"My Story" prt. 1

                                            My story is like thousands of other stories out there.

       When I think back on where and when this infection must have started, I cannot attribute any specific event, which is the starting point. I remember ticks being an infrequent visitor to our family growing up.  However, somewhere around 1982, I was living in the Berkshires of Massachusetts. When camping on October Mountain one night, I felt something on my leg. I looked down, you guessed it, a tick. This thing gave me the willies. It was a fully engorged tick, the size of a raisin. Just hangin' there. In our greatest cooperative spirit, my friends and I did everything we could to get this thing off. Pulling, cigarettes, fire poker sticks. Yup. We did everything wrong. That sucker must have been stressed, especially after watching how ticks latch on for dear life this weekend. The tick on my leg was eventually removed, all the way or not I do not know, and it was burned appropriately in the campfire. End of story. For many years.