The Confounding Debate Over Lyme Disease
in the South
The
debilitating tick-borne disease is well-documented north of the Mason-Dixon
line, but does it exist beyond that?
Kerry Clark never wanted to show that
Lyme disease exists in the Southern United States by catching it himself.
Clark is a medical entomologist at the
University of North Florida in Jacksonville. A wiry man with graying brown
hair, he is most at home in a kayak on the ponds behind the wooded Jacksonville
campus. He jogs and lifts weights, when he is well enough to do so.
Clark has spent years all over the
South crawling through underbrush and kicking up leaf litter to collect ticks
that transmit infections. Despite innumerable tick bites, Clark never had a
medical problem until the day he dragged for ticks in the town of Fayetteville,
a suburb south of Atlanta.
Clark was giving a talk on Lyme disease
at a gathering of the Dougherty County Medical Society in Albany, Ga., where he
met Fayetteville resident Liz Schmitz, president of the Georgia Lyme Disease
Association. When he heard how many people from Schmitz’s town had been
sickened after tick bites, he agreed to come up and investigate.
As Clark dragged for ticks with a white
flannel cloth on a pole, hungry, aggressive lone star females with their
distinctive white spots seemed to burst out. In less than an hour, he had
collected hundreds of adults and younger nymphs. He remembers one practically
leaping from the cloth onto his finger. And that, Clark guesses, is when a lone
star tick nestled in his hair. When Clark found it several days later, it had
already deposited its bacterial load into his body.
Since that day almost three years ago,
Clark has been suffering from what he describes as intermittent pounding
headaches, fatigue, odd twitches and “fuzziness.” He reports that weeks-long
courses of antibiotics make him feel better, but when he goes off the drugs,
the symptoms return.
Clark is not alone. Other people from
suburban communities around Georgia — and many other areas of the Southeast —
report getting sick from what seems like tick-borne illness, too.
A man in his 50s from Fayette County
who prefers not to use his name developed severe neurological symptoms after a
tick bite. Initially his right foot dragged, and he couldn’t use his right arm
at all. He was diagnosed with the lethal neurodegenerative disease ALS (for
amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease.) ALS
gradually kills off motor neurons, causing progressive paralysis. It initially
leaves patients weakened, then in a wheelchair, and then, within a few years,
unable to eat or breathe.
The last specialist sent him home to
die. But after talking with Schmitz, the man sent Clark samples of his blood.
Using polymerase chain reaction (PCR) testing to analyze fragments of foreign
DNA in the man’s blood, Clark found evidence of Borrelia burgdorferi,
the pathogen that causes Lyme disease. Now on antibiotics, the Fayette County man
says he feels better than he has in years, and the rapid downward trajectory
common to almost all ALS patients seems to have stalled.
Clark also tested his own blood, where
he found traces of B. burgdorferi along with another distinct
genospecies (a bacterial species separated by divergence of genes), Borrelia
andersonii, usually found in rabbits.
There is just one
problem with this story: Many Lyme researchers, including some from the
National Institutes of Health (NIH) and the Centers for Disease Control and
Prevention (CDC), won’t believe a word of it. There is little or no true Lyme
disease anywhere in the South, say these experts.
They cite plenty of evidence: In the
Northeast, where Lyme is endemic, the disease is spread by nymphs (the
tick’s juvenile form) of Ixodes scapularis, commonly known as
blacklegged ticks. Blacklegged nymphs rarely bite humans down South, though
researchers don’t agree as to why not. Adult blacklegged ticks do bite people,
but because of their large size, they’re often noticed and picked off before
they spread disease.
So if there is Lyme — or Lyme-like
illness — in the South, what could be spreading it? The aggressive lone star
tick, Amblyomma americanum, which frequently bites people as
well as other animals, is a prime suspect. In the early 1990s, researchers
realized its bite could cause a roundish, gradually spreading mottled red rash
that was a virtual ringer for the erythema migrans (EM) rash, the classic
signature of Lyme disease in the Northeast.
But since few Lyme experts believe that
the lone star can harbor and transmit Lyme Borrelia, the rash the
tick leaves upon biting is never attributed to Lyme disease. Instead, in the
South, the illness is called STARI, for Southern Tick-Associated Rash Illness.
According to microbiologist Barbara Johnson, one of the top Lyme disease
experts at the CDC’s Division of Vector-Borne Diseases in Fort Collins, Colo.,
STARI is relatively benign, presenting only with the rash and flulike symptoms
of early Lyme. Its cause remains unknown.
And this is where the CDC and
researchers like Clark and his colleagues part ways: Clark recognizes that Lyme
disease transmitted by blacklegged ticks is relatively infrequent in the South.
But he believes that lone star ticks can transmit a similar spiral-shaped
bacterium or spirochete to the one that causes Lyme disease.
Other scientists disagree. While
strains of Borrelia burgdorferi can be found in the South,
says Jean Tsao, a Lyme researcher from Michigan State University, there is no
bridge between the natural and the human world. Instead, the disease cycles are
“cryptic,” meaning the spirochetes cycle quietly among ticks and animal hosts
but have virtually no effect on human health.
Getting to the truth here is critical —
especially to the thousands of patients who believe they suffer from some form
of Lyme disease acquired in the South. The confusion starts with the numbers.
No one has any clear idea how many STARI cases exist because, unlike Lyme in
the North, they are not reportable to state departments of health.
Gary Wormser, an infectious diseases
physician at New York Medical College and a recognized Lyme researcher, says
STARI is “pretty widespread in the Southeast and south central part of the
country.” Yet, Adriana Marques, chief of clinical infectious diseases at NIH,
launched a study of STARI in 2002, and enrolled only three suspected patients
over 10 years.
But Marcia Herman-Giddens, scientific
adviser for the Tick-Borne Infections Council of North Carolina, a research and
advocacy organization, says she can’t believe anyone actively looking for STARI
patients would come up with just three of them in a decade. Patients with Lyme
or Lyme-like illness in the South likely number in the thousands, she
says.
The dispute leaves
Southern patients who insist they have Lyme disease — or something much like it
— angry and adrift. Because few doctors recognize their illness, they say, they
are treated too late or not at all, and are allowed to slide into chronic
illness as debilitating as untreated Lyme disease in the North.
Legends of the North
That Lyme disease was
first thought confined to the northeastern United States may be historical
accident. Almost 50 years ago Polly Murray, an artist and mother from Lyme,
Conn., noticed a strange increase of juvenile arthritis, a rare and sometimes
disabling condition, among children living within a few blocks of her house. By
1975, she had launched a campaign to force doctors and scientists to figure out
why so many in her town had swollen knees and elbows, persistent fatigue,
difficulty concentrating, headaches and rashes, among a host of other symptoms.
Although Lyme
disease, under other names, had already been described in Europe for a century,
many public health experts initially thought the condition in Connecticut was
unique. The CDC dispatched a rheumatologist to investigate the mysterious
outbreak. That investigator, Allen Steere of Yale, initially described a
largely rheumatologic syndrome notable for swollen knees and rash. While Steere
later included meticulous descriptions of neurologic and cardiac manifestations
of Lyme in his reports, the view of American Lyme disease — unlike European
Lyme disease — as essentially rheumatologic persisted for years.
Another line of
research dovetailed with Steere’s work, locking Lyme disease into place as a
phenomenon of the Northeast. That work was conducted by Harvard entomologist
Andrew Spielman, who had spent years studying the malaria-like
parasite, Babesia, on Nantucket island off Cape Cod. By 1979, Spielman had
identified Babesia’stick vector, Ixodes dammini, as a creature
new to science.
I. dammini lived
only in the North, and only I. dammini could be Babesia’s
vector, Spielman said. When NIH entomologist Willy Burgdorfer discovered the
Lyme spirochete inside what he identified as I. scapularis ticks from
Fire Island, N.Y., in 1981, Spielman immediately claimed that those infected
ticks weren’t scapularis, butdammini as well. The ticks’ limited
range — the Northeast and the Midwest — restricted Lyme’s range too, and the
casebook on Southern Lyme slammed shut.
Spielman’s triumphant
discovery was short-lived: Ixodes dammini was torpedoed at the hands
of Spielman’s close friend, the Georgia entomologist and tick expert James H.
Oliver. Ensconced at Georgia Southern University in Statesboro, Oliver was
thinking hard about Spielman’s dammini tick, its identification and
its distribution. Today a tall, courtly Southern gentleman with high cheekbones
and a delicate frame, Oliver is known for building the National Tick Museum,
perhaps the most extensive tick collection and library in the world.
“When I started
working in this area, I was told, point blank, Lyme disease was not in the
South, and human Lyme disease could not occur — there were no ticks and no
germs,” he recalls. But he was not convinced that the blacklegged ticks in the
North and South differed much — or that Spielman’s discovery represented a
separate species at all.
In a series of
experiments from 1989-1990, Oliver demonstrated that so-called Northern deer
ticks (dammini) and the blacklegged ticks (scapularis) found up and down the
East Coast bit exactly the same animals in the lab. In 1992, he showed that
even ticks from widely separated areas like Georgia and Massachusetts were
genetically too similar to be different species. And breeding ticks from the
North and South in the lab, Oliver demonstrated that a series of matings
produced reliably fertile offspring — a crucial test of species boundaries.
Oliver’s definitive
experiments blew up the idea that dammini was a new or separate
species. The name dammini was dropped from the scientific literature.
But Spielman’s framework — restricting Lyme to the Northern ticks — remained
intact.
The notion that the
ticks in the North and the South were fundamentally different still lies at the
heart of the controversy over Southern Lyme. Oliver attributed most of those
differences to Southern heat: To avoid it,scapularis nymphs hide out under
leaf litter, biting lizards and small mammals instead of questing for larger
prey on tall grass or brush.
Lyme researcher Gary
Wormser saw the difference as more basic: “There’s no doubt that something
somewhat like the deer tick exists in the South; it’s called the same name
— Ixodes scapularis. But it has some differences in biological behavior
and has a low infection rate with Borrelia burgdorferi.” What did it
matter if the tick species were the same, if scapularis nymphs didn’t
bite people in the South?
Exceptions to
Spielman’s geographic rule ultimately emerged. By 1985, medical entomologist
Robert Lane of the University of California in Berkeley demonstrated
that B. burgdorferi was also carried by a West Coast tick
named Ixodes pacificus.
And in 1998, Mercer
University entomologist Alan Smith learned for himself that while reclusive
blacklegged nymphs might not often infect humans in the South, adults did.
Bitten by an adult tick in the Piedmont National Wildlife Refuge, a
forested area south of Atlanta, Smith developed an EM rash, which he regarded
with aplomb despite a low-grade fever and flulike symptoms. His physician
initially wanted to treat him with antibiotics. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary,”
Smith told his doctor. “The CDC says there’s no Lyme in Georgia.”
Within months, he was
nearly crippled. His wife dragged him back to the doctor, and he went on
antibiotics. He improved immediately. “There’s definitely Lyme in Georgia,” he
says now with a laugh. “It’s a lot of crap that blacklegged ticks don’t ever
bite people in the South.”
Unlike heat-fleeing
nymphs, scapularis adults do bite, but they’re easy to see and
remove. If there really are thousands of cases of Lyme in the South, both Clark
and Oliver say something else must be transmitting it: Amblyomma
americanum, the lone star tick. And it is on the back of this fierce,
ubiquitous, rapidly spreading tick that much of the mystery of Southern
Lyme-like illness rests.
The
entire link with images can be found at:
http://discovermagazine.com/2013/dec/14-southern-gothic
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