An uncle once informed me that I was wasting my time and money with alternative healing because all it did was make me feel better. That the almighty diagnosis had absolutely no beneficial effect on my well-being escaped his notice entirely. I had been diagnosed with heavy metal poisoning within a few years of my adventure at the dishonest dentist, but the source was a mystery to the medical professionals I paid. And even if they had been willing to admit that the source had been implanted in my teeth by one of their fellow medical professionals, they did not have the knowledge or tools to deal with it.

I also got a diagnosis in 1990 from the UMass interdisciplinary pain management center in Worcester Mass, courtesy of the same uncle. The program had a two-year waiting list, but my uncle persisted in calling twice a day every day for weeks. There was a rare cancellation one morning when he called, and he was informed that I was in if we could get from Brooklyn, Connecticut to the hospital in Worcester within the hour. UMass is a teaching hospital so when we arrived,  the head doctor, a couple of interns and whoever all else all were all in the examining room. My appointment started out with the doctor informing me that since I had a psychiatric referral, there was nothing they could do for me. The only reason they were going to examine me was because they were a teaching hospital.

After being poked and prodded and questioned and left to sit on a metal table for some hours, I received an apology. The whole crew came back in and the head doctor said ‘We would like you to come to visit our med students in class this coming fall so they can see what should NOT be dismissed as hysteria and psychiatric disorders.’ And he went on ‘You are the worst case of myo-fascial pain syndrome we have ever seen. You are totally disabled with no hope of any improvement ever. And we will see if we can keep you at your current level of functioning with physical therapy, a TENS unit,  3000 mgs of NSAID’s and micro-doses of Elavil every day.’

About a year after that I ended up with kidney failure, adrenal collapse, and all the symptoms of multiple sclerosis. It turned out that my body had been storing the toxic waste and heavy metals in my inflamed and scarred myo-fascial tissue. Myo-fascial tissue is connective tissue. It’s part of all the white stuff that is disregarded in anatomy books that label all the important parts of your body. It is not respected or understood by western medicine but even they notice that it holds your entire body together, and absorbs the stresses of moving around. When I tore the scar tissue apart with the physical therapy and the NSAID’s knocked down the inflammation, the mercury began to circulate through my body, tearing up my kidneys, and settling in my nervous system.

At the time I was giving riding lessons. One of my students was the receptionist for a doctor in town who had mercury poisoning himself and was on the leading edge of treatment. Unfortunately his practice was closed to new patients. However when my riding student showed up one day when I was lying on the floor unable to stand, she looked down and at me and announced: “You need to see the doctor!”

I said, from my position on the floor. “Yes, but his practice is closed.”

She replied, “But I make his appointments and I want to ride!’

So I was in with the doctor and  once again was the worst case he had ever seen. After a very rough start where we  ended up agreeing that we both dreaded the whole process, I became his guinea pig. First he tried his mercury detox protocols on himself, then on me then, and if it worked than  on the other patients.

Getting the mercury out was the turning point where I stopped getting sicker and began to find ways to heal.

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