Face Pop Results

I went to get my nasal specific and an incredibly unexpected thing happened. I was cured of my epilepsy? No, not yet, although it probably helped.

I showed up to be the second demo subject for a lesson on technique. One of my favorite instructors/doctors who I trust, (this is big, since having a nasal specific requires such foreign invasion), did the first middle concha. (you'll remember from the previous anatomy explanation). This is the easiest and less invasive... perhaps the one that most grade school boys use as pencil holders to horrify adults.

Anyway, it was as traumatizing as I thought it would be - just get up the guts to have your face moved, that's all. I did hear it crunching around and there was a spastic "Get this thing out of my head" moment each time.

Then to the superior concha (upper). The right side was too small for the balloon to fit into, which was uncommon. If he'd had a smaller balloon, he may have been able to get into the space, but not that day. The left was larger and he was able to get the device inserted.

One, two pumps and a quick release - just as before. But it wasn't the same this time.

I think there was a short pause before my mind and being was filled with sadness. A deep sadness that was so unexpected. I felt sudden tears well up and my face contorted with agony.

"She's not feeling pain..." my doctor said to the group, "This isn't physical pain."

There were about 12 other medical students in the room, but my friend Emily, who was holding my hand said, "It's o.k., let it out. Just let it go."

I love Emily.

So I did. I cried and cried there on the table with all sorts of people, most who I didn't know all that well, hiding my face in my hand. After a few minutes, which must have been a really long time for those awkwardly watching. My doctor talked quietly to the group about points to hold on a patient's head when they have some kind of PTSD to make them feel more grounded.

I said, "Wow..." At least I hadn't peed all over myself - that would have been another option.

"Wow what?" The doctor asked.

I fumbled for words, "Uhhh... that was... a strong reaction." I blotted my running mascara and red eyes as my colleagues softly chuckled a little.

"When you're ready, we'll do the lower ones."

I was shocked. Hadn't I been through enough? Good God man, you're a maniac! I wanted it done though, so after getting my breathing under control and coming back into the classroom, he did the inferior conchas. These made me cry out a little because they're so close to the back of your throat it's a reaction. I tongued the inside of my mouth where the bone had just moved - it was pretty sore.

After that, although I had wanted to learn the technique, I couldn't concentrate. My doc said that I should try to stick around so he could teach me, but I was in emotional shock. Totally bewildered and needing some reflection. Where did THAT come from?? He said it was a good spot to move.

We went into another room as the students practiced because he offered a "clearing technique" using EFT. In this technique he asked what I remembered; why was I crying? Since I didn't know he said, "If you could finish this sentence, what would you say right now, feeling how you feel:

'I really want to let go of the feeling of __________"

Everyone has their own answer to this. EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique) concentrates on stimulating Chinese acupuncture points as you think about an issue. So, we took my feeling and worked with it. I don't know if it works - I was just befuddled at why I just lost total control over my emotions with no current reason in front of everyone. I cried off and on all day! That's a lot when you're not sure what you're crying about.

Big experience. I still have to go back for that asymmetrical right side. I'm highly suspicious of a reaction to it... emotionally. But hey, if that emotional issue is stuck in between my bone, get it out of there!

I've fallen off the wagon with my diet again though, so I feel a little too inflammatory to do it right now.

Oh yeah, I've been doing a research study at the hospital that I finished... hopefully. There were about 10 epilepsy patients who let us poke and prod for an entire day hooked up to the EEG and equipment. I worked hard to get the last of the data input today!

Nasal Specific Therapy

This Friday I go in for a "nasal specific".

This is a procedure in which a balloon is inserted far up into the nose into the conchae of the nasal cavity. If you've ever seen a kid stick a pencil wa-a-a-a-ay up his nose and wondered where in the world it was going, that's where.

You can see in the picture that the bone in the back, the sphenoid bone, is right next to the brain. The skull is made up of many bones, each with a little bit of motion. If you get hit with a baseball bat or come out of the birth canal awkwardly, these bones can move into abnormal positions like any other bones can.

So the nasal specific technique gets more involved, so read on.

At the annual convention in 2009, a naturopathic physician presented a case of a young girl with uncontrolled epilepsy that he had successfully done two nasal specifics for, resolving her seizures entirely. She came up on stage and everyone applauded. A malformation or an irritation on the brain can cause seizures and it seems that it what she had, for one reason or another.

Back to the technique.

The deflated balloon is inserted up into the nose far into one of the 6 cavities (3 on each side). It's attached to a pump, like the ones you see on a blood pressure cuff. The practitioner holds your forhead and squeezes your nostrils closed. Then, there's a sudden burst of air (usually 2 when I have seen it) and a quick deflation.

It's quite violent, actually, because the body can't help but react to this pressure that feels so inconducive to life. I mean, really, when does your inner cranium feel that unless you've just had major trauma to your face? The patient's legs bounce on the table and they sometimes make a small cry. They might hear cracking as the bones of their skull shift back into place and it can be painful. Definitley weird. Then they tear up reflexively, stunned and assessing the situation. In a matter of minutes, a large bolus of mucous that's been stuck up in one of the sinuses will commonly slide down and they'll have to spit it up.

Then 5 more times.

I am not looking forward to it, but, hey, if it helps people, I should try it on myself and then see if my hands develop the authority to do it on someone else.

I'm taking some major nervine herbs before that, I'll tell you.

Homeopathy... surprise!

I walked out of the consult room after discussing a possible treatment plan for our patient with a constellation of symptoms. I was the assistant today and we were about to suggest some frightening laboratory tests

Angela rushed around the corner, her white coat filleted behind her. "Dr. Brigsby is looking all over for you!"

"Wha?" I turned around, as did my primary acting doctor, the resident and doctor, (who happens to be my hero).

"He's looking all over for you," she continued, out of breath, "You had an appointment and he's looking for you."

...
um...
I looked at my hero. A-a-a-awkward. Did I mention that I had just applied for his mentor shift for next year, which is extremely difficult to get? He grinned. Oh God, what does that mean.

So, I went back to the room trying to process, let go of my patient, (I'm only an assistant, but I'm still invested in my patients), decide between looking like an idoit for leaving the shift, (though now I wasn't necessary as that was our last patient), or completely inconsiderate by canceling an appointment that I had to be waitlisted on for a month and a half?

"Just go," whispered an upperclassman, "He doesn't care."

I asked if I could go and he said I wouldn't get the clinic hours for being there that day. I went downstairs, taking off my white coat and struggling to change into a patient.

Dr. Brigsby smiled warmly as I entered and apologized profusely, "These things happen, these things happen - go ahead and have a seat" He has a bushy well groomed beard and glasses that sit half way down his nose. "O.k., let's get started. What would you like to tell me?"

"...about me or why I'm here or..."

"Just tell me."

Ah yes, I know this strategy. Usually, a patient will tell you everything you need to know within the first 5 minutes if you just let them run with it. They'll cover most of the structured questions you would have asked and very often questions you wouldn't have thought to ask. For homeopathy, the things that are important are the aspects of life that the patient finds are emphasized in their mind. It's crucial to see how a patient looks at a situation.

So, I told him about seizures, night terrors, my triggers, what it feels like and the intense, worse-than-death terror that paralyzes me right before I lose consciousness. I told him about growing up in my non-ideal situations, but what I found surprising is that he didn't want to know what injustices happened to me but how I reacted to them, how I felt about them. He wanted to know about the bed I used to hide under and draw on the underside of the cardboard bottom. He wanted to know where I went to cry and why. He wanted to know about my dreams and fears.

With all my studies of homeopathy in a classroom setting, it was a LOT different than being a patient. It is quite a bit more uncomfortable to have someone asking you for the first time how you felt when things were going on and "tell me more about that". Ack! What? I've never thought of how I feel about that or why I reacted like that.

So, after a little over an hour he said, "O.k., I think I have enough. Anything else?" (Which I think was more of a polite gesture being that he already had enough information).

I headed back up to the conference room where I tried to become a student doctor again discussing how bananas inhibit phospholipase and are contraindicated (bad for) people with asthma as a result.

I'm keeping in mind that he will see enough of me to get the best constitutional remedy. To think anything else would be self destructive because I think in homeopathy a bit of intention involved.

I had Cake

O.k., this isn't the same cake - this one was from a few months back with some lovely wine and a chess game. What I had this time was a fatty piece of gluten saturated, sugary goodness with a mass amount of coffee. I was so depressed... I pretty much still am, but that was 'jump off a bridge light contemplation' mood.

I feel very overwhelmed. I opted for the cake over acupuncture because I forgot to make an appointment & it was just too much for me. Then my friend said, "You should go get acupuncture." Then it really didn't appeal to me.

It's funny - without Anna & Sarah investing their time and energy into me, it would be a lot easier for me just to quit this whole epilepsy cure thing and live like everyone else for a while with medication. But then, my 67 year old self wouldn't like that option. Just gotta work on self preservation at the same time as cure, if that makes any sense.

Acupuncture and Craniosacral Therapy

I had more acupuncture and Chinese herbs on Wednesday between work and classes. Sarah, my friend and student practitioner, needled different points under a different doctor. These hurt less. The first doctor was from China and this one is a Westerner. I felt like I communicated more with this one, but he looked at my tongue less.

I realized that I twitch when I have needles in me. I thought I may have been imagining it the first time, but it's quite apparent that something about the situation makes my body spasm. I try to imagine laying there without needles in me - same room and conditions - and I really don't think I'd twitch like that. You know when you're falling asleep and your limbs hop around a bit trying to test out if they're truly still attached. Probably happens more due to a lack of exercise; a silent musculoskeletal protest. Anyway, it's an interesting phenomenon.

On Friday, my good friend Anna gave me a cranial sacral & Swedish massage between classes and clinic. She's a professional masseuse and herbalist who ended up here on a quest to be a naturopathic physician. It's a sweet combination of life experience.

Cranial Sacral Therapy is a type of bodywork that I hadn't considered for my epilepsy cure regimen until she mentioned it.


Mind you, as with all therapies with the exception of medications, (which, I might add, YOU are a scientific experiment for being that most studies evaluate effects at 6-9 months & not long term to get on the market for cash flow), this one is disputed. You read a Wiki article on Craniosacral and you may notice "they say" statements. I find it disappointing that drugs that end up killing people do not express the same hypothetical-based language.



Anna was able to feel that my dura felt a bit tight. She's felt hundreds of bodies in her work as a massage therapist developing a skill of touch that one can't learn in the books of medical school, even naturopathic, as it takes time. I've watched brain surgeries before, the waves of cerebral spinal fluid pulsating with the beat of the aorta, and appreciate the need for adequate CSF circulation. She stretched my neck by curling her fingers around the base of my skull and just holding that tension. I felt my head sink closer to her fingers in about a minute and a half. It felt really nice AND a soft pop happened somewhere behind my face - likely in the sphenoid bone. Not sure what pulled that, but I'll buy that for a dollar.

Oh - and Anna spent an hour massaging me without any compensation. I have to figure out something to do for her, jeez.

Both of these therapies make it obvious to see how hard it is to shut my brain off. Thoughts of projects, how to thank the person giving me treatment, things to chat about, the future, the past and other random, "I wonder where they got that clock" thoughts are a constant barrage. It's obscene. Last night as I was falling asleep I heard chaos in my head - not true sound, but sort of the thought of sound. Stressful. I had to shut it off and focus on my belly breathing. So, I try to focus on the movement, healing each cell in my body through chemical and energetic mediators. It's a VERY different thing to concentrate on healing instead of everything else I have to do.

I've also started to walk or do yoga every morning. This one is slow going, lemme tell ya. I tape my medical school lectures, so I can justify the time walking. Yoga takes more focus though and I'm pretty much toppling over on a regular basis when attempting to contort my body and hold it there. Free though - better than money in a gym. I'm starting with 20-30 minutes.

So, the quest continues for my cure. I continue to palliate my issue with lamotrigine, but I've worked down to half the dose I'm supposed to be on; from 300mg to 150mg, in the last year. I was really disappointed when not a naturopath, homeopath or allopath would take me off of my medications, but I just recognized something - unlike my first neurologist who said he'd fire me as a patient if I came off of my medications, the doctors I'm seeing at the naturopathic college simply tell me not to and document like crazy that they said not to come off of my meds under their care. They still manage treating my entire body and mind as a unique case. If nothing more, they prevent further pathology and illness. In reality, I think the doctors there think I may be able to do it - depending on my individual case and motivation to change my lifestyle - but they have to cover their asses in this sue-happy world. Honestly, if they said 'yes, go ahead' and I had a seizure on a pitchfork I'd have to say that I was the one who went through with it. It's irresponsible to trust your doctor unconditionally - they're all human. They should never make decisions for you.

I believe I've never quite committed myself to making big changes to address the cause of my epilepsy. I lean on Lamictal because I like to drink occasionally, stay up late studying, eat whatever I want, turn away from mental/emotional issues I've accumulated and ignore what my body is trying to tell me is no good. I never made time until now. I'm getting more educated and motivated by the day. :)

Choppity

So I decided to continue my course, but then I did a very thoughtless, (or unconsciously purposeful), move. I didn't chop my pills in half! I was taking them this morning, feeling rather "normal" when I realized that for the past day I was taking 100mg, twice a day. Crap! Just automatic.

I like to fluctuate my blood levels of anticonvulsant medication. It's fun.

So, I made a conscious decision to take 3/4 pill for the next few weeks. That cuts me down by a very rough estimate of 50mg/day. I have to get through midterms anyway and that's a lot of stress.

Bummer.

Ugh.

I am so tired and down - just was reminded that I actually don't function like a regular human being. It's fun to pretend and all...

I tapered myself off another 100mgs. Fast taper, I know - maybe I should have waited a week to come down from 1 pill to 3/4 of a pill. I got impatient and lazy about chopping. If I knew it was going to chop the same quantity consistently, perhaps this would be more appealing.

My argument for discontinuing my medication, like most people with chronic medications for the brain, was that it isn't doing anything, it's expensive, provides inconvenient dependence and doesn't make you feel great. I don't have too many side effects, if at any, to complain about except for the fact that I know the pathways in the body that are effected by my drugs now. It's troublesome being dependent - like when I nearly got snowed in in Boston this year and didn't have a weeks worth of pills on me.

I went to a seminar today on natural treatments of women's cancers, came home and started to cook. Quaint, not a lot of stress. But as I tipped my head back to take a drink of my fiber detox concoction, ZAP!

I had brown chunky fiber all over my chest. I stood there in disbelief. I totally forgot about the myoclonis - the very thing I believe my doctor was actually treating. I kind of lumped it together; myoclonis was a step to the mac daddy. It's just a warning sign. As the brown liquid dripped slowly onto the kitchen floor, reality sunk in.

Usually, my myoclonis is subtle with an eerie feeling of wrongness. That means I should get back to bed or whatever and it's usually in the morning. This was entirely night time, not tired, feeling relaxed AND, the biggest part, it was not subtle. What if I spilled all over myself every day? What if I threw my laptop? What if I was driving along??

Sucks.

Maybe it's because:
I pushed the tapering too fast
I had plenty of sugar
I had plenty of coffee
I ate bread (gluten)
I got up early
I used a lot of brain power at the seminar

I... I... well, it wouldn't have happened if I were on my pills the way I have been for years and that I know. I was reminded today that these pills are doing something - even if it feels like I'm completely normal and they're the problem.

:(

So, I'm going to have some rose hip and peony root tea while I do a castor oil pack and think about my next move. I was so excited - a whole list of things, plans, etc. What a reminder.