Ransom: The Medical Mystery That Stole Our Son and the Fight to Get Him Back Chapter One

 Below is the first chapter of my recently published book, Ransom: The Medical Mystery That Stole Our Son and the Fight to Get Him Back. At the time I originally wrote it my son was only eleven, so I wrote it under the pen name Hope Shepherd to protect his privacy until he was old enough to decide whether or not to share his story. Now he is coming up on fifteen (how did that happen?) and very open to sharing his story in the hopes of helping others. If you haven't heard of PANDAS (Pediatric Autoimmune Neuropsychiatric Disorder Associated with Strep) you're in good company. All I knew when we embarked on this journey no family wants to take was PANDAS was an acronym for some medical syndrome. For six years I didn't know it was the kidnapper responsible for stealing our three-year-old son in the night even though he never left his bedroom. Little did I know this mysterious acronym would take my son over and over again and threaten to tear our family apart. Little did I know the immense relief I'd feel when we finely found a doctor who would listen, and the profound joy of staring into my son's clear eyes and knowing I had him back. Please enjoy this sneak peak of Ransom: The Medical Mystery That Stole Our Son and the Fight to Get Him Back by Hope Shepherd and Jack Shepherd. If you'd like to read more, get your copy on Amazon or Barnes and Noble. It's available on kindle or hard copy. Reviews are always appreciated. It is my goal to raise awareness of PANDAS/PANS/AE so that our struggle will not have been in vain. Thank you for your support.

Chapter One

Taken

 “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” ~ Psalm 23:4

I wish I could pinpoint the exact moment my son, Jack was taken. I know it was right around his third birthday, but it’s impossible for me to report with any accuracy the life altering second the kidnapper whisked him away while I was staring at him, as yet blissfully unaware.

            It’s every parent’s worst nightmare - a child snatched from the periphery of your vigilance. Once I realized he’d been taken, I did what any parent would do in this gut-wrenching situation. I searched for him. I called in the professionals. The response was a mix of confused looks, raised eyebrows, and the occasional tasteless smirk. What do you mean, your child’s been taken? He’s right there.

            And he was. When Jack was taken, he never left the house. To the outside world and even those closest, he looked like Jack. How could I blame them for not believing my panic? The only physical feature that gave it away was Jack’s eyes. His sky-blue eyes, clear with calm plus a hint of mischief, were wide, cold, somewhere else. Jack was somewhere else, but I was the only one who knew it.

            I didn’t know where Jack was or who had taken him. All I knew was I put my sweet, quiet, gentle, inquisitive boy to bed one night and woke up with a completely different child. As the years went by, Jack came back, sometimes for days, weeks, or even months, until he was stolen away again.

            When Jack was with me, I savored the moments. I held on to him as he fell asleep and held my breath when he woke. Which child would I get today? Every beat of my son’s heart was etched in my memory from the time he’d grown under my own. Jack was the dream baby who slept four hours at a stretch the first night home from the hospital and switched seamlessly between breast and bottle. Jack was the contented toddler who reached for my hand crossing the street and tagged along on errands without a single protest. He was the preschooler who beamed when he saw my face and proudly presented me with macaroni necklaces and newly mastered sight words.

            The red-faced three-year-old hurling books at my face was not my son. Jack was not the six-year-old lifting a kitchen chair over his head like the Hulk and launching it clear into the other room. My child was not the nine-year-old losing the ability to scrawl a legible sentence.

            But where was Jack, my Jack when this other child, this stranger, was inhabiting his body? Was he stuck somewhere, trying to get back? Why had he left, and more importantly, how could I get him back?

For more information on PANDAS/PANS/AE please visit https://pandasnetwork.org/