had been asked, we would have said yes, explaining that a family of deer was often spotted near our house. If this question had been asked, I could have avoided years of hardship. 

         So what would have happened if I had been treated immediately? First, I would have been put on a two week course of antibiotics. This is the standard procedure, but most doctors who work with Lyme say it needs to be four weeks. If early diagnosis and treatment happens, about 80% of patients recover. What happens to the other 20% and the people like myself that go undiagnosed for years? The answer is where the division starts within the medical field in the USA - Chronic Lyme Disease. The Borrelia, which is the name for the bacteria which we know as Lyme Disease, is a spirochete bacteria that screws itself into your tissues, muscles, brain, organs, and can spread throughout your entire body. The longer it is left untreated, the harder it is to eradicate. Once it has turned into Chronic Lyme, the simple short-term antibiotic treatment does not work. There is no proven cure and people are left suffering without very much hope.

During my Sophomore year, I started to struggle in school. Homework lasted twice as long, with simple processes like reading and writing becoming a battle. This was strange for me because, when I was younger, school came much easier, and I was ranked in the top of my class. I blamed my fatigue on my still needing to fully adjust to high school's demands. Alongside my mental struggle, I started to be sick more often and, when I did, it took me twice as long to recover. 

                   Two years later, during the summer before my senior year, I decided to do two musical theater shows for the Community School of Davidson. During these shows everyone started noticing a huge decline in my health. In contrast to the energy of those surrounding my on stage, I was fading. It took all I had to get out of bed just to make it to rehearsal. I was losing weight and my hair was falling out by the handfuls. I looked so sick and frail. I did not even recognize myself.  

Despite the various doctors who, shockingly, stated I was fine, my body screamed something different. I knew I was far from fine.  My weight had decreased by 20 pounds and I started noticing that my back, neck and shoulders were in a constant state of unbearable pain. My parents took me to the emergency room three different times for chest pain and difficulty of breathing. I started having anxiety attacks. I was losing control of myself.

                   It took a few months of doctor shopping but, eventually, I found a doctor who would actually listen to me and wanted to find answers just as much as I did. It was obvious that I was sick when he first met me, so the tests started right away. There was no way I could prepare myself for everything that was about to happen.

         Due to symptoms that mimicked other diseases, finding a diagnosis was no easy process. This meant I needed to prepare myself for many tests. Blood test after blood test was performed. Everything the doctor was suspicious about was checked. My results came back and I was told that I had a low thyroid, adrenal fatigue, vitamin deficiency, hormone imbalance, and the answer to all my problems . . . Lyme disease. When the doctor first diagnosed me, I did not know anything about Lyme disease, and I did not think it would be a very big deal. I was very wrong.

                   I started my first protocol the same day that I received my diagnosis. I was supposed to take 80 pills a day, as well as swallow liquid medicine, which burned. I would cry as I forced the pills down, one by one. The pills were huge and they scratched my throat as they travelled down. About an hour later, it was time for my next lot of pills.

                   I tried going back to school about a month later. On the first day, I passed out in the middle of the parking lot. After that, we knew school wasn't going to work for me. I took the year off from school and focused on getting better. Instead, I started getting a lot worse. During this time, I could not move my hands properly because I was so weak. My mum would have to lift my hand to my mouth to take my pills because I could not do it myself. I was just a body in a bed taking pills. I had no personality or thoughts. I just laid in bed staring at the ceiling all day. If I did make it out of the house, I would last about thirty minutes before I crashed, and I had to be carried back to my bed. I did not have many friends at this time either because they were all in school and busy. Even when they were free, I was not a very enjoyable person to be around, so they usually did not come over. On top of the sickness, the abandonment I felt resulted in a deep sense of sadness that I could not shake. 

After years of struggle, I was booked for a three week treatment plan at the Klinik St. Georg in Germany with Dr Douwes. Even though I had read about the treatment plan, nothing prepared me for the reality. It was far more intensive than I had thought. 

My first few days consisted of test and numerous different therapies. I also received my IV line that would remain in my arm until I left. The next few days were full of  laser therapy, ozone therapy, detox therapy, and magnetic therapy. All of which took place while various medicines were being intravenously fed into my arm. I remember, one day, I had six continuous hours of IV treatment. The antibiotics administered through the IV were starting to make me sick. These days of various treatments were leading up to what I feared most: hyperthermia treatment.

During Whole body hyperthermia treatment, you lie in a chamber that looks like an incubator. The body's tissues are heated up to 107 degrees. Once it reaches that temperature, it is held steady for hours. After which, it takes two more hours for your body to cool down. This means that, in total, your temperature is elevated for six hours. Studies show that at 102.2 degrees, the bacteria become immobile, at 104 degrees, the bacteria shed their outer membrane, and at 106.9 degrees, the bacteria die.

On Day four, I was woken up at 5:00 in the morning in preparation for the treatment. By 8:00, I was heading to the Hyperthermia Unit. My mother was not permitted to come in with me.        First, I was given a light anesthetic before the procedure started. I was hooked up to many different machines that would monitor all my levels. This procedure was not taken lightly. I had a nurse by my side the whole time, and a doctor there to monitor me. Apart from the trouble they had getting me to sleep (my heart rate was a whopping 177 bmp), I cannot recall anything until I awoke in the recovery room with my mum. I slept for 20 hours after the procedure, with only three 20 minute sessions where I was awake and talking. The steady stream of IVs continued to flow. Antibiotics and huge amounts of fluids with vitamins and minerals, like potassium, were administered to restore my body from what the high temperature had taken away from me.

The three days that followed this procedure were terrible. I could barely get out of bed. I was so sick and I still had to get up for more therapy. Everything I did was a struggle, causing me to simply lay in silence and hope for some type of relief. I slept more than I knew was physically possible. Nearly six days passed before I had the energy to walk outside. When I finally gained the strength to do so, my outing was only a brief 15 minute walk, which felt similar to the exertion of a 5k. 

Just as I started feeling improvement, I realized that I was fast approaching my second hyperthermia treatment. I was dreading having to go through it all over again. I had to keep believing what the doctors told me. They promised the second treatment would not be nearly as bad as the first. So, the following Monday, I started at 5:00 in the morning and went through it all again. Thankfully, my recovery was a lot quicker this time. I was more aware of  my surroundings and I was not affected by the drugs as much as I was the first time. 

Once again, I went straight back into the regime of supplementary treatments. It was interesting how the treatments and procedures, that had terrified me the week before, no longer held the power. It started to feel normal to always have a tube in my arm while drawing blood from the other. It was natural to walk to lunch wheeling my IV with me. 

Just when I thought nothing could scare me, however, I was scheduled for a procedure called plasmapheresis. This was scheduled to take place two days after my last hyperthermia treatment. Plasmapheresis is a procedure where, simply put, your blood is circulated out of your body and the plasma is separated from the blood cells. Then, the plasma is put through a machine that filters it. The clean plasma is then pumped back into the body. The entire procedure takes approximately six hours. The scary thing was that, in order to effectively get enough blood, they had to insert a central line in my neck. To make matters worse, my mum was not allowed into the room when they put the line in. From personal experience, I can say that having someone insert a plastic tube into your neck down to your heart is not fun. I think I freaked out several people in the waiting room, including my mother, when I walked out with a tube sticking out of my neck at right angles. With the first part done, we went into another room where, thankfully, Mum was allowed. Then, the long process of cleaning my blood started. In total they processed 6.6 liters (1.75 gallons), which is basically my entire supply. You are awake the whole time without any medication. Then, they took the clean plasma and pumped it back into me, which took another hour. They had a huge bag of "dirty" plasma, which had to be discarded. It was amazing seeing the difference between the two. The final step was to remove the central line. This was just one more experience that was not fun at all, with a conclusion that, to say the least, left me quite relieved. It was an emotional mix between tears and laughter. With this procedure completed, I was nearing the end. I was counting down the days until I was able to go home. I was so homesick at this point.

At this point, I only had four days left in my treatment and then I would be headed home. The antibiotics were finished, so I managed to start eating again. I was also starting to feel better each day. My face, which had been swollen from the hyperthermia treatment, was starting to reduce in size too.

I was scheduled to have four injections over my last four days. They were explained to me as "xenogeneic peptides." These injections were used to help stimulate my body into producing stem cells and create new tissue in areas of the body that needed regeneration. Since I had become so used to being jabbed by needles, the first injection did not worry me. I continued with all of my other treatments. Six hours later, I suddenly doubled over with chest pain. It was so painful that I could barely talk. It lasted about 20 minutes and then the pain left almost immediately. We told the doctor, but no one knew what the problem was. The next day I had my injection earlier in the day, and six hours later the same pain came back but for 40 minutes this time. We were all very concerned. The doctors ran some tests but still did not know what the problem was. I thought it had something to do with the injections but did not know for sure. After consulting with the doctor, I agreed to the third injection.

On the day before we left, we had decided to to take our one and only excursion. So, after my injection, we headed to the train station. We had a nice time trying to navigate our way around...ok let’s be honest, we got lost. But it was a nice reward to get out of the hospital. Unfortunately the fun came to a screeching halt, as the pains started back up again. We were luckily at the train station waiting for our train. I was hunched over on a cold concrete floor. Apparently, all the color had drained from my face. All I could focus on was trying to keep still and breathe through the pain. I know my mum was terrified as she wrestled with whether she put me on the train to get me back to our hospital, or whether to call an ambulance. I convinced her to get on the train thinking it would disappear quickly like the previous days. So we started our journey back, with my mum ready to leap out at every station. We kept going, but the pain didn’t go away. It took two hours until it finally started to die down. The pain lingered for over 3 hours. I don’t think my mum nor I could have felt more relief than we did when we finally walked back into our hospital. They ran more tests and kept monitoring for the rest of the night. We still don’t know why I reacted, but there was no way I was going to have the fourth injection. Apart from those episodes I could start to see an improvement in myself. I started to have more energy, and I could feel mental improvements. I started to feel the desire to start making goals. I had previously just been in survival mode, making it through the day had been my biggest goal. I was taking baby steps, but they were steps nevertheless. 

After a ten hour flight I was safely back home, exhausted, but so happy. For the next couple of weeks I saw slight improvements but not enough to get excited by. But on Thanksgiving morning I woke up feeling different: feeling happy. That day I walked 22,000 steps (I used average 50 most normal days). Each day my family noticed me being more involved, whereas normally I just observed family involvement. I didn’t want to get too excited, but I felt different. I was starting to feel like myself again. I remember making a joke and my father got emotional and said “I forgot, you are really funny.” Somewhere along the line I had stopped making jokes. Another time my brother and I were singing a duet in the car trying to outsing each other. This time both Mum and Dad got emotional and said “I forgot she can sing.” Sometime in the the last year I had stopped singing, we just hadn’t realized it. But the most touching moment was when my youngest brother announced “I have my sister back”.

I am one of the lucky few that conquered this. One of the few that had a support team that fought for me when I no longer had the energy, and wouldn’t give up on finding a cure. One of the few that financially could afford to take the risk on a possible cure.  Each day I get closer to being a completely healthy teenager. It has been a long journey, one that I am glad to be nearing the end of. This disease stripped me of  a “normal life” for nearly four years. I can not get those four years back, but what I can do is learn and grow from it. I will not let it take everything good from me. I can use it for good. I can help others and give back to the community by educating. I can see how it has changed me for the better, and I know the qualities I have gained will hold me strong for the future.