Or, Diagnosis Part II
I was sitting on the red sofa in my new living room when it dawned on me: I had tried everything I knew and everything every doctor I knew, knew. I still couldn’t function and didn’t even know what was wrong with me. It was mid to late 2006 and I had moved by lying down and saying yes or no while Kari organized and packed up my townhome. My joints were getting increasingly sore, my body was bloating like crazy and by the time I was sitting on the sofa pondering my situation, my left wrist was in a brace.
I was no slouch when it came to using diet and exercise to keep myself healthy. Over the years I had become accustomed to doctors marveling at my great cholesterol numbers for example. But my medical doctor at the time, whom I’ve been calling Addison, had proven unhelpful even harmful. My naturopathic doctor “Bailey” was more sympathetic but didn’t seem to have much more to offer. The conclusion I reached that day was that new information had to come in. There was information somewhere that could help me, and I was going to find it.
First I called Bailey and asked her to go back to the beginning. Was there a different path we could take to diagnosis? I gave him permission to talk to colleagues about my case. The main thing that came out of that was a naturopathic acupuncturist who was shocked at my pulses. “How are you alive?” he’d asked. Though jarring, this was actually useful because I was starting to get more external confirmation that something serious was happening.
Then I went back to my surgeon. I wanted to know if something had happened in surgery that nobody had told me. He insisted that my surgery had been complicated but successful. It hadn’t kept him awake at night. “I can barely tie my shoes,” he said, “but this, I know how to do!”
Dr. Nezhat decided to help me investigate. A true scientist! He wanted to start by making sure the problems that had led to surgery hadn’t returned. When the first tests came back showing no anemia, he asked me to get an ultrasound.
Meanwhile, my friend Michael Ryder showed up at my home unannounced and handed me a couple of books. “You have to take a look at these Bola,” he said. “If you can’t get better, nobody can.” The books didn’t look very inviting to me but I was so touched by Michael’s gesture that I wanted to try. Luckily, my ability to read had just returned about a year after surgery.
That’s how I was introduced to the work of Robert O. Young. I read the books first reluctantly then eagerly. I read a ton of testimonials about him. One woman described how going to the grocery store meant she couldn’t get out of bed for the next few days. Me too! And she’d gotten better!! I looked him up on the internet and read everything I could find, good and bad. Finally I did an experiment based on the new information I was getting. I bought a ton of fresh, organic green vegetables and juiced them for breakfast. No fruit, no carbohydrate. Over the next few days, I started to get an appetite again and the bloating in my body actually began to go down. But I needed help turning this new data into a treatment program.
There was only one thing left to do: speak to Dr. Young himself! I called his residential treatment center in San Diego and got past his screener. Dr. Young calmly answered all my questions and agreed to let me talk to a patient that was at his clinic. Arriving at the San Diego airport on pure will a short time later, I practically collapsed into the arms of the woman who had come to meet me from his pH Miracle Center.
I returned home from two weeks of treatment just before Christmas 2006. Following Dr. Young’s protocol was a lot harder on my own than it had been at the Center but it was helping – what else was I going to do? I had to get better. It was surprisingly difficult but I found an infra-red sauna place and a couple of lymphatic drainage therapists. The Center shipped an alkalizing water purifier, a rebounder and supplements. Margaret helped me figure out a way to schedule the appointments so I could handle them and by January 2007 my new phase of recovery was underway.
Next week, I’ll get to the medical diagnosis. Agnes if you’re reading this, thank you for making sure there was a shower curtain in my apartment when I moved in!