Re: I wonder if Blumenthal could find out if this is true about McSweegan...


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Subject: Re: [SpinLyme] I wonder if Blumenthal could find out if this
is true about McSweegan...

Date: Tuesday, September 26, 2006 12:46:37 [View Source]

More on the anonymous internet harassment of Lyme victims- which is a
federal
crime:
http://groups.google.com/group/sci.med.diseases.lyme/browse_frm/thread/e3434128f9b1acaf/e66a398e86657054?q=I+hear+he+is+hung+like+a+horse&rnum=5#e66a398e86657054
http://www.actionlyme.org/CHUCK_NANCY_BLOWJOB.htm


This is the crap we have to put up with in addition to all the other
crap, and
it is BLUMENTHAL's job to protect children, including children with
Lyme
disease.

It's pretty LAME of Blumenthal to DO NOTHING about it.


Kathleen M. Dickson
--
http://www.actionlyme.org


-------------- Original message ----------------------
From: kmdickson@xxxxxxxxxxx

http://www.freespeech.com/index.php?/S=b39f6f61ecefb842cf77f0e8a91c73ba29cf1f54/weblog/comments/6751/

NIH's Edward McSweegan is "hung like a horse"

We'll just have to take his friend "Chuck's" word for it, since we
don't have access to such biotech FRAUD insider information.
http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2003/06/26/eveningnews/main560528.shtml

Edward McSweegan is NIH's Infamous "man with no work"- a story on CBS
news.

As you can see the bogus LYMErix vaccine was all Ed's idea:
http://www.actionlyme.org/GOLDWATER_LETTER.htm

That's Ed's famous letter to Senator Barry Goldwater, where Ed harassed
the
Department of the Navy so badly, the Navy has to turn over their vector-borne
diseases as bioweapons work to SmithKline- who probably paid McSweegan to
harass
the Navy.

Nevertheless, we don't know anything about Ed being hung like a horse, but
we
do know he was at the FDA's LYMErix hearing in Jan 2001, and this is what he
said about my presentation, where I explain to the FDA in their own terms,
that
LYMErix was never proven to be a vaccine, since the testing for Lyme is
deliberately bogus:
http://www.actionlyme.org/McSweegan_Stalking_Feb_2001_38a561b9b28962b5.htm

Here is my testimony (part of it) to the FDA, as an analytical chemist,
explaining that since the testing for Lyme is bogus, we don't know if
LYMErix
prevented Lyme- it did not, which is why the testing for Lyme is bogus:
http://www.fda.gov/ohrms/dockets/ac/01/slides/3680s2_11.pdf

Below the fold is McSweegan's sicko story, meant to discredit mothers of
children with congenital Lyme disease, which my kids have:
http://www.actionlyme.org/Schoen.htm

McSweegan is clearly a psychopath, but, by all means, read what goes on in his
very sick head:

Read More...

Obsession

By Edward McSweegan

Honorable Mention

"Are you back online with those crazies?"

"They're not crazy. And neither am I."

"Well, you're making me crazy. And the kids."

I listened to his angry exhale. I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck
as
I stared at the computer screen. My skin is super-sensitive since the disease
started.

He said, "The kids are in bed, in case you manage to drag yourself away from
that online loony bin."

I listened to his feet stomp into our bedroom.

The kids are fine. He's fine too. But I'm not. Doesn't he understand
that?
It hurts just to sit here and type out my messages to the group. I don't
know
what I'll do if I can't type anymore. Who will I talk to about this
endless
nightmare?

I shouldn't say that. Frank was a good husband. He went with me to the
doctors. I had all the symptoms. I still do. There's fever, sweats, chills,
sore throat, upset stomach, shortness of breath, joint pain, headaches, eye
floaters, confusion, forgetfulness..., confusion, irritability--that's
mostly
Frank's fault--tremors and exhaustion. I think there are more. They come and
go.

The first doctor I saw didn't have a clue. He poked and prodded and asked
about the flu.

"It's June. Who gets the flu in June?" I asked.

"It happens," he said from behind the barricade of his desk.

I tried most of the doctors in town. None of them knew what they were doing.
None of them made a diagnosis I could accept.

***

On grocery day, I was still wondering why I felt so bad when I overheard two
women talking about Lyme disease and the ticks the older woman said she kept
finding in her yard. I backed out of line with my cart.

"Excuse me," I said. "What were you saying about those ticks?"

"Oh, it's dreadful, dear. Nasty, blood-sucking creatures. Then you get all
those horrible complications that never go away. The doctors never manage to
diagnose it," she said. "It's a nightmare."

I was so excited. I grabbed her arm as if she might suddenly disappear.
"Yes,
I think I have that." I told her about all my symptoms and the doctors'
silly ideas about flu and aging.

"My dear, they have no idea." She waved a dismissive hand. "You need an
expert."

"And you need the right information to make sure they give you the right
antibiotics," said the other woman.

"Where can I...?"

"The Internet. There is a whole community of wonderful patients who can help
you get the right treatments for this awful thing."

She scribbled some Web addresses on the corner of her grocery list, tore off
the
paper and handed it to me. "You check here before you waste more time with
those HMO docs. We have to help ourselves, dear. Keep in touch."

Well, she was right. I found everything on the Internet. Some victims had
posted
their symptoms, a do-it-yourself diagnostic survey, and heart-breaking stories
about ruined health and indifferent doctors. Now I didn't feel so alone.

***

Frank took me to another doctor and I got the Lyme blood tests. All the tests
came back negative, but I knew they would. The Internet sites said the tests
were inaccurate so you had to rely on how you felt.

The doctor shook his head and said I was wrong. "Online chat rooms and
newsgroups are not reliable medical sources. You shouldn't listen to
faceless
strangers just because they're agreeable and accessible through a
computer."

I saw Frank nodding in agreement. I think that was when he decided I was
obsessed. That was so unfair of him. All I wanted was to feel better again.

Driving home, he said, "Honey, none of the doctors can find any evidence
that
this is Lyme. They did the blood work. I think we need to re-focus and ask
what
else it could be."

"No. The tests are unreliable. The Internet says you can be seronegative."

"Then why'd you take 'em in the first place?" He raked his fingers
through his "Look, a pregnancy test isn't always reliable either. But you
take five of them and if they're all negative it's safe to say you're
not
pregnant. Right?"

He had that nodding, eager look on his face. I could see he was hoping I would
just agree. But I couldn't. Other people failed the tests and still had
Lyme.
I knew I did too. "I'm not pregnant," I said. We drove home in silence.

***

The doctor refused to write me a script for antibiotics. I'd already used
all
the antibiotics I got from the all the others. It's so outrageous having to
beg for the medicine you need to get well. Lucky for me, someone in Lyme Chat
said you could buy antibiotics online. They were for aquarium fish, but so
what.
I bought three hundred dollars worth before Frank saw the credit card bills
and
went ballistic.

A week later, Frank suggested we see a specialist at the university hospital.

Well, he seemed nice enough. He read through my charts and asked me about my
lab
work. I didn't tell him about the aquarium antibiotics.

He made a temple of his fingers and said, "You know, these ticks are clever
little vampires. They have tiny saw-toothed heads to cut through your skin and
burrow in." He jabbed two fingers onto the desktop. "Then they secrete a
cement that holds them in place. That's why they're so hard to pull out.
Now
once they get themselves anchored they release various chemicals to dampen
your
immune system and keep your blood from coagulating."

I felt faint.

"And the bacteria they sometimes carry, they're sort of shaped like
microscopic worms or snakes. A lot of people imagine these things wiggling
through their skin and corkscrewing into their nerves and joints."

I scratched at a sudden itch on my arm.

"These can be very powerful and disturbing images for many people. Sometimes
they can be overwhelming, even when there is no tick. No parasite. No
bacteria."

"What?" I asked. "You mean, not real?"

He drummed his fingers on his desk. "It's a condition called 'delusional
parasitosis'. Lyme disease fits this paradigm for a lot of people: some of
whom are often so desperate for a physical explanation to an illness when, in
fact, it may be more appropriate to explore an emotional or psychiatric...."

I was out of my chair and out the door before he finished telling me I was
nuts.
In the car, I screamed at Frank for tricking me. "I'm not crazy."

"Look, you need help," he pleaded. "You need to get well. Who cares how
that happens as long as it happens? Those hypochondriacs on the Internet are
just re-enforcing your belief in something no one else can see."

"Then I'll have to show you," I said.

***

On Saturday, I got myself out of the house and drove over to the kids'
school.
Where the playground backed up to the woods, I unfolded one of our queen-size
white sheets and dragged it over the uncut grass. I saw a tick expert do this
on
the Discovery Channel. Then I turned the *** over.

"There they are." I started laughing. Reluctantly, I knelt down and
counted
the tiny black dots clinging to my ***. I used a stiff blade of grass to
flick
the little monsters into an old baby food jar. I jammed the lid and hurried
home.

I showered and shampooed. Then I went into our backyard with a fresh white
***; I had to throw the first one away. How could I ever sleep on it again?
I
dragged the *** around the yard until I found a tick. Thank God we didn't
have as many as the school. I showered again, threw away the other
contaminated
***, and waited for Frank to come home.

When he came in I waved the jar in his face and said, "Here's your proof.
We're infested."

He took the jar and peered at it. "What's this?"

"Ticks. Nymphal ticks. The kind that infect you. They're loaded with Lyme
bacteria and God knows what else."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. I'll spray some pesticide if you're
afraid of the backyard. Is there any dinner or do we have to eat ticks?"

I stormed upstairs and got back online to tell my fellow victims about the
ticks
I found.

Later, Frank came upstairs to nag me about my Internet sessions, but I ignored
him. After he went to bed I found my jar of ticks in the kitchen and brought
it
upstairs.

The boys were asleep. I straightened out their sheets and blankets. I know I
haven't been the best mother to them lately. But I'm so tired from having
to
fight this disease alone. I need help.

I unscrewed the jar's lid and sprinkled the ticks into their hair.

Someone has to listen to me.



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