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Table of Contents
About the Author
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Copyright Page
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To Gigi, Bella, and Anwar,
thank you for teaching me the meaning of unconditional love and for making my life complete.
Thank you for loving me the way that you do and for standing by me every step of the way during this challenging journey.
You are my shining stars and guiding lights and I am so proud of all that you do and all that you are.
To all my fellow Lyme warriors and those whose voices can’t be heard, this book is dedicated to your strength, courage, and your ability to fight every day. You are not alone.
Disclaimer
The information in this book is not intended to replace the advice of each reader’s own physician or other licensed medical professional. You should consult a medical professional in all matters relating to your health, especially if you have existing or chronic medical conditions, and before starting, stopping, or changing the doses of any medications you are taking, or any medical or health regimen you are following, under the supervision of a physician or licensed medical professional.
The intention of this book is to recount Yolanda’s own personal experiences with various chronic medical conditions, in order to raise awareness. It is not intended to give medical advice. Please be aware, and keep clearly in mind, that individual readers are solely responsible for their own health-care decisions. The author and the publisher therefore cannot accept responsibility for any adverse effects individuals may claim to experience, whether directly or indirectly, from the information contained in this book.
The fact that a physician, medical professional, organization, or Web site is mentioned in this book, as a potential source of information or treatments, does not mean that the author or the publisher endorse any particular physician or medical professional, the information they may provide, or the medications, devices or other products, or the courses of treatment they may have recommend in Yolanda’s case.
Again, individual readers are solely responsible for their own health-care decisions.
Foreword
GIGI, BELLA, AND ANWAR HADID
Gigi
For a whole year when I was sixteen years old, I watched my mom struggle to understand the pain, confusion, and symptoms that she was experiencing, but that no doctors seemed to have answers for. At one point, she became so ill that she couldn’t attend my horse shows or volleyball games anymore, she couldn’t watch TV, and in our home where Luther Vandross used to blare through the speakers, things became quiet. My mom used to be a super mom with endless super powers so watching her lose her brain capacity and physical energy was heartbreaking and confusing for me. Finally, after being misdiagnosed with many things such as chronic fatigue syndrome, migraines, and depression, she was diagnosed with chronic neurological Lyme disease in Belgium. We were so excited and thought the ninety-day course of IV antibiotics would cure her. However, I quickly learned that this was not the case for my mom and so many people who suffer from late-stage chronic Lyme. The many years that followed were tough. I watched my mom have endless treatments and work with many doctors all over the world, but without much progress. She never gave up and never stopped fighting although her quality of life continued to diminish drastically. I tried to help and be a source of support but the hardest part for me was not being able to fix her or my siblings.
My mom was diagnosed with Lyme disease after her first season on The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I remember when she was going into that season of filming, she said to me, “I don’t know why my life has led me to this show, but for some reason I think it will lead to something bigger.” My mom is usually right. But this time she was really, really right. She knew there was a higher purpose for her journey and all of a sudden the show’s platform became her vehicle to bring awareness to Lyme. She was honest, unapologetic, and raw in how she shared her journey on the show and through social media. I saw her turn a mess into a message and in no time after she announced her diagnosis to the world, she got thousands of e-mails and letters from families who were suffering and felt lost, misunderstood, and scared. No matter how sick my mom was she would always call some of them, give advice, and lend support.
Unfortunately, there were so many people who were uninformed and quick to shame her, something I’ve learned many Lyme patients experience. Yet, my mom rose above it and stayed strong through it all. “I have nothing to prove to anyone,” she would say. “I only want to support and educate people about the mystery of chronic disease.” I saw her fight for her life, work relentlessly, and heal strategically one day at a time. More than anything, my mom wanted to give people a road map of her journey so that they will be able to find answers faster with more clarity and in a less stressful way than she had to.
Before my mom got sick, I never really understood the meaning of the word “hope,” yet today I know my mom is hope for Lyme disease. I am so proud that she is making her journey one that will help so many and that she continues to fight so passionately for a Lyme-free world. I think if someone is going to find a cure, she will probably be the one because her persistent and righteous heart is unbeatable and she won’t stop until she finds the answers for my siblings and all children with Lyme so that they can live the pain-free lives they deserve.
Bella
Mommy, I’m so proud of you for opening up about a very important and sensitive part of our lives. You didn’t choose this path for yourself, nor did you choose to victimize yourself. Instead you continued to raise me, my brother, and sister in the best way possible—you wrote a book to help all of those suffering around the world whether that be with the invisible disability of chronic Lyme disease, mental wellness, immune diseases, or just being understood in general. You slowly but surely found your happiness again.
I know how hard it was for me to see how much you struggled in the past few years and vice-versa, but to see others constantly judge you and doubt your integrity while you were down was even worse. Hundreds of doctors’ appointments around the world, countless medications, IVs and remedies, the blood, the pain, and the tears to find healing and help people around the world find their own voice. I admire your relentless search to find a cure and a proper diagnostic affordable for all. Throughout my whole life, I never saw you as anything less than tough as nails so every time you would look at me with tears in your eyes, pain in your bones, bruises on your body from all the needles, in the fetal position, and ask me when this would all be over, I would always say, “It will be over soon, Mommy” without ever really knowing the answer. Now I can finally say you are coming out of this stronger than ever. Thank you for being so strong and speaking up about our journey. I am so proud and I love you.
Anwar
My mom was a busy single mom who dedicated her life to us and everything that we did until her health declined drastically and she was diagnosed with neurological Lyme disease in 2012, right after we moved to Malibu from our home in Santa Barbara. It was confusing and hard to un
derstand why doctors could not fix her so I spent many nights online educating myself about Lyme disease to sadly learn that there is no cure. But instead of sharing that bad news with my mom, I wanted to give her hope so I only told her about the success stories I read.
Still, my mom didn’t accept that there was no cure. She was tough and never took “no” for an answer, which is also the reason she eventually got my sister Bella and me properly diagnosed. I struggled with chronic sinus issues, joint pain, and severe fatigue for many years and because of my mom’s journey she was able to understand and identify that my symptoms were not allergies or growing pains like many doctors told us.
So, although it has been a very challenging road at times, I like to look at the positive part of the experience and the way it has brought us closer as a family and strengthened our bond. We learned that together we can get through anything. I saw my mom navigate through many obstacles these past five years, but she never stopped putting us first. She grounds us and is the anchor that keeps our family together. I have learned a lot about the power of holistic medicine and spiritual healing and I believe that our family was given this experience in order to bring awareness to Lyme disease and raise the collective consciousness around this global epidemic.
My mom helps many people find healing every day and her determination to find a cure for Bella, me, and all the children in the world is inspiring. I admire her everyday fight for a Lyme-free world.
Introduction
SOME OF LIFE’S LESSONS ARE LEARNED AT THE MOST CHALLENGING TIMES.
In my more than five-year battle with Lyme disease, I’ve struggled with a seemingly endless list of debilitating symptoms. Too many nights, I found myself lying naked on the bathroom floor, the only relief being the cold tiles on my bare skin, wondering how much more pain I could take and how many more days, months, and years I could suffer. This journey has been long, arduous, and devastating on various levels. There were plenty of times when I thought that I wouldn’t make it through the night alive, and others where I wished and prayed that I would die.
In the first months and years of my illness, I’d feel so guilty and inadequate for not being who I thought I was supposed to be. The old me was a multitasking superwoman with endless energy. I didn’t want to surrender to my illness, because I saw that as a sign of weakness, which I fought for years. But once I evolved in this humbling experience, I learned to surrender. I prayed more. I asked for guidance, and somehow things started falling into place. It didn’t bring me a cure, but it brought me a lot of clarity. As the years passed, I realized that the higher purpose of my journey was to bring awareness to a global epidemic that was growing in the shadows. How could I not share what I have learned? It’s a miracle that I am here to tell my story. Trust me, I would much rather share a new clothing line, face creams, or beautiful housewares, because there’s nothing glamorous about Lyme disease. But I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing that I had gone through all of this and didn’t give back to educate and help others.
It took so much time, heartache, research, money, and effort for me to get properly diagnosed. This made it even more infuriating to then find out that there was no cure for what I had! Once I started to uncover the mystery of chronic Lyme and saw the stigma around it, I felt a strong obligation to the millions of people suffering from this and other chronic illnesses. I have met so many debilitated and financially devastated people who have sold their homes, spent their life’s savings, or gone bankrupt in order to pay for their Lyme treatments or those for a family member—and still they’re not getting better. They’re fighting to stay alive with no cure in sight.
Even though I learned to adjust to my new normal, the rebel inside of me is not able to accept this silent disability that can be cured only at early detection. Once it becomes chronic, the Lyme bacteria can go from living in your bloodstream to living in one of your organs, making it hard to detect and almost impossible to eradicate. Not only is this harder to diagnose and treat, it also can ruin your life. I know this firsthand because I’ve never suffered as deeply as I have with Lyme. Even though it brought me to my knees at times, I believe that there are no coincidences, as I learned that I am a lot stronger, braver, and determined than I ever imagined.
What follows is my journey, and I want to share it in the hope that I can help you and others navigate through the dark maze of chronic disease, in times that you might feel scared or alone. Often, we are misunderstood by even our closest friends and family because they don’t get it until they get it. Many times while I was sick, I thought that if God granted me life after this journey, I was going to use my wisdom to help others. If I can shed light on and educate even a handful of people about this invisible disability that hijacks your life, I will gladly open my medical records. That is the point of this book. So let me start at the beginning. The very beginning.
Prologue
DON’T EVER FORGET YOUR ROOTS, SINCE THEY ARE THE TRUE FOUNDATION AND ESSENCE OF WHO YOU ARE TODAY.
Before I take you on my health journey, I would like to tell you a little bit about me, my childhood, where I came from, and how a little farm girl went from Holland to Hollywood …
In 1964, I was born in Papendrecht, a small village nestled against the dike that holds the Noord River. It was a lush, beautiful place with seemingly endless farmland, gorgeous fields of flowers, and apple and pear orchards. With a population of just five thousand people, our town was a warm community where everyone knew each other. It was a place where you actually would knock on your neighbor’s door if you needed sugar, flour, or anything else. You never had to ask for a helping hand because one was always ready and within reach. Life was very simple and modest, and if I’m making it sound idyllic, that’s because it was always glorious in my mind. Although buses and water taxis could take you to neighboring villages, bicycles were our main source of transportation, and there was nothing better than the independence I felt biking around town with the wind blowing through my hair.
My father, Gerard van Den Herik, was a tall, handsome man with dark hair and blue eyes. He was a men’s shirt designer and ran his own business, Van Den Herik Shirtmakers. My mother, Ans Groenenberg, was a gorgeous blond with the prettiest cherry-red lips. She was nineteen years old and working as a hairdresser when she met my father, who was twenty, at a dance in Sliedrecht, a neighboring town. They got married in 1961. A year and a half later, they had my brother, Leo, and eighteen months after that they had me. Leo and I were, and still are, the best of friends. No one makes me laugh harder or feel as connected to my roots than he does. As kids, we’d walk to school hand in hand as my mother watched from our apartment window and waved to us until we crossed the main road.
My father and I were very close. I was definitely a daddy’s girl, and he always gave me the sense that I could do anything that I set my mind to. On Saturday mornings, he would take me to the shirt factory with him to look at fabrics and check his production. There was no safer feeling than sitting on my father’s lap in the car and him letting me think that I was driving us home from work. My mother was an extraordinary homemaker. Our sweet little apartment was humble, but it was always meticulously kept, with fresh flowers on the table and the comforting smell of home-cooked meals wafting through it. In fact, my mother was such a good cook that her sandwiches were always a hot commodity at the sandwich trade with the kids at school. She sewed our clothes and always created that secure feeling of home, even after the worst of tragedies occurred.
In the middle of a cold winter’s night when I was seven years old, I woke to the sound of my mother crying. I got out of bed and listened through the crack of the living room door. My mother was talking to her parents, my Opa and Oma. I heard the words “car accident,” “hospital,” and “Gerard.” I was confused.
“They don’t think he’s going to make it,” my mother said to Oma. A lot of their conversation was muffled and difficult to understand. This was when I figured out that my father was in i
ntensive care. How could that be? He was just in Hong Kong buying fabric for his next collection. He was coming home soon. My Opa, who saw me standing at the living room door, put me back in bed and tucked me in, promising that everything was going to be okay.
The next morning, my father died in the hospital. Our whole world fell apart. I felt sick to my stomach with a big, giant knot that didn’t leave me for years. How was this possible?
“Why did you let my daddy die?” I asked God over and over again. What did he do wrong? It was so hard to understand. At the funeral, I sat on the bench in church feeling heartbroken. I was so small that my legs didn’t even reach the ground, and as I swung them nervously back and forth, I looked over at my mother and brother. They were both so distraught that I felt a deep sadness that I had never experienced before. In that fraction of a second, I made the strangely mature decision not to cry, but rather to be strong for the family that my father left behind. I have to take care of them. I’m not sure why I had the higher consciousness to think this way at the age of seven, but I did.
My mother picked up the pieces of our lives and showed great strength in this very difficult time. She was a kick-ass single mom who led by example with a strong set of morals and values. Maybe she shared her grief with Opa and Oma, but she never shared it with Leo or me. Even though I felt the need to talk about my father’s death, my mother never spoke about her loss. In time, I learned to soothe myself and manage my emotions by drawing, writing, riding my horse, and spending time in nature. But one thing was for sure: my momma wasn’t going to let this experience be a crutch for failure. She pushed Leo and me even harder to strive for success in every aspect of our lives. Although she loved us with everything she had and dedicated her life to us, she was also strict, and we were raised to be very disciplined. For example, I had to iron for my mom every Friday after school and dust, clean the bathroom, and vacuum my bedroom. She also had a huge heart and sense of charity. No matter how little we had, my mother always helped those less fortunate than us, pushing my brother and me to go door to door to raise money for the Red Cross so they could feed starving children in Africa. She volunteered at the old peoples’ home and was extremely generous with our friends and neighbors, cooking a meal for someone who was sick or watching their kids in times of need. When my best friend Gina’s mom died, Gina often stayed with us and my mom also cared for my other girlfriend, whose parents were battling through a divorce. My mom has the biggest heart and taught me to always have great compassion for others.
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