By Kathryn McGinnis

My story starts when I was fifteen—when Lyme decided to show me its true colors. At that point, I was a three-sport athlete, honor student, band leader, and an active daughter and sister.

I was pushing hard for my goals, competing in indoor track, playing indoor soccer, and making plans for the future. Life was perfect. Then, it all changed overnight.

I started feeling a strange shaking in my hands, as if my fingers had slipped out of my control. My hands felt foreign, and after tough track workouts, my legs felt like jelly—unstable and unable to carry me. I told my mom, and we chalked it up to dehydration and tried to fix it with home remedies. But each day, things only got worse.

It was race day at the University of New Hampshire’s indoor track, and I was lined up for my 600-meter race. As the race began, something felt off. My body was telling me something I couldn’t ignore. As I finished, I turned to my mom and showed her my shaking hands.

“See? This is what I’ve been talking about!” I said, but she replied, “That’s not shakiness, Kath.”

What was wrong?

For the next two years, I felt like I was on an endless carousel of tests, blood draws, appointments, and dead-ends. “Something’s wrong, but we don’t know what,” the doctors would say. Or worse, “Do you think she just wants attention?”

I watched myself fade. The vibrant, energetic version of me shrank, and the future that had seemed so bright in the beginning of my sophomore year now felt distant and uncertain. I canceled plans with friends, skipped events, and had to step back from everything I
loved—especially sports.

The simple act of reading became a painful challenge. My arms would ache and be unable to move from holding up a book. The staircase at school felt like climbing Everest, and the hallways became overwhelming and overstimulating.

My smile was replaced by tears, panic attacks, and a sense of foreignness in both my body and mind. I knew something was seriously wrong, but the more tests came back negative, the more my spirit broke.

At last, positive test results

Then, finally, after two long years, we received a letter in the mail: Lyme disease and Bartonella. At seventeen, I finally had an answer to the tremors, brain fog, fatigue, anxiety, and pain that had turned my life upside down. The relief was indescribable. But it didn’t make sense. I’d never had a tick bite, a rash, or any obvious sign. How could it be Lyme?

Then treatment began. They warned me it would feel like chemotherapy, and we plunged into research about the spirochetes wreaking havoc in my body.

I was put on multiple antibiotics, and we tracked every pill, every symptom, on an Excel spreadsheet. The brain fog and other symptoms worsened as the antibiotics killed the bacteria, triggering the Herxheimer reaction I grew to fear. It got worse before it got better, just as they’d said.

Slowly, I started to feel a little better and eventually managed to pursue my dream: attending college, studying Occupational Therapy, and playing for the women’s soccer team. But at 19, after two years of antibiotics, I reached a breaking point.

I couldn’t fight any more

The physical pain was one thing, but the mental agony of Lyme and Bartonella was unbearable. I hadn’t realized how much the antibiotics had thrown my body out of balance—enter Candida, a yeast overgrowth caused by the medication. I called my parents and told them I couldn’t fight anymore. At 19, Lyme had stolen everything.

I don’t remember much from that period, however, I’m endlessly grateful for my parents, who acted quickly. They picked me up and scheduled a visit with a new doctor the very next day. The first visit is a blur, but I remember the second one clearly: “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he said as he greeted me. And for the first time in a long while, I smiled a real smile. I felt like me again.

Switching from antibiotics to a more holistic approach saved my life.

Now, nearly nine years later, I reflect on that time with a different perspective as an Occupational Therapist. The words “It’s nice to finally meet you” became a turning point in my recovery. They reminded me that I was more than my illness—that I still had power over my life.

Neurological rehabilitation

Throughout my career, I have immersed myself in neurological rehabilitation, nervous system healing, development, and the mind-body connection. I’ve seen the healing effects on my own body, mind, and life, as well as my clients’.

I remain committed to my Lyme and co-infections treatment and have experienced firsthand the devastating effects of these illnesses. I’ve also watched loved ones go through their own diagnostic and treatment challenges with tick-borne illness. But, through it all, I’ve found strength in the chronic illness community, celebrating their victories and grieving their losses as my own.

This experience lit a fire in me. I saw the lack of recognition for chronic illnesses within the medical field—especially in my profession. Fueled by this, I founded Wholesome Roots Occupational Therapy. A practice centered on healing, no matter the diagnosis, and focused on empowering individuals to heal both physically and mentally. Without the two working together, healing isn’t lasting.

I’ve seen firsthand the difference occupational therapy can make for chronically ill individuals at all stages in the healing process. It provides mental health support, adaptive equipment, energy conservation strategies, safe exercise and strengthening routines, and most importantly, a safe space to be heard and heal.

My mission is to ensure that every individual in this community receives the support they deserve and are empowered to heal and thrive.

Kathryn McGinnis, M.S., OTR/L, CRPCS, CFVRS, CMIP, can be contacted via the Wholesome Roots Occupational Therapy website.