At first we thought the pink smudge on the side of his face might have been a
scrape. Sam was 7 and, like any boy his age, he’d had plenty of those. “Does
that hurt?” we asked. “No,” he replied, looking baffled.
But over the next couple of days red circles began to surface all over his
body. They weren’t itchy or sore. But as he skipped around our home in
Glasgow as normal, reciting the content of Horrid Henry’s Jolly Joke
Book (Orion, £4.99), we took stock anxiously: three on his arms, more on
his legs, some on his torso, another on his bottom.
We wondered if it was ringworm, a fungus that produces a blotchy patch on the
skin. Our GP wasn’t sure, but prescribed antifungal creams just in case and
told us not to worry. We tried for a couple of days, but then more blotches
appeared and the terrible realisation began to dawn that this might be
something to do with the ticks that we’d encountered on the holiday we’d
just had on a Swedish island.
We’d gone swimming in the Baltic, explored the countryside and loitered on the
beaches. And, as we’d been warned in the guidebooks, there had been ticks:
wee brown-black devils that sink their heads into your skin to gorge on your
blood.
In Sweden it’s estimated that one tick in ten carries the bacteria Borrelia
burgdorferi, which can cause the multi-system disorder Lyme disease.
First identified in 1975, the illness is named after Lyme, a town in
Connecticut where dozens of children were thought to be suffering from a
crippling form of arthritis until the true cause was discovered.
Lyme is progressive and nasty, and can develop into a range of symptoms, from
arthritic aches and pains to cardiac and even psychiatric problems. Often it
is mistaken for other conditions and goes untreated, worsening all the time.
The European strain is said to be less dangerous than the American one but,
still, it’s a veritable Pandora’s box.
Having learnt all this, there was family pandemonium when we spotted a tick in
our little girl’s belly button on Day 2 of our holiday. We checked and found
that Sam also had one between his toes (he’d been wearing open sandals, a
big nono in tick areas). I was worried, but my wife was frantic. We’d
planned a holiday to remember, not a lifetime of illness for our children.
Our first problem was removing the little blighters; the tweezers in our
first-aid kit — and the promise of a slab of chocolate to keep the children
still — did the trick.
The next day we drove the hour or so to the nearest hospital for guidance.
There we found perhaps the world’s only non-English-speaking Swede who
nevertheless managed to explain that we had nothing to worry about. In
fragments of German (we spoke little or no Swedish) he told us to look out
for a red mark around the bitten area as a telltale sign that the bacteria
had got in.
That was the advice that had misled us at home in Glasgow. The reddening
wasn’t where the bites were. That pink smudge on Sam’s face was the telltale
first ring and we’d missed it. Another reason why we had initially doubted
that it was Lyme was that the tick had been removed quickly and the
literature speaks of it needing 24 hours to pass on the bacteria. But the
incubation time marked in the books, two weeks, was just about right for the
appearance of the smudge.
We visited our GP three times, increasingly convinced that Sam had Lyme
disease. We even took in printouts of the telltale “bull’s eye” rashes we
felt matched Sam’s. In the end we were told to take him to hospital “if we
wanted to”.
We were angry because we believed that our child had a terrible illness, yet
the doctors at our local surgery seemed casual and not to know much about
it. As it happened, at Yorkhill, Glasgow’s children’s hospital, it took a
specialist about three seconds to diagnose Lyme disease. He even asked if he
could photograph the rashes, and Sam now proudly boasts that his bottom is
featured in a medical textbook.
Our little boy was lucky: his recovery was complete. He was prescribed a
two-week course of antibiotics so strong the pharmacist queried that the
dose was for a child and not, say, a horse. But that is how Lyme’s is
treated: the bacteria needs to be blitzed from your system early on.
However, the ignorance of Lyme’s we experienced among health professionals was
alarming as it is an illness very much on the increase in the UK. In
Scotland in 1996 there were just three reported cases, but 27 in 2000, and
63 in 2005. Most cases still go unreported and, according to the NHS, it is
believed that as many as 2,000 people contract the disease in Britain each
year.
The risk of contracting the disease increases in warm weather, when ticks and
the bacteria thrive and walkers are less likely to wear layers of protective
clothes. And with warmer, wetter weather expected as a result of global
warming, tick populations can only increase.
Since Sam’s illness, I’ve met several people who have also been treated for
the condition, either after camping trips in the Highlands or visits to
Scandinavia. In each case, those infected had either not heard or not
understood anything of the dangers beforehand. Considering Borrelia
burgdorferi’s potential, I feel that no one should venture into the
countryside without being aware of what a tiny tick can do.
Lyme disease: the facts Where is the tick found? Borrelia burgdorferi
is most associated with areas where there are wild deer. The tick that
carries the bacteria prefers woods, heath and moorland and is found in the
New Forest, Exmoor, Wiltshire, west Berkshire, South Downs, Thetford Forest,
the Lake District, North Yorkshire, the Scottish Highlands and Islands.
What precautions can you take? Wear closed shoes, long sleeves and
trousers.
How can you remove ticks? Grasp the tick’s mouthparts — but not the
main body — with tweezers. Apply gentle pressure and pull upwards, firmly
and steadily. Clean the area around the bite with antiseptic disinfectant.
Do not use fingers, crush the tick’s body or try to burn off.
For more information . . . Visit the European Union Concerted Action On
Lyme Borreliosis at www. meduni09.edis.at/eucalb/ index.htm
MEN’S HEALTH MYTHS
2. You don’t use health services as much as women
Who says? Everyone; this myth is repeated so often you’d assume it’s
gospel. Your other half will delight in using it as a stick with which to
beat you all the way to your GP’s door.
How wrong is it? It’s a distortion of the truth.
Give me the facts Women do use health services more than men, but
that’s because they have more reason to. As a bloke, you’d get funny looks
if you booked for a smear, antenatal check, Pill prescription and so on.
True, you’re the proud owner of a prostate and pant-tackle that the girls
don’t have. But these are easily trumped by lady’s problems involving
breasts and gynaecology. Now do the maths: subtract from female health
service use the strictly girlie stuff, then do the same for men. You’ll find
that at least 60 per cent of the apparent male v female difference in doctor
door-stepping vanishes.
What should you do? Don’t feel as though you’re neglecting the health
service but use it when you really need to. And if she says you should have
a health MoT, refer her to the forthcoming myth: “Blokes would be healthier
if they visited the doctor more often”.
Last word “It’s not so that men use health services less; it’s just
that women use them more.” KEITH HOPCROFT, GP
