Our Cat Allergic Family Got Siberian Cats

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Our Family and our Siberian Cat Adventures...

Early 2000:

"Mom, I really want a cat." My almost 8 yr. old was troubled and I thought he needed extra support. He was virtually an only child, with a brother in his 20's living on the other side of country. I was chronically ill and had gotten sicker. His grandmother who lives with us had been very sick and was slowly recovering, and his dad had had life threatening surgical complications . His only grandfather had died in the past year. He was having real problems in school. The poor guy himself was sick. He needed some unconditional and healthy love.

"Don't you think a dog would be more fun?"

"No, I want a cat. And if I got a dog I only want one of those big dog that pulls sleds."

Now, his older brother and I were allergic to cats. But on the other hand his grandmother didn't want a dog in the garden. I had already tried to talk to her once about getting Jamie a dog and she had said unconditionally "NO!" And she had spent a lifetime working like a dog herself to help get this family to where it is today (well educated !). She deserves an old age where she can enjoy her garden the way she wants to. Besides, Jamie's older brother is allergic to dogs too. We live where it gets hot in the summer. Huskies don't seem like the right breed. And we' re still allergic to cats. I forgot about all about the problem. That was just plain old easier.

Jamie was still under lots of stress. Tough times and more for him. I was sick enough I had to tell him I couldn't take him to family camp this summer . School was hard for him. "Mom, I really really want a cat of my own."

I used to do medical research. I got on the net, and started searching for info about cat allergies. I knew of treatment possibilities in the pipeline back when I was working. Maybe one of them had panned out. Nope, a general search engine kept getting crudded up with people talking about their Siberian cats. I shifted to PubMed and looked. Sadly, no hope along either line I had known of, nor any new lines I hadn't known of. One possibility had died completely, and one was still very experimental. There was no way to get into clinical trials any time in the near future.

So I went back to read what all these folks had written about their Siberian cats. There were enough responses that it was really impressive. I wasn't sure what to make of that, so I tried a search on dog allergies. I got a few hits each for several breeds, but nothing like this general outpouring for Siberian cats. I searched around til I found the report from Indoor Biotechnologies. It's there, but it isn't all that strong. (I've written a page explaining allergies and Siberians and current state of knowledge - here is the link to it) .

But my child stilled needed more than I could supply. I looked for a cattery I could visit, and that his far-off brother could visit. I found one his brother could get to with a two hour drive. I never did find one I could get to, but I eventually got a small small fur sample mailed to me. Taping it next to my nose didn't bother me. Taping it next to my eyes didn't bother me .

Next was locating a kitten. I looked for every cattery I could find. Problems here and there kept coming up. Then the most wonderful thing happened ! Jamie's "Fairy Godmother" beloved Aunt Janey said she would bring him a Siberian kitten from Eastern Europe when she went there next. As she is an acclaimed international scholar specializing in Eastern Europe, this would happen soon. She travels there a few times a year.

Somehow this escalated to a pair of breeding quality Siberian kittens chosen by a veterinarian who is a friend of hers from Eastern Europe when she went in June . An incredible gift! God bless her forever for this.

Getting the kittens took her precious time when she was very busy. But they were adored by all who saw them, and prompted others who had allergic grandchildren to get them kittens as well. The circle of care expands. But bringing them back was a comedy of errors.

She had tickets for the kittens from American Airlines, & a cat carrier we had bought her folded up in her luggage. American stopped transporting cats after June 6 for fear of the belly of the plane getting to hot over the hot tarmac. Her ticket went before June 6 but returned after. They refused to allow the little Siberian kittens in the plane. When my husband called American to check and make sure there would be no problems, they flagged her ticket that she had been told she could not take the kittens home with her.

Warned, she went to Polish Air with whom she was starting her return flight with two kittens and bought a second set of tickets for them all the way to California. When Polish Air finished their leg in Paris, the American agent told her to let the kittens go in the middle of Charles de Gaulle Airport if she wanted to get on her plane home. Fortunately our Janey is made of sterner stuff! Waving the confirmed tickets in front of her, she eventually got transferred to a different airline where the kittens had their own seat. They were so cute the stewardesses wanted to walk the aisles with the little Siberian kittens on their shoulders, and they were the hit of the plane. Of course.

So our Siberian kittens actually had two sets of tickets paid to come to America. We never got our money back from American for their first set of tickets!

We met her in San Francisco, a tired slender woman holding a big box that we didn't recognize-a big box full of love. (Not the cat carrier we had gotten! ) Inside were our two adorable kittens: a beautiful black that felt like silk , and a golden kitty that shown in the sun. Jamie was glowing with joy. We drove our tired wonderful Aunt Janey home, and took our babies home. The kittens got loose in the van of course, but caused no major hazard, and we loved getting to know them. We took them upstairs where we had a cat box for them. They climbed into the litter gratefully. I pulled the rags out of their carrier. Only then did I notice the rags were clean. The poor kitties in there for over 24 hours had kept their home clean and waited for a proper litter box. What good clean smart little kitties they were!

They had just been seen by a vet, but of course we took them to one too. Which vet? Well there was a board certified feline specialist near us ( a relatively rare qualification). Clearly the best I could find for Jamie's precious Siberian kittens. Inspected, they were in perfect health. Tested, they were indeed FIV and FLV negative, just as had been promised. Gorgeous healthy kitties.

What to feed them? The vet said only name brand food kitten for the dry food . I pressed him harder and made him name the brands he considered acceptable , and wrote them down. Then like the thrifty Scotch woman I am, I chose the cheapest. Cats are obligate carnivores, so a (far away) friend who is a vet tech coached me to choose wet food with the highest amount of meat or fish without byproducts. My poor husband patiently read every single can of cat food in the whole store. Well maybe not every can, but every type, including every different flavor. A good thing - it turns out white fish with gravy has a very different amount of meat by products than white fish and tuna in the same brand. But there were only two cans in the whole store that had meat and fish only as the first two ingredients. We found them after a half hour of can reading.

Our little Siberian kittens both learned rapidly they were Jamie's kittens. They loved Jamie wholeheartedly, and would follow Jamie from room to room, miaowing at a closed door if he went behind it. When he left for school in the morning, they followed him to the door, then ran to the window to watch him walk down the porch steps and out the yard. They ran to greet him when he returned. They both slept under the covers with him at night, usually one against his back and one in his arms.

Jamie loved both of his kitties, but for some reason he bonded quickly and tightly with Ginevra. Maybe it was because after observing them for the first day, I commented that she was a "little kitty genius". She was the smartest kitten I had ever seen, and it was obvious right away. She learned her boundaries instantly, found the easiest way up to his high bed when it was past her jumping strength, and in all things seemed to take only a minute to understand. However, understanding and compliance are two different things . She complies with exactly as much as she wants to or has to, nothing else.

She is incredibly playful, and rapidly taught Jamie her favorite game. She loves to play fetch. Not with the catnip mice or the little soft balls. Those are hers to play with on the skidding hardwood floors alone. What she wants Jamie for is her special toy. Rubber bands. She wants him to shoot a rubber band, nice and hard across the hardwood floors so she can fling herself across them, skid hard into the stairs or beyond and grab it to run back to him. Fortunately Jamie is a good learner. For Ginevra at least.

In return she is a good learner for him. Not for me, as you will see below, but for him. He tends to pick her up like a baby when he comes home from school and stick his face in her belly fur to "meld". I don't know where he learned that word. He doesn't watch Star Trek, he doesn't even watch TV. When he is upset about anything, he runs to her to meld. One day he was sent home from school. I called him to the family room to talk to me. I was being gentle but he was so upset he could hardly speak as he sat on a barstool facing me. Ginevra came running from a different room, climbed on the barstool next to him, and for a rare occasion (first?) miaowed insistently at him, till he picked her up and buried his face in her. She knew what he needed.

Imagine his surprise when shedding season arrived and he looked up from melding to say, "Mom, my mouth is full of hair!!" I informed him that for a change, he would have to comb his cats, until the end of the shedding season.

When I was younger, I had cats in spite of the allergies and just took allergy medicine and lived with the annoying symptoms. (I can no longer do this.) I've loved cats a long time and had several. Our Siberian cats are definitely the smartest I've ever known. We taught both of them to use the toilet. I loved it, just flush if it smells bad. Ginevra however, after demonstrating perfect ability, decided she didn't like this, and chose the corner behind our clawfoot bathtub. She won, no contest. For Jamie, she would do anything, but this clearly was pleasing me, not Jamie. Why bother.

Rubber bands are still a great favorite of hers. She will search a wastebasket if she has seen someone open a newspaper near it. She knows where rubber bands come from. When her first kittens were small, Jamie found a giant rubber band and gave it to her. She adored it, thought it the most wonderful toy she had ever been given. She kept it in the nest with her kittens, and would tuck it back in after she had it out to play. She has trained her kittens to play with rubber bands also, but not as vigilantly as she does.

Sunshine, is not only smart, but has the cat world's biggest superego. He was not only faithful about using the toilet, but stops any behavior for a " No Sunshine". This includes spraying in the house, amazing for an unaltered male cat. Thank heavens! It even extends to approaching Ginevra when she is in heat. Poor kitty, he is so confused as she flaunts herself at him and we are running to separate them. But her only break between pregnancies will be because we can stop him with a word. Now that they have identified that for some unknown reason we don't want them to do what comes naturally, they head for another room trying to do this without ever letting us know she is in heat . (I said they were smart!) It's going to be a challenge, but so far we are ahead on this one.

Ginevra is a sultry thing, though. She comes in heat every few days in warm weather when we aren't breeding her. As I followed one of those escapades, intent on putting one of them in Jamie's room, I saw her stalking him, and him backing away guiltily. She advanced tail up, he retreated. She advanced , he retreated. The true meaning of femme fatale was displayed here in action , and never was one so sultry. And there he was, striving to back away as tail up, she flaunted herself. He REALLY TRIES to be a good kitty.

Sunshine's true name could have been adventure kitty when he was little. First he tried a heroic jump while still a little guy from our first landing three feet up and four feet over onto our hard wood floor and went skidding . As small kittens we kept them upstairs with a 30" wall at the stair rail . Next Sunshine jumped over this onto the carpeted landing 9 feet below, then onto the hardwood floor 12 feet below. It terrified all of us, but he got up from hitting his chin in the landing and walked away apparently unhurt . We decided it was time to not have that wall any more. My anxiety level was too high, even if his wasn't.

Like Ginevra, he was very playful. While her favorite special toy was a rubber band, his was a balloon. We had a five-foot scratching post in the center of the living room when they were kittens. When Jamie brought home a mylar balloon with a bell at the bottom of the string to hold it down, and left it in the living room it would usually drift vaguely near the scratching post. Sunshine would run blithely to the top of the scratching post, lean waaay out to reach the string with a paw and snag it in to where he could grab it next to the mylar in his teeth, then run down to the floor to play with his balloon. It was unfailingly amusing to me. What an amazing kitten!

Later as a big cat he had one last, unexpected adventure, which shook me up. Lying on Jamie's window ledge against the screen, the screen fell out. Jamie came running past me, yelling "Sunshine fell out!" Sure enough there he was in the front yard, with the window screen. Amazingly appearing unhurt, with a soft un-tender belly and no tender bones, he walked and behaved normally. But mom wants all the windows opened at the top now.

Now his adventures are confined to leaping onto the highest piece of furniture in the house (8 foot Irish bookcase) or sneaking out the front door where he freezes on the porch for us to pick him up. Other than that he is the most nurturing cat I have known. When Jamie excludes Sunshine in his wholehearted adoration of Ginevra, Sunshine comes to me and cuddles, lying on my shoulder while I use my laptop. This has wonderful side benefits. When I needed hot packs on my shoulder, he came and just lay there. Best hot pack I' ve ever had. Ginevra will come running to Jamie when he is upset, but Sunshine knows when I am hurting if I don't make a sound and comes to lie down with me.

The spring that Jamie's Siberian cats were a year old, I had substantial medical problems and was at home and in pain. Jamie had medical problems too . We hadn't intended to breed immediately, but Jamie was sick, crying about his stomach hurting, and vomiting. Ginevra came into heat, and Sunshine was mounting her. I could run after Jamie as he headed for the bathroom, or run after the cats. For better or for worse, I chose Jamie.

So it was that spring that we had our first litter of tiny Siberian kittens. They were born in a delivery box in our living room with Jamie and I watching . Ginevra oblingly waited silently until 7 a.m. to go into labor, then would not stop talking about the excitement. She really wanted to deliver in out downstairs closet and was quite upset when we talked her out of that, by sealing off both the doors, and the usual open access point. Then she was willing to consider the box we had prepared for her. It was the right size, lined with newspaper as directed. Unfortunately, I had misread (a little brainfog here) the direction that said "Allow her to shred the newspaper if she will." and somehow thought it said "Shred the newspaper." We had prepared two large cans of handshredded newspaper. Initially it was nice and soft, but when she started to have discharge and blood, it clung to everything . First we pulled out wet piece by wet piece of shredded newspaper sticking to her. Then I finally thought to check the book. I was almost too embarrassed to fess up to Jamie. But it was necessary, so I explained. We got rid of all that shredded newspaper, and got non-shredded newspaper for Ginevra that wouldn't stick to Ginevra's moist hindquarters. She delivered all her kittens in excellent health by 10:05, allowing Jamie to make it school in time for morning recess.

Jamie and I watched them being born together. We watched them constantly first two days to make sure they were gaining weight and warm enough and breathing okay. By day their third day, the kittens and Ginevra were ready to be moved from their delivery suite to their nest, a cat carrier next to a basket where we could bring them out for inspection. I wanted them in a basket where we could see them all the time, but Ginevra disagreed with me. When we put them there she had hysterics and tried to move them into deep cover. She was satisfied with her familiar cat carrier instead, until a visitor tried to handle the kittens. Then she snuck into our bedroom when we were in the tub. She is normally not allowed there, and we spotted her as we got out, and chased her out. At 5:30 the next morning my sleepy husband exited our bedroom to have Ginevra charge between his legs to get in. This prompted some thinking. "Henri, count the kittens," I called. There was only one in the kitten nest. Sure enough deep in our closet the rest of the kittens had spent the night without momma, and so quietly that they never woke us.

We watched with delight when they could finally open their eyes. Then we waited impatiently for each new trick. We learned each kitten's personality as they struggled to get out of the nest into the kitten basket, and then out of the basket into the living room. Who is the great explorer, who likes Jamie best, who likes me best, who is cuddliest, who is gentlest, who is most playful. What a delight to find this out.

There was the moment a litter box became living room furnishings. Fortunately it only took a word to teach Ginevra and Sunshine they were not allowed to use the luxuriously located new litter box, but still had to truck off to the old one. Then suddenly there were kittens all over the house. No confining them could be done. Well at least the litter box could be moved out of the living room. I went and bought a playpen for future litters. I've learned a lesson here. Each of us spent all the time we could with the new kittens. Jamie begged to sleep in the living room to be with his kittens.

Sunshine was totally bemused with that litter of kittens. At first he was not sure what to do except peek wistfully into the nest. He would peer into the nest, then stick a paw in. When the tiny kittens grew to two weeks old, we were taking them out of the nest regularly. This drove Ginevra crazy if they all were out of the nest, especially when one tried to crawl away from the others. When they were together and she could keep them rounded up tight , it was mostly okay, but when one crawled away, then mewed, she was torn between staying with group or responding to the mewer. Sunshine solved her problem by going to the mewer all alone and licking it until it quieted and someone made sure it was back with the rest. After that he would sneak in the nest with them occasionally to cuddle when Ginevra was away. He would look up guiltily as if not sure it was okay, but Ginevra never chased him out . The kittens all like to cuddle to him as well as their momma. My husband says human dads could stand to learn from him.

For a sick at home mom with a sick kid, this whole thing had been a wonderful experience to fill my days, and my active octogenarian mother's as well. Petting and playing with them, or being terrorized by them as they grew strong and came bounding by. The joy these little furballs have brought us is worth quite a handful of pills, as they run my life. I've gone from holding a kitten to being used as a resting place for a cat's rear end, or my hair as a toy, overnight. My older son's girlfriend said in despair "Cats rule this house!". He corrected her more happily: "Cats rule!"

Uh oh, with all my medical problems dominating my life this spring, I forgot to register as a cattery, get a website, or start advertising. Oh well, here goes! At last the kittens are registered, vetted, and shot. I do NOT forget health. I've got to sell my kitties so I can have more. These are the girls I never got to have, but I want to have more in six months! What an amazing process.

We decided to always take the high road on health, that was our niche. It apparently was a good one, for our waiting list for Siberian kittens that were FIP free and with a prolonged genetic health guarantee grew and grew. I looked for over a year to get the right kittens as future breeders, then waited over a month for the testing we did on them to come back negative. Jamie wrote a haiku for the birth from our new Siberian queen Ekatarina.

cat round as a truck;
black white pointed kittens born,
cat is skinny now.

As soon as we got the cats echoed in 2007, I claimed our reward. I forced the family to start a 12 foot cat tree I had been designing in mind. It took months and endangered the marriage. But as you come in you will see the 12 foot cat tree that goes up our stair way with leaf perches. The cats love it, even the wee little kittens. The bigger cats hit it at a flying leap. Medium small kittens can make it to the top and rest on the top leaf, but as it is not upholstered, most of the bigger cats prefer the 8 and 10 perches. The tree is covered in hemp and sisal on the outside, lined with carpet on the inside. There is a pillow in the bottom in case of accidents. I hope it is never needed except as a resting place.

Then to the Well of Wisdom, I
With my own Paw, I wrought to make it flow
This is all the wisdom that I gained
Like kittens do we come, and like cats we go.

Oliver Herford - the Rubaiyat of a Persian Kitten, 1905


People sometimes want to know how I am, how Jamie is and what has happened since this page began in 2000. It has been a hard journey. I learned I had Lyme disease after our first litter of kittens was sold, and spent a lot of effort getting information from four different vets (two of them tick born disease specialists) to see if I could have somehow given our cats Lyme disease. Most said "NO". One said if you have never let the cats get a flea at home before you were on antibiotics, so there is know way they could have a flea that bit you then bit them, "NO". I felt save on that one. It was years before the first flea made it inside. I try to be very careful. And I have been on antibiotics ever since, as has Jamie since he got diagnosed. You can learn about Lyme Disease at

Jamie-well he had a hard time of it. He was not okay. No doctors-he had two pediatricians and saw three specialists, were of much help to him. His life was very tough as a child. When he was ten I began pushing very hard for answers. He got the same blood test I had had. My first tests done in 1994, and repeated in 97 and 98 were negative. By 2001 when I was quite sick and unable to work for a few years, it was positive. Some people's never turn positive. Jamie's test was negative, but a special kind of negative with suspicious bands that were weak reactors. None of my bands were strong, Lyme does things to your immune system to make it less effective.

In fact, I had had other causes of CFS/FMS found along the way. (I tested positive for chronic active mono, as do many Lymies as our immune systems get totalled, and I tested positive for Crytostrongyloides pulmonii, a discovery of Larry Klapow, a researcher in CFS) But Lyme seemed to be the heart of it, I found: Treating me for Lyme for a long time, and slowly, very slowly my symptoms improved. I herxed. But cut back on the meds {EVIL blue cross of California did this by overwriting my specialist} and I got much much worse.

Back to Jamie. A friend who had searched for why her children had CFS while I looked for what was wrong with me and with Jamie took her kids to the top Lyme pediatrician in the US (world). She urged me to do so as I made no headway with docs out here trying to get answers for Jamie. "Kit, he is old and won't last a long time. But he is really good. See him while you can." She was right. We flew, me with a wheelchair across the country and wonderful people picked us up and took us to the appointment. Here is to Jan and Sheila, who came through for someone in need. They put me up and extra time when it turned out Jones wanted a SPECT scan done there. And got me and huge wheelchair back to airport in the end. Jamie came home with a diagnosis, a treatment plan, and a week later a call and change in plan based on new lab work.

For him it has been long and slow, but he is over the hump. All due to my hero, Dr. Charles Ray Jones, still a fighter for those that need it. I seem as a guardian angel always responding where he is needed. Let me tell you about him. As a young man, he felt a call to serve others. He went to divinity school, with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. When still a student, visiting someone in severe pain in the hospital, the patient challenged him "to do something REAL" He felt he had a calling as a doctor and left divinity school for medical school-where he excelled.

Somewhere in all this time he was drafted, I am not sure where or when. But he left his base to march with his friend Dr. King, for civil rights for blacks. He was there because he believed he should be.

Forward. He did successful research in one field, he had a busy hospital based practice, he had a family. They moved to a more rural practice so he could spend time with the family. Small town pediatrician. Before Polly Murray had been the first person to start tracking Lyme disease in a public health way, Dr. Jones was recognizing JRA in his patients one town over old from old Lyme, and noted that those LUCKY enough to have strep throat at the same time recovered. He linked this to antibiotics for strep and tried it successfully on other JRA patients. As JRA exploded in the area, the word was passed mouth to mouth that there was a doc who was successful. Gradually his practice filled with Lyme patients.

Fast forward. Jones became the most notable and recognizable Lyme literate pediatrician in the world. He grew old treating these difficult patients. Why? because they came to him when noone else offered any help. He observed the epidemic from its beginning and the changes it went through. When it became threatening to be a Lyme doc he stuck with it. He moved to the city again, making it easier as patients came from all over the world. He retired in ill health as an old doctor, but noone else stepped up to fill his shoes. So he unretired, working 6 days a week. He speaks on Lyme, manages a fund to get meds for those who cannot afford it. He lives in mediocre medical-industrial like complex with an office downstairs and a small apartment upstairs. He rides the elevator up and down to work. People get him takeout or he eats instant food. He takes care of patients all day, seeing them during lunch and on weekends when his staff is out frequently.

Reward, he has been hounded by the anti-Lyme forces and finally he is facing a court battle over treating Lyme patients. Dr. Joseph Burrascano the most famous of the adult good Lyme docs faced three of these and won every one, but it cuts into you tremendously. And it is tremendously expensive. Both of these docs didn't remotely make enough to pay for their own legal fees and have been supported by grateful gifts from those that care. Every time we sell a litter of kittens, one kitten goes to Dr. Jones. Some visitors to the house (we don't charge for visits, unlike many Siberian breeders) have left donations for Dr. Jones or sent them themselves. This man is a hero to fight so he can continue to answer his calling to care for these kids, rather than abandon them to no care. It would be much easier on him if he had just stopped. If you can, please consider even giving just a few dollars to Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Jamie, after so many years and such a hard time is pretty normal. He lost his childhood but is gaining an adolescence. He still needs treatment, but no longer needs the host of ancillary drugs he was on before seeing Dr. Jones. He got all As and Bs on his report card. He has a core group of nice friends. I feel very hopeful for him, if he is allowed to continue with Dr. J.

Me, I got much worse as mentioned when evil Blue Cross gave me low dose instead of high dose antibiotics. Three months later I had permanent vision loss and MS. Also a terrible increase in pain. I was losing most of my ability to walk, talk, pee, poop, think, communicate, read, relate. NOt much of a human being left inside there. My LLMD wanted me on IV antibiotics - ceftriaxone. Insurance agreed to pay for one month. Three docs said I must have it, I had three episodes of heminopsia (one sided blindness)starting less than a month after stopping the ceftriaxone and going with another IV medication for which the manufacturer would give me free samples. Roche wouldn't. Finally I started getting more Rocephin. The blind spells went away. I had deaf spells and they went away. (Yes, Lyme did make me blind, deaf, and dumb. Just not all at the same time.) The insurance is fighting the bill, though I used their back door: Any outpatient hospital procedure will be covered without a need for review or preauthorization" I got outpatient hospital procedures daily, then four times a week. It took over my life, but it was worth it. I was exhausted and I would have to wait til they said I could get my IV, then go somehow and wait, 2 , 4 or 6 hours if they were very slow. I got better. At first evil Blue Cross of CAlifornia paid, then they stopped. I had nightmare about it but when I started I could hardly walk or talk. I had stay on it. We are still fighting on whether they will honor their contract.

Now I have completed 18 mos. of IV antibiotics, 14 mos. in a row of IV ceftriaxone. I got steadily better. I dropped most of my pain meds. I can walk. I can even run, if it is broad daylight, for a tiny bit. I can talk. I can think, read, do so much more. I am wonderfully happy about all this. I could have been a lobbyist for Blue Cross instead of an enemy, but they have done a lot to hurt me and others. All they did was done in a very abitrary way. A man in my group less ill than I had no trouble getting IV. I couldn't, I appealed and couldn't. Three docs said I needed and I couldn't. Now evil Blue Cross of California is harrassing the doc who ordered the treatment. He hugs me when he sees me, he is so happy to see me up walking. I'm still infected, there is still pain, exhausting fatigue, visual disturbance and many more symptoms. I would have stayed on ceftriaxone longer if I could have. But I am at least human now, and I had lost much connection to humanity. Something must be done to protect the victims of this terrible disease, and the doctors like my hero Dr. Jones, who treat it.

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