Eradicating MS was a process. I won’t pretend it was fast, but it did work. The following are not independent steps taken one at a time. They’re merely grouped for explication.
First, I detoxed. A lot. Got off wheat and, in fact, ALL grains for 18 months, twice. I did liver detoxes, colon detoxes, gallbladder detoxes, kidney and bladder detoxes. I cooked with coconut oil to help clear the plaque in my arteries. I took cayenne to strengthen my vascular system. I write all this in the past tense, but I still eat minimal grains (especially wheat), minimal sugar (including fruit), cook with coconut oil, take cayenne (in capsules) every day, and make sure my digestive track empties fully and easily.
Second, I built up. Lots of carrot juice. Lots of broccoli and spinach. Also lots of beets, but that’s mostly because I love beets (fresh cooked, not from a can). Bovine Colostrum. In my case, I made sure I had beef–not hamburger–a couple times a week. Chicken and pork never helped. Shrimp (shellfish) did. Catfish didn’t. Neither did cod, but that’s okay because while I love fish & chips, my body doesn’t appreciate the breading.
Third, I avoided chemicals in food, which means, yeah, I read labels. No, I don’t love to cook and I didn’t go strictly organic. Did try going vegetarian for two years; even went vegan for eight months. Both were BIG mistakes. People with MS need meat. I think I danced around the house for hours the day we discovered that! If nothing else, I made sure I had steak and eggs at least once a week. Protein, protein, protein–from beef–gave me strength. The powders and drinks and what-have-you were useless for me. I countered the cholesterol nonsense (yeah, utter nonsense) with the detoxes and coconut oil and cayenne.
Fourth, I refused–purposely, fervently, and with malice of forethought–to think of myself as fragile. That’s a trap. I never accepted my condition as permanent. I never thought “Why me?” I never let myself slide into victim-hood, never, never, never. I never stopped working, even when I could only work for two or three hours a day–not at a time, a day. I learned to plant my feet so I was steadier. I learned to lean so I didn’t feel like I had to fall. I learned to give my body what it needed at the moment, always reminding it that this condition was not going to stand. I was coming back. I learned to let other people’s problems be theirs, not mine, which reduced a tremendous amount of stress. I learned to release the anger and pain I harbored from my childhood, from my family, from my clients, from my circumstances. This part was sinisterly tough to accept at first, but was an absolute godsend afterwards. I forgave and released and moved on.
Fifth–and this part came only about a decade ago–I drank Noni juice. Drank it for two and a half years before I discovered noni capsules and switched to those. Noni changed my life. Changed my life. I don’t know that it would have been so effective if I hadn’t set my body up for it. (I used to say I was the healthiest disabled person anyone had ever seen.) Noni truncated the disability. I could work for full days. I could tolerate hot weather. My Reynaud’s problems diminished. My night vision improved. My MS symptoms became manageable. For me, Noni was a miracle.
Sixth, after years of all of the above, I started taking an oral chelation provided by one of my clients. It took probably 12-18 months to really make a difference, although I started feeling stronger about 3-4 months into the regimen. My night vision not only came back, my normal vision improved so much I no longer wear bifocals. My balance improved. The bodily functions I had to constantly monitor regulated. Eventually, the MS was pushed back so far, I barely acknowledged it as I went about my daily life.
Finally, I released it. My husband died, and I psychically said, “I was diagnosed with this damn thing the year we met. If you have to leave, take it with you.” He’d passed on by then, but he was still actively hanging around the house. About six months later, I got a terrible, terrible case of the flu. The flu. I hadn’t had a cold or flu last for more than a few hours for decades; the MS, which was virulently killing off the myelin sheath in my body, was not about to let some outside bug exist in my system. I was sick for over a week. A few weeks later, I realized one day that I wasn’t watching my bladder. My vision was fine, and I hadn’t had an optic migraine all summer. My balance was fine. I could hold a cup or a glass or a plate and not be concerned that I might drop it. I felt everything in my body, everywhere–no dead areas, no numbness. No stasis across my back. No problem with heat whatsoever. I felt it gone. I can FEEL it not here anymore.
Sounds crazy, eh? But I don’t have MS anymore. My Reynaud’s is totally under control. My skin is clear, my eyes have no more discolorations, my tongue is pink, rounded, and full, not flat. I have energy. I sleep well no matter what the weather. I can take deep breaths without resistance.
Have I cured everything? Naw. The thoracic outlet compression that took away my career as a professional drummer remains, as does the mitral valve prolapse and slight scoliosis. All structural stuff that doesn’t affect me if I don’t try to pretend I can now go out and be the athlete I never was. Because I hit my head so many times starting so early in my life, I deal with sporadic memory problems. My husband knew how to work around it, but it drives my kids nuts.
That’s the whole story, soup to nuts. If I’ve forgotten anything … well, I do tend to forget things now and then. There’s an actual name for it: intermittent amnesia. I did another one of those house dances the day I finally found it.
It had only taken me 15 years to remember to look it up.