Dark Banquet - Bill Schutt [89]
The debate about chronic Lyme disease is still very much alive and there is abundant information out there from both sides of the fence.
I asked Dr. Yeh to clarify her position. “Do you think there are different strains of the pathogen?”
“There’s every indication,” she said. “It’s one of the things that makes testing for Lyme disease so difficult. Too many false negatives.”
I later learned that previous vaccination against Lyme disease, or prior treatment for syphilis or dental infections, could cause false positives by triggering an antibody response.
Suddenly, the withdrawal of the Lyme disease vaccine began to make sense.
“Is that what happened with Lymerix?” I asked.*138
“That’s one reason they stopped making it,” Dr. Yeh responded. “The vaccine was designed to target a specific outer surface protein in Borrelia burgdorferi, but changes in those proteins have produced different bacterial strains. As a result, the vaccine was never all that effective to begin with—something like 40 percent. Add that to the fact that it was always a niche market, with maybe ten thousand doses in the entire United States. And then there was the big controversy a few years ago about vaccinations of all kinds. Should we give them? Are they safe?”†139
“And it’s not like vaccines are the big moneymakers,” I chimed in, and Dr. Yeh nodded.
Just as my interview with her was coming to a close, Dr. Yeh said something that sent a chill down my back. “Yeah, well, that moneymaking thing might change pretty quickly if bird flu ever evolves into something humans can pass off to each other.”
And at that point, I realized that there was nothing left to say.
Very small, but solely preoccupied with doing harm.
—Paul Le Cointe
9.
CANDIRU
with a Capital C and That Rhymes with P
Several years ago I was involved in teaching a course at Long Island University that took twenty undergrads on a riverboat excursion up the Brazilian Amazon. We’d been in Manaus for three days, having spent the previous week at a rough-hewn research station called Kilometer 41,*140 and by the time we pulled into Manaus, we were all ready for a dose of civilization. The city was hot and crowded, but the food (and beer) were wonderful and the open-air markets were fascinating—the bounty of the Amazon River on display in all its unrefrigerated glory. On the afternoon of our third day in Manaus, we checked out of our hotel and hauled our gear and belongings down to the harbor. There were boats of every size and shape lined up for what seemed likes miles, and I was reminded of the activity around a particularly busy anthill. Cargo was unloaded (all of it by hand) and replaced by throngs of people (all of whom seemed to be having a pretty good time). Fruit, fish, and vegetables of every size and shape were carried up a steep set of stairs that led to the city and its markets. Finally, we located the boat that was to be our home for two weeks. Gleaming white against the muddy and polluted water, the Victoria Amazonica was an eighty-foot riverboat with fourteen private cabins (each with showers and AC). In other words: we would no longer be roughing it.
Our captain was Moacir Fortes, the renowned Amazon guide. Mo was high octane, sharp as a stingray barb, and funnier than hell. After boarding the Victoria Amazonica, we stowed our gear and headed for a large centrally located room that would become a combination dining room/meeting place and indoor lounge. Captain Mo arrived shortly thereafter to address the group. He began