Posted 5/17/2011 12:26 AM (GMT 0)
Here is what I have began writing. It is not very organized as I just want to say everything at once, and did not spend the time to make a proper outline. This is a start to a rough draft and I just needed an outlet to get these ideas down on paper. I hope you all enjoy, learn something, and most of all respond with lots and lots of comments!!! Thanks
I am not a doctor. I am do not have a nutrition degree. But what I do have is a whole new way of understanding health and wellness than I ever had before I was cured of ulcerative colitis. This may seem like an oxymoron to most people since ulcerative colitis along with Crohns disease, celiacs, lupis, and even arthritis are considered incurable conditions that torment millions of individuals. I feel compelled to write this book based on my newfound knowledge that I gained while living with ravaging intestinal problems that made my life a living hell for three years.
Many who read what I write will quickly disregard this information due to my lack of credibility. Honestly, I think that is more reason for anyone suffering with a so-called autoimmune disease to take what I say even more to heart. My only goal in writing this book is to enlighten as many people as I can so that they do not have to live in agony another day longer than necessary.
I am a fairly average person. I am 25 years old at the time of this writing, male, Jewish background (which according to some generic information on autoimmune diseases are more susceptible to these sorts of ailments.) I stand just shy of 5’10” and have a healthy weight of 165lbs. I was always active and go in and out of regular exercise every few months it seems. This occurs mainly because I get too busy with my work to keep to a consistent schedule. That said, I have never been overweight but I am also not the super athlete I always sought to be. Maybe that will be my next endeavor. I am telling you this because I want it to be as clear as possible that I am not some gifted individual or an anomaly. What happened to me can happen to anyone. Millions of people are sick with diseases that they needlessly suffer from. They have within them the capacity to cure themselves and once again regain true health. All they need is direction and support from people who actually know the truth about healing and living a healthy lifestyle.
Growing up as a youth I was not the healthiest child in existence. I never had anything too seriously wrong with me, but I did supposedly have asthma so for years I was told to inhale a vapor blend of steroids and other chemicals that we supposed to help me breathe. I also would randomly develop skin irritations and rashes out of the blue. One year it was thought to be from eating strawberries (which I personally never believed). The next year my skin would break out in hives after swimming in a pool. This cycle of various diagnoses continued all along and I could never completely shake it.
Being the fairly driven person that I am, I was never content to just settle with the status quo that this was normal and acceptable. Other kids did not have to take puffs from inhalers before the soccer games or running in a track meet. Why did I? They also did not get unexplainable rashes. I repeatedly got the same answer from everyone I asked and respected, be it doctors or my parents. This is just the way it is and there is nothing really wrong with me. Thankfully, through my high school years my weaknesses seemed to subside and I personally made the decision against my mother’s and doctor’s will to stop taking my inhaler before sporting events. Amazingly I survived just fine.
Then came the summer after my sophomore year in college. I was working outdoors in beautiful northern Vermont on an island on Lake Champlain. I did maintenance repairs at a large campground. A few weeks into the summer, I started to develop rashes randomly. These were triggered my sweat or by something rubbing against my skin. The irritated skin area would quickly get bright red and raised. It was embarrassing and began to interfere with my work since I never knew when the next episode would begin. So off I went to the nearest dermatologist that would accept my out of state health insurance. I explained to her, a very nice woman as I recall, about my rashes and when and how they would develop. She found it odd that we could not isolate what would cause them such as eating a certain food shortly before I would break out, but nonetheless, she had a solution. I recall starting to feel really hopeless, as she could not identify the cause, but then a great sense of relief when she told me there is a fix. She wrote me a prescription for Zyrtec, which is an allergy symptom relief drug that now can be purchased without a prescription. She then told me that I was suffering from ‘pressure hives’ and that there is no cure or explanation, but simply take the Zyrtec daily and the redness will be under control.
Yes I was relieved, but those old feelings of inferiority started to creep into my mind randomly throughout my days that summer. Why didn’t my friend Jake who worked along side me that summer have to take medication to keep his skin from becoming red and irritated when something rubbed against it? Was I plagued by poor genes? Was I really a weaker human being than my peers? I know it may sound neurotic but these really were the thoughts that ran through my mind on a regular basis. I felt helpless and not in control of the situation. Little did I know it was going to get a whole lot worse than I could ever imagine before it got better!
Fast-forward about six months to the following winter. This is when things for me really started to fall apart right before my eyes for nearly three straight years. I remember waking one Saturday morning and going to the bathroom. I was a little constipated but that was nothing unusual or so I thought. I wiped with the tissue paper and vividly remember being shocked and frightened when I saw a small dab of bright red blood on the paper. I rationalized it to being constipated and maybe I just had a little cut in my skin. I was sworn to secrecy by my ego. A week passed and each time I went to the bathroom to have a bowel movement, there was the dab of blood on the paper starring back at me. Clearly a simple cut would have healed by now, especially since usually two days would pass between my bowel movements. Those feelings and thoughts of inferiority started to increase in regularity across my conscious mind.
I decided to mention the blood to my girlfriend at the time, Sara, who has since become my wife. Still trying to be cool and calm, but clearly calling out for help with this embarrassing issue, I decided to mention it to her in some sort of indirect, under my breath fashion. That did not exactly go according to plan once I let the news of my bloodstained toilet paper reach her ears. Being the loving and caring person she is, she was immediately very concerned and told me bluntly to not be an idiot and to make an appointment with a doctor as soon as possible. She was appalled when I told her a week had gone by since it had started. She could not believe how careless I was about what was seemingly a genuine health concern. I knew she was right, but I hated this never-ending series of flaws that seemed to follow me and so I kept it to myself for that week before finally bringing it to her attention.
Being a college student away from home and living on my own, I decided to start with the nurse practitioner at the health center on campus. She was a kind and compassionate older woman who I felt reasonably comfortable discussing the matter with. I did not feel as though she was judging me and her diagnosis was simple and seemed to make sense. She said I probably had a hemorrhoid. I was relieved and bothered at the same time. It felt good to know that I had a diagnosis that seemed like a fairly common and easily treatable problem. I was uneased by the fact that a hemorrhoid was a term we tossed around on the school bus in middle school and I still did not really know what it was or what it was caused by. Either way, her advice was that it would eventually go away on its own.
Sara was anxious to hear what the nurse had to say. I played it nice and cool and kept it real short. I said something to the effect of “…yeah so I have a hemorrhoid or something and it will go away on its own no problem…” Sara, while not thrilled with my lame answer, appreciated the fact that I did as she advised me to and went to get myself checked out. I think she also could sense my insecurity and desire to not talk about it so she dropped the issue and left it up to me to make the next move.
Weeks went by and the small dot of blood on the toilet paper continued to haunt me as well as slowly grow in diameter. A new sensation of urgency started to develop before I would have to go to the bathroom and sometimes it felt like I might not even make it to the toilet in time! What was happening to me? Why was my hemorrhoid not going away like she said it would? I went back to the same nurse practitioner who was much more concerned during this visit. She asked me if there was any crohns disease in my family to which I didn’t really know the right answer. She told me I would need to be seen by a gastroenterologist and she immediately made me an appointment. Both my mother and father drove the four and a half hours from Albany to Buffalo for the appointment. I could feel the same, if not stronger than ever sense of weakness in my genetic makeup and it was now starting to shake me at the core. The Doctor that met with me was fat, tall, bald, and Eastern European. His English was hard to understand but what we did gather was that we would need to set up another appointment for a sigmoid scope so that they could have a look inside me and determine if I in fact had just a hemorrhoid or something much more serious.
I took the prescription prep as I was instructed and crap all night while my friends carried on their normal college routines of studying and drinking, probably in the opposite order. I just wanted to be isolated and for no one to know where I was or what I was doing. This was the first time I felt the loneliness that comes along with being truly sick. Healthy people can’t understand completely what you are going through, mentally or physically. Even worse, I myself did not even know what was going on inside my own body. The next morning my friends drove me to the hospital and waited for me since I would be knocked out for the scope procedure and would need to be driven home. A few days later and we had a new diagnosis. I had ulcerative colitis, specifically in the lower portion of my colon.
At the follow up appointment with the doctor, it was explained to me that I had ulcerative colitis, which was described as an autoimmune disease that is prevalent in those of Jewish decent. It was also explained to me that there is no cure and I would be blessed with this pesky intestinal disease for the rest of my life! My heart sank. I was completely defeated. I was weak. I was inferior. My bad genes had officially taken control of the wheel from me at the age of 21 and I was to suffer from then on.
The doctor read off the pamphlet just as I am sure he had done thousands of times before. “There is no cure.” These words reverberated in my mind over and over again. “The best we can do is to try and manage your disease”. I felt ruined. They had a name for my condition and everything. I felt like I was tatooed with a label. This is Joe Neiman, the young man with ULCERITIVE COLITIS branded across his ass.
The rest of the information in the packet was a list of foods to avoid. These included all fresh fruits, vegetables, seeds, and nuts. This common medical thinking is that roughage and sharp foods could aggravate my already inflamed intestines even further. Also, hearty breads such as whole grains were a big no-no. From this point forward I was to eat only plain, soft, unseasoned foods that were cooked well done. I was also given a wonderful prescription for a steroid containing enema that I was to empty into my rectum just before bed every night. This seemed like a big joke, but nobody was laughing, especially not me.
I was becoming more and more angry about the entire situation. I was embarrassed too. Nothing kills the mood faster than squeezing a steroid enema in your butt just before calling it a night! Amazingly, Sara stuck by my side through this. I was naive enough to think it could not get any worse. She just told me repeatedly and sincerely that she didn’t think any less of me and that she loved me regardless. But I was not a happy camper. I would leave the enema inside me for maybe 10 minutes before it would cause me to rush to the bathroom and violently discharge it into the toilet water along with the remaining contents of my bowels and still more blood.
I became a patient of one of the larger gastroenterology groups in the area. I met with a genuinely kind and concerned nurse practitioner who listened well and who I felt comfortable talking about bloody diarrhea with. Believe me, it is not the easiest topic of conversation with a total stranger. She asked about what I was eating and made sure to tell me to avoid all high fiber foods, hearty breads, and anything uncooked. Nuts and seeds were absolutely a bad idea. She also outlined for me the treatment plan for ulcerative colitis. It begins with the mildest orally administered pills, which work as anti-inflammatory drugs. If those don’t work to suppress the symptoms then we move on to something stronger. Usually this will be enemas or suppositories, both of which are rectally administered. If those don’t do the trick, more powerful drugs are the next logical step. Prednisone works great to suppress the symptoms but there was an uncomforting sense of concern when these stronger drugs were discussed. Side effects and complications caused from long-term use were commonly touched on, but not really elaborated about. After Prednisone there were still a few other drugs to try. 6MP was one that apparently works for some people and not for others. Still higher on the intensity spectrum were the “biologicals”. These just sounded dangerous. These were to be administered intravenously during a doctor’s visit or hospital stay. If all of these drugs proved to be not enough, the final answer was surgery to remove the colon itself and replace it with a hopefully temporary bag.
During the year that I saw this nurse practitioner I found myself on a varied concoction of different pills and suppositories. I felt that she was really tying to help me but it seemed strange how the prescription doses would just keep going up and up to counteract the symptoms, which remained and grew in ferocity. She did occasionally mention about one of her patience that had good results by trying something called the Simple Carb Diet, and that there was one book about it and maybe I should read it just to see. It seemed strange though since she along with everyone in the medical community that I had spoken to so far said that diet has nothing to do with ulcerative colitis, or any autoimmune disease for that matter. I ignored her half-hearted recommendation and just kept taking those pills as everyone told me to do.
A year passed and I graduated college. I was still taking a lot of pills every day and although they gave me some marginal relief from the unpredictable urgency and bleeding, nothing I was doing was actually getting me into remission. Remission is the theoretical “promise land” for those suffering from these sorts of ailments. It is the point at which the medication has successfully quieted the symptoms and everything is hunky dory! You are still sick since you will never actually be cured of the disease, but it sure sounded better than what I was going threw. The only times I started to approach that oasis was on high doses of Prednisone which caused a slew of side effects to surface. Prednisone is an old drug that has been around for about a century from what I was told. It is a steroid and while it was able to significantly reduce my bleeding, the 40+mg I was taking a day took its toll elsewhere on my body. This was early on too. I eventually was taking up to 60mg daily while also ingesting a slew of other anti-inflammatory drugs such as Asacol, Pentasa, and Lialda.
A few months after graduating I moved back home to Albany. I got a new doctor who came recommended from a physician my family used. This new gastroenterologist was nice, but he was quick to make the patient feel inferior to the man in the white coat. His course of action for me was simple. We need to increase the meds and get ahead of these autoimmune symptoms. So up I went on the Prednisone. I couldn’t believe the liberal approach to just adding and adding more drugs to my doses. It was like a cook adding more and more salt and pepper to a stew. The doctors would just keep dumping more on, testing to see if it was enough, and then adding some more for good measure.
At 60mg and around 30 anti-inflammatory pills per day, plus some Zanex to address my anxiety, I was finally barely bleeding and my bowel movements which had been steadily increasing in frequency, messiness, and pain up to 15 times per day were finally starting to settle down, although they were still far from normal. The drugs were working to numb my immune system. Hooray! But at what cost? Because of all the Prednisone my once slender and defined face turned into a red balloon. This is known as a moon face and is a common side effect. I was also becoming very angry and would get enraged at the slightest things and could not control myself. I was full on ‘roid raging! To top that all off, I began wetting the bed around 4am. I would have the same reoccurring dream of having to pee really bad, then relieving myself at a urinal. I would wake up about 5 seconds into full on pissing the bed.
I brought all this to my doctor’s attention and told him that I cannot keep going on this course of treatment. He said he had never had anyone wetting the bed from Prednisone, but so be it. He did tell me that long-term use of Prednisone can be very dangerous though and that we need to be weaning me off of such a high dose. It can do irreversible damage to organs and significantly reduce bone density. All of which are things any 22 year old should be worrying about. Right? This is when he really began to press the biological drugs on me. I was steadfast in my decision to stonewall them. I remembered back to a year before when I was talking with the nurse practitioner in Buffalo who made it seem like those were a last ditch effort and that they were just out of experimental stages and very powerful. I told my current doctor I would like to try something else less intense such as Mercaptopurine, or more commonly called 6MP.
My mother had a friend from college that had an on and off battle with similar symptoms as I was experiencing, and this 6MP really seemed to help her. My doctor was apprehensive. He really wanted me to go forward with the biologicals, specifically one called Remicade. He said that the 6MP only works for some people and that it takes at least six weeks to build up in one’s system enough to potentially begin to work. I said that was fine and I was willing to try it.
After about three weeks he said the 6MP was not going to work for me and we were left with no choice but to begin Remicade treatments. I told him I was not willing to do it. Over the past few months I had been researching some alternative and homeopathic remedies for my condition. I searched the Internet as much as I could but only came up with a few glimmers of hope. I bought books and read them and brought them to my doctor. Some of them were The Simple Carb Diet, Patient Heal Thyself, The Self Healing Crohns & Colitis, and a few more. The doctor quickly shot each one down saying that my condition is not caused by diet. I have an autoimmune disease, which causes my immune system to be attacking perfectly good tissue because it is “over-active”. It felt as though he was just trying to beat it into my head that there was legitimately something wrong with me. I hated that just like I had hated it all my life.
He told me that if I wanted to get to remission that I needed to do the Remicade. It was either that or he had nothing more he could do for me. He even offered to have some of his other “nice young Remicade patients” sit down and talk with me about how great it is. All I could picture were mindless drones telling me how great it was to sit for 5 hours at a rip while the mystery chemical solution dripped into their IV bag, threw a tube and needle, and into their arm. I left the office and told him I needed to think about it before commiting. I spoke with my parents and Sara and they convinced me to try it. I cant blame them either. I was down to 130lbs and looked and felt terrible. I was on the toilet half the day with bloody diarrhea. I could barely work and slept half the day. So I caved in. Which is exactly what the doctor wanted. The office manager was quick to get special authorization for the Remicade treatments from my health insurance provider. I was treated like a VIP guest when I walked in for my first round of treatment. It has since dawned on me that the real reason for this is because each bi-weekly dose of Remicade costs a modest $8000-$12000! There is the real reason why the doctor was pushing the drug so hard, and who could blame him?
So there I sat with the needle in my arm and the IV bag hanging over my left shoulder. I sat in a leather recliner in the specially converted Remicade room with my laptop on my lap. I had 5 hours to waste sitting there each time as the unknown chemicals dripped slowly into the saline solution, then into my arm. I couldn’t believe that this was the real solution. My mind raced with thoughts about how I would survive if I couldn’t get my next scheduled treatment. What if I wanted to go on a vacation? What if there was a national shortage of these drugs or a natural disaster? Would I be reduced back to crapting my pants because I cant get my Remicade infusion? The whole situation just seemed wrong to me but I bit my lip and let the cold fluid flow into my veins half hoping it would work while my other half didn’t even caring anymore.
I believe I had four Remicade infusions in total. If I noticed any improvement in my condition, it was very slight. I was still having urgency and often would not make it to the toilet in time. I was in my early twenties and crapting my pants weekly with no ability to control it. I was nearly defeated and ready to give up. I could not understand how this whole situation had gotten so out of control. I had a follow up visit with my doctor and told him that I was going to seek a second opinion. He politely told me that that was fine, but that they are going to recommend the same thing. We looked over the blood red inflamed images of my insides from my colonoscopy a month prior and he told me that I was very sick and needed this treatment. I mustered up a thank you for his concern and left.
We called in a favor to our family friend pediatrician to contact Dr. MacDermott who was the head gastroenterologist for Albany Med Hospital. My mother took me to a Crohns and Colitis Foundation meeting a few months earlier and he was the main speaker. He was a big man, tall and red in the face. I remember at the meeting my mother and I briefly exchanged words with him. He told me Remicade was the answer for me and that was it. The day came for my second opinion appointment. I was running on about 10% energy. My father drove us to the hospital. I was in a daze and was doing the minimum amount of movements possible to conserve what little energy remained. I had significantly reduced my food intake over the last few weeks because simply the less I ate, the less I had to go to the bathroom. I knew it wasn’t a real solution, but frankly at that point I barely even cared anymore.
We entered the hospital and I remember the elevator ride up to the 10th floor. On the ride up I got the urge to go and needed a bathroom stat. I had gotten fairly good at trying to slow my breathing, close my eyes, and try to remain calm because I legitimately had almost no control of my bowels. The door opened and I walked steadfast to the counter where I asked the direction of the nearest bathroom. I made it just in time thankfully. Upon finishing I joined up with my father in the waiting area. Fifteen minutes later and we were called into a room. Dr. MacDermott entered a few minutes later along with two female students who were busy notating information on their clipboards. They wrote down my name, weight, symptoms, all the past drugs I had been on, and what I was (or for that matter wasn’t) eating. They almost seemed impressed at my disease’s resilience to the attempts to treatment. My father and I tried to break the ice in the room and soften the tone of the conversation. We told him that our family friend called specifically to get us this appointment. MacDermott’s response was that yeah, a lot of doctors call for him. It was becoming more and more apparent that we were not so much patients as we were cases and numbers. Medicine is a business and this is about writing a script and moving on to the next one. His script for me was either more Remicade or surgery to remove my entire colon.
So that was it. With no emotions at all, he told me to go down to the first floor to get blood work, then up to the sixth floor to schedule my colon removal surgery. Just like that I had made it from a little dot of blood on the toilet paper, through every single possible drug treatment, all the way to the top of the list with my only option being surgery to cut out my ravaged colon and replace it with an external bag that would collect my feces for me to empty multiple times per day. I went downstairs and got my blood drawn. Once all the vials were filled I got up and slowly walked out of the room. A strong conviction overcame me and I decided that I’ll be darned if I was going to let these people who clearly don’t care about me cut out my colon and have me crapting though a bag at my age! I left the hospital and went home where I immediately threw away all of the drugs I had left.
I read over all my books I had collected again. I decided to start my path to health by juicing. I read about it in the Self Healing Crohns and Colitis book and for the first time it really made sense. It completely contradicted what the doctors and drug companies were saying. Instead of suppressing the symptoms, I was going to actually heal my body with nutrient rich juices from fresh fruits and vegetables. I noticed some very slight improvements personally, but all anyone else saw was my figure continue to whittle away. I juiced for about a week but I was so low on energy I could barely function. I stopped weighing myself eventually but I would guess I reached 110lbs. I had lost over 30% of my body weight. I looked like a concentration camp victim. It was becoming a sick game with myself to see just how long I could go without eating. I felt that I was making small progress but the pressure of my family’s concerns about my weight forced me to continue seeking help. I could still not keep solid food in my system and my insides were in such shambles that they were unable to absorb and nutrients anyways. A Google search of Albany area nutritionists turned up contact info for Vitality Specialists in Schenectady, owned by Ann DeRocher. I called and asked if they thought they could help me with my severe ulcerative colitis. The receptionist told me to come in for their next available appointment.
It was under Ann’s care and guidance that I started to make some progress. It was slow at first but keep in mind the doctors were ready to put me under the knife and remove my entire colon. The fact that my colon was ever able to heal is a complete miracle in and of itself. Ann modified my diet and put me on a variety of supplements. Her initial explanation for what had happened to me and had gotten me to this point was a combination of poor diet that does not benefit the body, and an infestation of parasites in my intestines. I could accept the diet proposition but parasites? Really? She elaborated and said that parasites are a huge problem that is commonly overlooked in the medical community. They can cause a myriad of symptoms to their hosts. Our poor diets in western societies feed these parasites and give them a favorable environment to thrive in while all the while killing the body they live inside. The plan of action was to stop feeding these parasites the kinds of foods they lived off of while at the same time striking a balance of gently removing them from my body while also healing my intestines. I am getting ahead of myself here, but simply put Ann had me eating mostly cooked vegetables, soup broths, and baked potatoes. These were both gentle on the system and the fiber in the vegetables would hopefully help to pass some of the parasites as the food moved through my system. I was also given large doses of probiotics to help get my intestines functioning again.
The human body along with all animals works correctly when in homeostasis. Whether you are comfortable with the idea or not, we rely on all kinds of good bacteria flora inside our intestines for them to function properly. When we are put on strong anti-biotics such as flagyl, which was regularly given to me to kill “bad bacteria”, it has no ability to discriminate between good or bad bacteria and instead kills everything in its path. Ann said I would need to rebuild my healthy bacteria flora in my intestines to get my system operational again.
So there it was, the answer I had been searching for all along and I got it in the first visit. I had a parasite infestation that had been neglected and my immune system had been suppressed religiously with strong drugs to the point of almost completely shutting down. Why couldn’t the doctors tell me this? Why would they let me suffer for as long as I did? Apparently there are only tests available for a handful of different parasite breeds. There are literally thousands of known parasites. We in America and other industrialized nations seem to think that parasites are a problem in third world countries killing off entire villages, but remaining contained to those parts of the world. The truth is that there are parasites among us. They cause terrible symptoms and ruin peoples lives. All the while we go to the doctor and instead of them addressing the real issue, we are given drugs to quiet the symptoms.
One of the main ideas to keep in your mind from this point forward in your life is one I reading a book called The Biology of Belief. This is that any living body, human or not, has really only one main goal for its existence. That is, on the cellular level, to be healthy so that it can survive as long as possible. That is it. After you leave everything else out, the simple objective of any body of cells living together is to simply live as long as possible. It does not need complex, futuristic, and downright dangerous treatments to cure itself. That is because these treatments rarely ever lead to a cure. They just beat symptoms into submission until they are no longer visible, until they morph into another symptom. The only way to actually cure a body of disease is to give it what it really needs. Nutrients. Drugs are not nutrients. High quality unadulterated foods are nutrients. Anything else that you put inside a body and force it to digest and assimilate into its cells are purely by definition toxic poisons that the body must exhaustingly remove at a later time.
Understand and know that your body wants to be healthy. You are a collection of cells and the unifying, underlying mission of your body is to live as long and healthfully as possible. Give your body what it really needs, remove all the toxins that are suppressing it from functioning as it really should, and you will inevitably be restored to optimal health. This may be a lot to absorb the first time you read it, but this is the simple truth. Our bodies have an amazing ability to take care of ourselves. We are self-healing organisms. When you cut your finger, a few days later it is healed. That is miraculous, but we are by no means limited to that. We can heal ourselves of much greater ailments. I did, and I am not some special case. I did the medical path, and I never once met someone with my condition that took the drugs and became healed. Did some of them reach remission? Yes, but that is just a drugged up symptom suppressed state of existence.
Many people will read what I am writing and then immediately think of cancer and say “Ah-hah! How then do you explain this?” Cancer occurs in bodies that are toxic and have never been given the opportunity to rid themselves of these poisons buried within its cells. We as a society need to relearn how to actually care for ourselves and only put health-promoting substances into our bodies and rid ourselves of all the drugs and artificial substances commonly called food these days.
This is what I did under the guidance of my nutritionist and within six months, I was completely healed and cured of an incurable autoimmune disease. Let me restate that. I am cured of an “incurable” disease. I did this without drugs, without surgery, and in just six months. After six months I was completely free of any symptoms and was over 145lbs. Another six months and I was back up to my healthy weight of 165lbs and feeling better than I ever have. So how do we then explain the reasoning behind western medicine’s convoluted approach to treatment of disease? The simple answer is money.
For the record, I want to get one thing straight with my readers. I love money and I am a self-employed car dealer at this time in my life. I work hard to support my lifestyle. That being said, there is something very different about how the massive drug producing conglomerates and medical doctors approach diseases and an opportunity to make billions of dollars while at the same time telling us false information such as there is no cure of auto-immune diseases. That is a lie. They are fundamentally manipulating our fragile minds and turning us into pill popping zombies. If everyone needs a couple of prescriptions, think about how much money they are able to make!
Here in the nutshell is how it works. The public at large has a wide variety of ailments that have come about due to toxins in our air and water, what we eat that is not actually nutrition bearing food, our sedentary and constipated lifestyles, and stress. Instead of addressing each one of these matters with a real solution, the drug companies find chemical concoctions that can manipulate how the body responds to these toxic issues. If they strike the right balance, they can succeed in quieting the symptom while never making the patient actually change their unhealthy lifestyle. These drugs are just additional toxins added to the body, which then put more stress on the liver and subsequent organs and continue to lower the bodies overall quality of health.
Think about all of those commercials for drugs that we are constantly ambushed by anytime we watch TV or read a magazine. They have a treatment for any symptom you can imagine! But there is always a catch. Actually pay attention and listen and understand the potential side effects. Diarrhea, constipation, headaches, birth defects, muscle aches, dizziness, nosebleeds, risk of suicide, and even death. Why would you ever even contemplate taking something that said that when you take this medication, there is a chance that some of these terrible things might happen to you. The reason is because doctors who we place on such a high pedestal tell us that these are the right and only treatment to take. Maybe this has something to do with the fact that drug companies pay drug reps to wine and dine doctors and convince them to promote their drugs. It’s all about money.
It gets worse. These drugs are designed by their creators to be taken forever once they are started. This guarantees long term loyal income streams for the pharmaceutical companies. So there you have it. It’s a perfect plan for getting insanely rich at our health’s expense. All the while, with the proper education and understanding, none of this nonsense would need to be occurring. If the public could begin to learn how to take care of themselves to promote health, they would not need to be completely dependent on drugs that are only hurting and suppressing them further.
So lets work together to turn this around and lets regain our freedom from dangerous medications and surgery. Lets second guess and demand thorough explanations and question the so-called medical authorities. I know that I am not going to single handedly change the industry, but if I can spread the word about what worked for me and so many other people who’s voices are rarely heard, I know I can help many desperate people who’s poor health is ruining their lives.
Everything you need to regain control in your life is within reach. Mind you, this is no easy task. If it was easy to remove stress, drugs, alcohol, junk foods (garbage), and all other toxins in whatever form they appear in our lives from our lives, no one would have these awful problems. That is not the current reality. If you want positive changes in your life, you need to take real brave steps forward to regain your very own control over your very own destiny that is rightly yours to experience.