Dear Sir,
I am writing this to make everyone here at Lakeside aware of Lyme Disease. That is caused by tic bites. It is here at Lakeside, and I got bitten four years ago while trimming our bougainvillae.
In Canada, May is Lyme Awareness Month, and Niagara Falls, the CN Tower and the Ambassador Bridge will all be lit up in green (like pink for breast cancer) at different intervals.
With little awareness or understanding several years ago, no doctor diagnosed my condition, despite the telltale ‘Bull’s Eye’ rash on my arm at the bite site. I felt nothing, but the next morning, could not move, due to terrible pain and stiffness in my joints, even my jaw did not come together properly. We finally went to Germany and I was properly tested and diagnosed with Lyme disease. They say that Lyme is growing faster than AIDS! Then it was a matter of strong antibiotics for 8 months (representing the time I went undiagnosed). Thanks to Dr. Lastra here at Lakeside, I was able to get the antibiotics, as the doctors up north are penalized for prescribing for more than a couple of weeks! I still suffered arthritis-like symptoms, chronic fatigue, etc. but I now get a non-steroid shot once a month, and the pain all but disappears, as well as the fatigue. I am writing this just to make everyone aware that the tics travel on the migrating birds now from the north, and we do have Lyme disease here at Lakeside. Dr. Lastra has two other patients right now that he is treating. Be aware when gardening, etc. to wear long sleeves, long pants and gloves!
It is suggested that we tie green ribbons (or anything you can find in green to cut up) around our trees during the month of May Awareness of Lyme Disease. If anyone wants further information, contact me at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..">This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..
Noreen Klupsch
Dear Sir,
Imagine living your life, content with the parents that raised you, comfortable in the knowledge that this is how life was supposed to be. Now, imagine that family foundation is rocked by the revelation that all is not as it seems.
That is the life I have now come to know. Other than the information of who I am that I gave to the newspaper, I remain anonymous, and so do the loving people who raised me, and the doctor who signed off on a birth certificate that established my date of birth and place of birth in a time and place where it never happened.
That doctor has died, my mother, the one that changed my diapers, cleaned my nose, wiped my tears and shared in the joys of my life, raising me to be the man I am now, died in 2002. She had been the first to broach the subject of the reality of my birth. My dad, now in his late 80s, also has filled in some of the blanks that he got from my uncle.
My tie to Guadalajara? My uncle said that the woman who chose to give me life, instead of aborting me, came to the border city of Ciudad Juarez, Chihuahua, probably in her late teens, more than likely afraid, but knowing in her heart that the child soon to be born was a child she couldn’t raise ... at least not by herself. My uncle offered to marry her, but she politely declined. He then told her that his brother and his wife (my mom and dad), wanted a child, since they couldn’t have children themselves.
So, a little red haired boy came into the world on March 9, 1960, in a hospital in Juarez, where his soon to be tio, Francisco, worked as an orderly. I don’t know whether my birth mother hugged me, or gave me a kiss goodbye ... if she didn’t, I don’t blame her ... it couldn’t have been easy to make the decision.
So, why do I look now? Why write to a newspaper in the city where I was more than likely conceived? After seeing my grandson, and his little shock of red hair that more than likely echoed my own, I wanted to take that smallest of chances that my birth mother was still alive, hoping that I could get medical family history, so I could tell doctors the right things. So I could say thank you for making a very hard decision over 55 years ago to give a baby a chance at life.
So, if anyone knows of a woman who went off 55 years ago, and whispered of the baby she gave up, maybe it’s me. I had red hair and freckles, so my heritage is possibly Irish. I know that my birth mother was from Guadalajara, and she met Francisco, my uncle, at the hospital in Juarez where I was born.
Why not give my name? Because, there will be a bureaucrat who will go after me for actions I had nothing to do with, for information I didn’t know about until recently.
Sometimes, life hands you a crazy situation ... in this case, I hope that I find the simple thread that is a part of the fabric of my life.
Name withheld by request. Contact: This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..">This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..