An Inconvenient Tick
Laura Finney
9/17/2026
I’m not saying that I was blessed with the gift of prophecy from a Greek god who then cursed me so no one would ever believe my predictions.
I’m just saying that I’m seeing what’s coming down the pike and, as hard as I point down the pike and jump up and down and carry on like a crazy person, no one seems particularly interested in casting their eyes down said pike.
Which is frustrating. Because what is barreling down that pike is picking up speed … and bringing friends.
The problem with sounding the alarm about Alpha-Gal — or tick-borne illness in general — is that it really helps to have numbers. Big, solid, indisputable numbers that you can point to and say, “See! This is what I’m talking about.” People like to hang their hats on stats.
Unfortunately, we don’t have those. We have estimates. We have studies of particular populations in particular places. We have some numbers that suggest that those same numbers are, in fact, completely wrong. And we have maps with ominously expanding colors.
What we do not have are sturdy stat hat hooks. The reason for this, as far as I can tell, is three-pronged. Which makes it sound far more organized than it actually is.
Prong One: You Have to Know It Exists
I’m no medical professional, but even I know that in order to test for something like Alpha-Gal, you need to be aware that it exists. I feel like that prong explains itself. Forty-two percent of medical personnel admit that they’ve never heard of it — so clearly those folks will not be ordering the test.
Prong Two: Congratulations! You Have Something Else.
The second prong is closely related to the first: misdiagnosis. Tick-borne illnesses are the Rich Little of the medical world. And if you don’t know who Rich Little is, congratulations on your youth. The point is, they are astonishingly good impersonators. Many tick-borne illnesses mimic other illnesses and, given the fact that your doctor might have never heard of the tick-borne variety, they are far more likely to go with something they’ve actually heard of.
Sixty-five percent of people with Alpha-Gal were originally misdiagnosed — some even having their gallbladder, appendix or parts of their colon removed. I’m sorry, but that seems like a pretty life-altering whoops. “I know we removed several parts of your body, but it turns out you just needed to avoid cheeseburgers.”
Which brings us to Prong Three: Counting the People We Didn’t Know Existed.
As of this writing, only fourteen states have mandatory reporting for Alpha-Gal. Fourteen. This means that thirty-six states, when asked, “How many of your residents have Alpha-Gal?” are essentially responding, “What?” And even those fourteen states that are now keeping track aren’t going up into the attic of past blood tests and digging through boxes for an accurate head count. They are counting forward.
So we have people never tested because their doctor never heard of it, people misdiagnosed because their doctor never heard of it, people who tested positive but live outside a state with required reporting, and people who tested positive before their state had mandatory reporting.
And then the US health organizations says 450,000 Americans have Alpha-Gal.
Which seems like a solid number … until you reread the paragraph above and realize that no one has any idea of the actual number. This estimate is about as reliable as a fish’s estimate of the distance to Jupiter based solely on information available in his pond.
So no, we don’t know exactly how many people have Alpha-Gal, but we do know the numbers are trending up. Ticks are expanding their territory, adapting and evolving, and tick-borne illnesses are appearing in places they have never been seen before. The people who study this stuff are using words — and a tone of voice — that make me want to crawl under my bed.
Yes, an alarm of sorts is sounding. But it’s more the gentle chime of church bells drifting over from the next village and less a full Mission: Impossible situation — alarms blaring, steel doors slamming shut and Tom Cruise sprinting down the hall yelling, “Go! Go! Go!”
And why is he ALWAYS sprinting? I mean, seriously! It’s exhausting just watching all of that running.
Anyway, ticks. At least Cassandra — the one of Greek mythology, who was actually given the gift of prophecy only to have it cursed — could point to the giant wooden horse at the gates of Troy and say, “Here’s a thought … let’s not let that in.”
I’m pointing at something smaller than a freckle: an arachnid that’s been around forever. Although we might consider it gross and creepy, we don’t really put it into the same category as, say, sharks or falling into an active volcano.
But maybe it’s time we do. The ticks have leveled up. Maybe it’s time we level up, too. I’m not saying that we have to declare war on ticks but … wait, actually that’s exactly what I’m saying.
It’s time to declare war on ticks.
They have taken our pizza. They have taken our bacon. They have robbed us of our peace of mind and, in some cases, our colons. But they have underestimated one thing: we are extremely attached to what remains of our internal organs.
So, we will spray. We will treat our clothes. We will tuck our pants into our socks and somehow continue to participate in society looking like that. We will fund the research. We will educate the doctors. We will count the cases.
And when someone says, “It’s just a tick,” we will point toward Troy and politely suggest that history has not always been kind to people who underestimate strange things carrying something dangerous inside.
Cassandra tried to warn them.
I’m going to keep warning you. And I sincerely hope that someday everyone gets to tell me I was wrong.
Until then, I’ll be over here guarding my gallbladder.
And somewhere out there, inexplicably, Tom Cruise just took off at a sprint.