Warren Buffet, The Gates Foundation, and the CDC

Newsgroup Leader Katheen · medicine forum Guru Joined: 20 Jan 2006 Posts: 654

Date: Sun, 2 Jul 2006 16:25:40 -0700 (PDT)
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Subject: Warren Buffet, The Gates Foundation, and the CDC

To: "Kathleen Dickson" <kmdickson0308@yahoo.com>, Send an Instant
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I don't think it's worth the bother, B. It's best to
simply sue the Yale, CDC, and NIH staff involved.

Note that the Gates' and Buffet know what the game is
as far as infectious diseases and the competence of
any US government organization:
http://groups.google.com/group/sci.med.diseases.lyme/browse_frm/thread/6c37babe1d43da5d/c8c8709ff386ba75?hl=en#c8c8709ff386ba75

The immune incompetence caused by "stealth pathogens"
is no big secret and neither is the failure of BigPharma:
http://groups.google.com/group/sci.med.diseases.lyme/browse_frm/thread/1500430ff5d678ed/2da7a5da24d98d4b?hl=en#2da7a5da24d98d4b

In the simplest terms, Why cure something like
arthritis (usually some sort of infection), when you
can treat someone forever? In the case of Lyme,
however, there's no debating that it is a CNS
infection, since Barbour says:

"The propensity for borrelia to go to the brain of
infected mammals suggests that the relationship
between these spirochetes and neural tissues is not
trivial.

"Further study of this attraction and the interaction
that follows may reveal the basis for the significant
nerve and brain involvement in Lyme borreliosis"--
Alan Barbour
http://www.actionlyme.org/Biology%20of%20Borrelia%20Species,%201986,%20Barbour.htm

That's why the treatment of choice is *CEF*triaxone.
"Cef" means head. It's for brain and central nervous
system infections. And the IV modality is a standard
for CNS infections.

That treatment, the standard of care, was developed by
Ray Dattwyler and he said the treatment endpoint was
unknown:
http://www.actionlyme.org/THE_TREATMENT_OF_LYME_DISEASE.htm

No one is going to mail this to the CDC. They know
damned well what they are doing- causing all this
death and disability.
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=PureSearch&db=pubmed&details_term=%28%22mycoplasma%22%5BMeSH%20Terms%5D%20OR%20mycoplasma%5BText%20Word%5D%29%20AND%20chronic%5BAll%20Fields%5D%20AND%20%28%22antibodies%22%5BMeSH%20Terms%5D%20OR%20antibodies%5BText%20Word%5D%29
You should look at all those references.
K
From: B
To: SpinLyme@yahoogroups.com
Subject: [SpinLyme] anyone care to send this to the
CDC?
Date: Friday, June 30, 2006 08:37:35 [View Source]

http://www.backpackhttp://www.backhttp://www.bahttp://

Reality Bites

A park ranger's struggle with tick-borne disease

June 2006

I got my case of Lyme disease from a tick bite while
working as a park
ranger in the western foothills of the Sierra Nevada
on June 14, 1998. We
rangers are one-size-fits- rangers are
one-size-fits-<wbr>all fixers of an
we get called upon to act in situations you might not
associate with us. If
we come upon a fire, we are expected to get out our
shovels and start
building line. If there's a baby to be born and the
woman isn't making it to
the hospital, we'll deliver it, right where we are.
And if someone commits a
criminal act, it's our job to make sure they don't get
away.

I was on patrol that afternoon when I heard a deputy
sheriff on the radio,
pursuing a suspect on foot in the canyon below me. He
was inside my park, so
I went down to the river to assist him. This sort of
thing was common enough
that I can't remember what the particular guy we were
looking for had done,
but I recall the sting of the star thistles on my bare
legs as I ran down
from the road. I was wearing shorts because I'd been
on boat patrol earlier
that day and shorts were easier to swim in if you had
to dive off the boat
to get someone out of the water.

We lost our man. I dusted myself off and drove back to
the ranger station,
where I caught up on paperwork. The incident had been
sufficiently
anticlimactic that I never wrote a report on it. So it
can be with pivotal
things; they can come dressed in normalcy, like the
Texas Schoolbook
Depository or the spaghetti dinner I had with my
friend and fellow ranger
Kyle Pattee before he burned to death fighting the
Shiprock Fire up in
Idaho. They say he didn't have his gloves on, so he
couldn't hold down his
foil shelter when the fire overran his position. So it
was with me, running
into the weeds in that warm afternoon in those shorts
with no insect
repellent. They hadn't told us about ticks and Lyme at
our ranger academy.
To this day, they still don't.

The following morning, my day off, I slept in.
Sometime after coffee I found
a tick-small, brick red-doing a headstand with its
mouthparts buried in my
skin just below where my gunbelt had been. I carefully
removed it with
tweezers and put it in a plastic sandwich bag to take
to my family doctor.

My physician didn't see much point in testing the
tick. Lyme was a rare
disease in California, he said, and if by some wild
chance the tick in the
bag was carrying it, I was unlikely to get it. Expect
some localized redness
around the bite; ticks are dirty animals, he said. I
followed his advice.
When a classic Lyme rash appeared around bite, I
didn't worry; I'd never
seen one before.

The first thing I noticed in the weeks that followed
was a crushing fatigue
that didn't improve with rest. In August, I went to
see another doctor-a
cool young general practitioner in running shoes and a
white lab coat. I
told him about the tick bite, the rash, the fatigue.
He sent me to get blood
drawn.

"Good news," he told me on a follow-up visit, "Your
tests are all normal."
He felt my belly. "Your spleen's enlarged, though."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure." He finished examining me and washed
his hands at the sink,
then scribbled something on a prescription form.

"What's that?" I asked.

"I want you to take Prozac."

"Prozac? Wouldn't I know it if I were depressed?" I
responded. "I don't feel
sad-well, if I am, it's only because I'm too tired to
play with my children
anymore."

"You wouldn't necessarily know you were depressed," he
replied, peering at
me through his wire-rimmed glasses. "From what you've
told me you've got a
stressful job, and there are some forms of depression
that are experienced
only as fatigue."

I left his office, feeling embarrassed.

I limped through the next year, working part-time. I
had bouts of severe
diarrhea, which came without warning and then
disappeared just as quickly.
Back to the running-shoe doctor; stool samples were
run; no intestinal
parasites were found, all normal. I ran out of sick
leave. At 43, perhaps I
was getting too old for ranger work, I thought. Then
that September, one
morning I woke up and couldn't feel my hands.

Once, in Alaska, before the advent of GPS devices, a
friend and I spent a
day crawling over mossy logs in a dripping spruce
forest, unable to discern
where we were. The next morning the clouds lifted and
we climbed a tree on a
ridge, where we could shoot compass azimuths on a
nearby peak. Nowadays
people don't get lost very much. Everything is made to
make us more and more
found, connected as we are by PDA, cell phone, and
GPS. But as the Lyme got
worse, my own body became a terra incognita, full of
signs and features I
didn't recognize.

The numbness and pins and needles in my hands soon
progressed to my feet.
Then there were shooting and stabbing pains; the first
time I had one, I
tore my shoe off, thinking a spider had crawled into
it. My vision grew
blurry. I got motion sickness during car rides, a
problem I had never known
in my life. My ears had begun to ring, a piercing
whine.

The beginning of the end of my ranger career came one
day at the pistol
range. We were required to qualify with our weapons
four times a year. We
stood facing our row of human silhouette targets; the
rangemaster called
out, "Gun!" The rangers on either side of me drew and
fired, and I was left
struggling to get my gun out. The loss of feeling in
my right hand made it
impossible for me to operate the releases on my
holster. I could not be on
duty in that condition.

I saw a rheumatologist who sent me to a neurologist,
who did a spinal tap. I
had elevated protein in my spinal fluid. The
neurologist stuck electrodes on
my arms and legs through which he delivered electric
shocks to test my
nerves. This test revealed nerve damage, he said, and
coupled with the
elevated protein in my spinal fluid seemed to indicate
that the protective
sheaths of my nerves might be melting away. But the
cause was unlikely to be
Lyme, he said, because Lyme wasn't found much in
California. I would later
find out that a county lab had been collecting ticks
in the park where I had
been bitten, and 4 to 11 percent of them had tested
positive for Lyme.

Finally, in January of 2000 I went to see a prominent
Lyme disease
researcher.

"Why didn't anybody see this?" he said, leafing
through my thick patient
file. "You're a classic case. A park ranger-an
occupation prone to
tick-borne disease-known tick bite, subsequent rash,
typical symptoms..."

He put me on oral antibiotics.

This is the point in a medical narrative where things
ought to get better,
but they got worse. Now I developed painful arthritis
in my feet and hands.
Later it would appear in my shoulders. One day, quite
suddenly, my nose
filled with the most horrible odor-like the smell of
death mixed with
noxious chemicals. The odor went away only to return
again, over and over.
Sometimes I tasted it in my mouth.

Two years after my tick bite I began feeling decidedly
drunk, but this was a
far more unpleasant intoxication than an alcohol buzz.
I was having trouble
with minor computations, balancing a checkbook, the
tip on a restaurant
bill. I forgot the words for things, lost my parked
car, got lost while
driving in familiar places. The identities of people
who apparently knew me
pretty well were becoming obscure to me. Writing a
note to my wife or
something in my diary, I would write the second letter
of a word before the
first. Why not the third? It was always the second.
The brain is a
labyrinthine organism, its complexity most apparent
when the flawless
functioning we take for granted begins to unravel.

In year three, the specialist called for a small tube
to be inserted through
my chest into the large veins at the portal to my
heart. It was a handy
little thing; I could coil up the tube and tape it to
my chest under my
clothing. I had been a trained as a ranger medic and
knew how to prepare and
infuse intravenous drugs, so I didn't need to stay
close to a refrigerated
drug supply or a nurse. On a couple of occasions I
even stayed overnight in
the forest-what joy there was in that!-hanging my bag
of intravenous
antibiotics from a tree branch as I infused myself, as
we might have done on
a backcountry rescue. But I was retired on disability
now, and it was clear
I would never rescue people again. The fatigue was
beyond measure, yet I
couldn't sleep. I wanted, more than anything, to
sleep. I thought about
shooting myself.

After eight months of IV treatment, I had a week when
I could think, reason,
remember names and words. Although I would soon
descend back into what my
Lyme doctors refer to as "brain fog," it was like that
time in Alaska where
I had climbed that little spruce and shot my azimuths.
Now I had something
to navigate by. It appeared that the equipment was
largely intact; it was
just that the capacity to use it had been confiscated
for an indefinite
period. Maybe I could win it back.

I am still on antibiotics. There are doctors in this
country who do not
believe in such treatment, a position most insurers
and HMOs are more than
happy to agree with, since prolonged treatment isn't
cheap.

Whatever the opinions about chronic Lyme, when I am
being treated with
antibiotics, my arthritis and the swelling in my
joints gets better; I can
write, think, play with my children, and to a more
limited extent, enjoy
life as I did before. So far, when I go off them I
suffer a rapid return of
painful arthritis, numbness and nerve pain, memory
loss, blurred vision,
sleeplessness, ringing in the ears, and the rest of
it. Scientists have
found that Lyme's spiral bacteria-spirochete found
that Lyme's spiral bact
More sinister yet, they kill critical immune cells,
hijacking their genetic
material to evade the body's defenses. Pathologists
have found Lyme
spirochetes in the brains of patients who received
antibiotics and later
died.

I've thought a lot about how things might have been
different-long pants,
bug repellent, and a tick check that evening when I
got home from work. The
bottle of doxycycline pills that most experts agree is
capable of preventing
Lyme if given immediately after the bite costs $16 at
the government's
discount. A recent tally of costs of my illness totals
over $200,000. Then
there's the question of why it took five doctors to
get diagnosed. If there
is one thing Lyme has taught me, it is how potent a
longstanding belief-for
example, excessive faith in laboratory tests that are
known to be less than
perfect, or a notion that Lyme is not a problem in a
given region-can be in
the face of the evidence at hand. The lesson for me is
clear: In this, like
everything else in the outdoors, we must learn to
watch out for our own
safety. At least for now.

Copyright Rodale, Inc. 2006

[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

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lipanz · medicine forum addict Joined: 19 Jun 2005 Posts: 62

In the simplest terms, Why cure something like
arthritis (usually some sort of infection), when you
can treat someone forever?

RIGHT KATHLEEN - IT'S OK FOR THOSE RHEUMATOLOGISTS TO KEEP GIVING THE
STERIODS, EMBRELS, REMICADE METHOLTREXATE ETC. THESE DRUGS ARE
EXTREMELY DANGEROUS ESP THE LAST THREE. AND THE STEROIDS SUPPRESSING
THE IMMUNE SYSTEM. YES BUT NO PROBLEM THE INSURANCE COS. KEEP PAYING
& PAYING FOR THAT.
YET THAT CREEPY SIGAL SITS ON HIS CHAIR WITH HIS BRIEFCASE (THE TODAY
SHOW 7 AM) 6 MIN & SAYS ANTIBIOTICS ARE POISONS. WHAT ABOUT THAT BS HE
DISHES OUT.

Newsgroup Leader Kathleen ActionLyme wrote:

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