The couple couldn’t quite remember when the 61-year-old man started to get sick. Was it before he retired the previous spring? No — it was later, the man insisted. But both men agreed that they knew something was seriously wrong the day the recent retiree fell going up the stairs. He was carrying his new laptop when his right leg suddenly buckled. If he hadn’t had the computer, he might have been able to catch himself. Instead, holding his new machine aloft, he fell forward and slid down a couple of steps. He scraped his shins and forearms; blood seeped from the shallow wounds. And he was too weak to get up. “I need help,” he called to his partner upstairs. The man, already on his feet after hearing the thump, appeared almost instantly at his side.
He hefted his partner to his feet and half-carried him into the upstairs bathroom. “You really need to call your doctor,” he murmured as he dabbed the scrapes. He had been urging him to do this for weeks, ever since he noticed how easily his partner bruised, how strangely thin his skin looked. And there were other changes. He was quieter. His easy laugh had all but disappeared. Most worrisome, he seemed confused and forgetful; sometimes he didn’t make sense. They had been together for more than 40 years; the man knew his partner well. These changes scared him.
By the time the man agreed to see the doctor, he could barely move the leg that gave way on the stairs. His walk was an awkward shuffle, and he had to hold on to his partner as they made their way from the car to the medical center in Durham, Conn. The doctor on duty that day basically took one look at the bruised and limping man and sent him to Yale New Haven Hospital. At the very least the patient was going to need a scan. He would probably need more.
In the emergency room, a physical exam revealed that the muscles in his right thigh weren’t working at all. And the skin there was numb. His blood chemistries were out of whack — his potassium dangerously low. An M.R.I. of his entire spine provided no answers. He lived in a wooded area, not far from Lyme. Had he noticed a tick bite? Or a rash? No bites, but a friend had pointed out a rash earlier that summer. It was in a spot he couldn’t see, though, and he just forgot about it. A blood test and then a spinal tap confirmed the diagnosis: He had Lyme disease. Both men felt a shudder of relief. He would need a full month of antibiotics, but once he was treated, he should get better.
