Alright—those of you who read my work know my name is not ASIA; it’s Joyce, but I have ASIA. It walks with me daily—every hour, minute and second. And I don’t mean the continent: I mean the disease.
I began my journey towards knowing last year. I was dying. My friends knew it and, finally, I knew it. I was in constant, horrible pain. I was on four pharmaceutical products. I took a roll of the dice and weaned off all four. Hell—I was dying anyway—what the heck.
To my surprise, I recovered some health. My kidneys, which appeared to be in decline, improved dramatically; my eyes shot up to 20/20; my pain disappeared; my constant state of dizziness vanished. Damn–even my plumbing is in near-exquisite shape. It boggled my mind. A profession I had relied on for my health? Well—things have changed. The transition from the Hippocratic Oath to a business model had not entirely escaped me, but I had no idea the progression had completed.
It seems everyone is now an employee of industry. Seeking medical care is now akin to going to Walmart. Insurances have only streamlined the path towards conventional medicine—like going to the dollar store. If I need anything else, it’s out of pocket and more like Saks Fifth Avenue
Doctors are of the human species. Brave souls who take the risk of making decisions that may pit us against them. I always keep on mind my brothers and sisters are just as fallible as me. I’ve seen the frivolity of law drive up costs and drive up the profession’s need to protect itself. But it’s gone too far.
Omnipotence and arrogance pervade the atmosphere of places we go for help. When I first experienced it, I was confused. Gurney meat-racks seemed to abound, and patient needs went into the hopper.
I realized if I was to recover from these pharmaceutical products, it was on me. I had suffered side-effect after side-effect, but the new mantra—dogma if you will—is that “just because a side-effect is on the insert, doesn’t mean it happens.”
I had no idea that my health was declining from what I was told to take. I did know I was suffering, but I chided myself again and again that it was because I was aging. It wasn’t. I have a tendency to blame myself even though the fault is not mine. That has changed, too.
I dumped the people I had charged with my care. What these people seemed to forget is that I must actually walk in the door for them to make money off of me. I relented and tried one more institution. I had read promising articles about this place in which people there were railing about changes not conducive to good care.
I was disappointed by the first form on the clipboard—the PHQ-2 form—a cursory two questions which, when answered, were to determine if I was depressed. (That’s coming in another article.) It was commissioned by Pfizer (I had an email conversation with one of the creators of the PHQ-9 which may have resulted in the adaptation to the PHQ-2.) and adopted in such a way that I wonder if that form is the sole source of our depression statistics in my country. (Note that the last time I peeked, Pfizer’s biggest division was its psychiatric drugs.) I refused to answer either of the two questions, but an entry was made on my behalf regardless. I’ve learned from recent experiences that signing anything handed to you could have devastating consequences—so I not only signed nothing, I took the forms with me. I neglected to take the PHQ-2 form with me, which resulted in an entry on my behalf. Silly me.
The new neurologist mumbled something about an atypical lesion on my cervical spinal cord.
“Doesn’t look like MS,” she said. “Not much going on in the brain” (I could have told her that. Time to smirk.)
I, at least, gleaned enough information to steady my course. I do not have MS—I have ASIA:
Autoimmune/Inflammatory Syndrome caused by Adjuvants.
I have an atypical lesion on my cervical spinal cord (which I suspect will eventually cut off my respiration) and this:
Collection Date: 01/30/2019 12:57:00
Received: 02/01/2019 12:13:06
Report: 02/01/2019 11:54:00
F ANA Pattern Homogenous A
A Homogenous or Rim pattern is suggestive of autoantibodies
to nDNA, DNA-histone complexes, or deoxyribonucleoprotein.
A Speckled or Centromere pattern is suggestive of
autoantibodies to Sm, RNP, Scl-70, SSA, SSB, or other
extractable nuclear antigens.
A Nucleolar pattern is suggestive of autoantibodies to
F ANA Titer 1:80 A
Testing overall is suggestive of Lupus. But I have no symptoms of Lupus that I know of. The combinations represented by all my tests are suggestive of ASIA. The condition is most likely caused by medicine. As such, I am on my own. Medicine not only does not fix its mistakes, it rarely admits them.
My immune system has gone bonkers and is eating me up. I have little doubt that I will eventually die—from the results of a medical procedure. My only hope? The medical community—a medical community that has been diligently trying to wipe the existence of ASIA off the map.
Nope–the GodFather of Autoimmunity ( Dr. Yehuda Shoenfeld) did not define this disease. It cannot didnot couldnot exist. Look–papers are not on the internet;(they were, but science is being systematically stripped off the Internet.)
When I stop breathing, it will go like this:
Okay brain needs oxygen. Time for chest to expand.
Chest will say”Sorry–nobody’s home.”
I think it’s finally time for the lament I’ve tried to avoid.
SUCKS TO BE ME!!!
Copyright 2019 Joyce Bowen