“Our mystical power lies in knowing that any situation can be seen through different eyes, and that our choice to see a situation differently is an invitation for miracles to enter.”
Marianne Williamson
It’s seven o’clock in the morning. Shane’s out of town, it’s the weekend, and my kids wanted to stay up late last night watching movies. So we did. After they all went to sleep, I watched a couple of my own movies. And I think I finally fell asleep sometime around 2:30am. I have a hard time going to sleep at night. I’ve always been a bit of a night owl, and I personally think that early mornings were invented by the devil.
I woke up to Cale’s screaming and ran into his bedroom. He was lying on his bed, screaming that blood curdling, ear drum shattering scream, the one that radiates through his windows so clearly that it actually causes the neighbors’ dogs to start barking. As usual, he sounded like he was dying. But, since he screams like this ALL the time (and never does actually die), I simply went over and tried to pick him up to give him a hug.
As I leaned over his bed, he threw his legs into the air and kicked me in the chest, with both feet, three times. I’m afraid I’m not as quick to defend myself at 7am as I usually am. You really should see the bruises on me these days. I had no idea that bruises consisted of so many different shades of color. Anyway, it just sort of slipped out of my mouth. I shouted, “Oh, screw this Cale!”
The ONLY good thing about having a non-verbal child is that when you do actually cuss, they can’t repeat what you say. There was a time when I would’ve beaten myself up all day long for saying something like this to one of my children. But now, I’m almost completely immune to guilt. It’s quite incredible actually. I’ve recently had people tell me that my children are probably Autistic because I had them via elected c-section, and I’ve actually managed to respond with, “Oh. Okay, that’s cool.”
I think that, as a parent, it’s wise to prepare myself for these kinds of theories, because these kinds of theories (the ones that seem to make Autism the fault of the parents) are everywhere. Not everyone has children, however, and not everyone knows what this kind of “information” can do to a parent when it’s delivered insensitively. So I think it’s wise to be prepared, because I also don’t want to let my own sensitivity snap my mind shut to information that people might have to offer.
Let me talk about this c-section theory for a moment here, just so I don’t leave it hanging out all raw and out of context like this. It has more to do with certain bones in the spine being out of alignment (which may or may not have been pulled out of alignment by the way in which doctors pull babies out of their mama’s tummies during c-sections). These bones are quite tiny and, once out of alignment, are very difficult to get back into place again (requiring many spinal adjustments to get them back in). The problem, however, is that people don’t even know that this is what’s going on. And the doctors won’t tell you to take your kids to a pediatric chiropractor (mine never have anyway).
These bones that are out of alignment in the spine, sit behind nerves that affect vital organ systems such as the liver and intestines, causing malfunction in these systems. One of the possible malfunctions is a rather complex theory called “Leaky Gut Syndrome.”
I thought I already knew all about Leaky Gut Syndrome, but I didn’t. I knew about the gut not being able to properly break down gluten and casein (gluten and casein are the proteins found in wheat, barley, rye, and dairy products), and that these partially digested proteins “leak” through the lining of the gut wall directly into the bloodstream. Once in bloodstream, these partially digested proteins are carried into the brain. They then mix with the dopamine in brain, and the resulting chemical is an opiate. It’s not unlike giving a child drugs, drugs that not only turn them into little addicts, but that also affect development and intensify Autistic (neurological) symptoms, the severity of which depending upon how badly the gut is affected (how much undigested gluten and casein actually “leaks” into the bloodstream).
I knew all of this was happening in my daughter several years ago, because I watched her literally crave toast and chocolate milk like a little drug addict. In fact, for several years she ate nothing what-so-ever besides toast, wheat cereals, crackers, cookies, and chocolate milk, all while getting skinnier and skinnier and crazier and crazier. She was tested for Celiac multiple times (they even did an endoscopy of the upper intestinal tract), but because there was no immune system response or damage to the upper intestinal tract, they concluded that not only did she not have Celiac, but that nothing else was wrong either other than a little acid reflux, which they immediately put her on medication for. When I suggested that they check her lower intestines, the G.I. told me that, in his high and mighty opinion, there wasn’t any reason to.
As I far as I know, conventional doctors won’t tell you about, or even discuss, the Leaky Gut Syndrome theory, because if they did the pharmaceutical companies might cease to make their billions of dollars every year. I was never much of a conspiracy theorist before I had my kids. And it’s not that I think they’re organized enough to have created an actual conspiracy to suppress these kinds of theories, I just think there’s a lot of greed involved in the medical community. “Just follow the money trail” is what my husband always says. It absolutely affects medical development. I find it quite fascinating that pharmaceutical drugs, not actual cures, have been our doctors’ only answers.
It wasn’t until I removed gluten and casein from Isabel’s diet that she quit tantruming, began talking, began gaining weight, and began to develop normally. To this very day, however, if I’m not watching, she’ll sneak a bag of Oreos into the bathroom and eat the entire thing. My oldest son, Alden, can eat about three Oreos before he gets slightly nauseous and doesn’t want anymore. Isabel, however, will eat the entire bag and then BEG for more.
As it turns out, removing gluten/casein is only one piece of the puzzle. For the past three years now, Cale has been on a gluten/casein free diet, and it hasn’t done a damn thing for him. You cannot imagine what it’s done to me to do the exact same things with both of my Autistic kids, and watch one improve so dramatically as result, while the other stays exactly the same. Like I said, however, I’ve only had one piece of the puzzle.
Where was I anyway? Oh yeah, I’ve locked Cale in his bedroom so that he can’t start destroying the house, and I’ve tried to go back to sleep. But since then, I’ve heard every single item in his bedroom hit the walls and the floor with a crash. Don’t worry, Shane (God bless him) has screwed all of the big furniture to the walls so that Cale can’t pull them over onto himself.
I can’t go back to sleep with all this noise, so here I am writing about Leaky Gut Syndrome. But where was I to begin with? Oh yeah – the faith led journey of love and miraculous natural healing. Shit.
I prayed for an Autism cure (please read part one of this series before you read on, otherwise you’re going to think I’m a total nut job – but I guess that doesn’t matter – do whatever you’d like). The next day I bought a book on natural healing, bought vitamin B6 pills (which Cale threw up), and then read the story “A Bad Case of Stripes” to my daughter.
The day after that, I was driving down Broadwater Avenue and I saw the bill board sign of a healer that I used to see when we lived in Montana before. I hadn’t seen her in years, and I had no idea she’d moved to that location. It was a complete coincidence, so I started taking Cale to this healer immediately.
During Cale’s first appointment, she told me exactly which bones are out of place in Cale’s spine. She also informed me that she probably won’t be able to get these bones back into place through his feet (she does reflexology and, in doing this on me, she’s always been able to get my spine to go into back into place, but I guess that the bones that are out in Cale’s spine are too difficult to move via the feet). We discussed the possibility of a chiropractor, but she doesn’t think Cale can sit still long enough or relax enough for a chiropractic treatment to be effective at this time. The other thing that happened during that first appointment was that this healer became very concerned about how toxic my son’s little body is.
I think that an important thing to understand about intuitive healers is that they can often tell you things that are wrong, but they cannot often tell you WHY. This is because they don’t know why. They only know that it is. This goes against everything in me, I’m afraid. I really like for things to make sense. However, I had prayed for God’s will and this was what was in front of me, so I went with it. She couldn’t tell me why Cale’s body is toxic (whether it’s due to the improper breakdown of nutrition, or due to all the psychiatric medication he’s been on for the past year and a half). All she could tell me was that it is.
“Do you know that he has headaches? Do you know that his head hurts all the time?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
I do know that. I can’t tell you how, but I do. She told me how to start detoxing his body (castor oil packs over his liver and lower abdomen every night for three nights on, three nights off, etc.). Do you think I’m crazy yet? What I actually am is desperate. I do the castor oil packs while he’s asleep at night, and the next day he is a good mood for the entire day. It’s amazing. However, if you overdo them (do them every night for too many nights in a row) you detox the body too fast and this produces bad skin rashes. We found this out the hard way.
During our second appointment, this healer said to me, “I’ve discovered what Cale’s problem is! I know exactly what his problem is!”
A flash of fresh hot hope rose to the surface of my skin, almost as if my blood had caught fire, and I tried, somewhat successfully, to suppress all the excitement and desperation in my voice, “Oh yeah?! What?!!”
“He’s a genius!” she exclaimed.
The hope drained instantly, leaving nothing but a small smoldering pool in the bottom of my stomach to make me nauseous. The doctors say he has the brains of an infant (an eighteen month old to be exact). But the healer says he has the brains of a genius. I thought back to the children’s story I’d read to Isabel, and reminded myself of the possibility that someone is whatever someone else sees him/her as. And I decided, for just a moment, not to snap my mind shut.
“Wow,” I replied, rather unenthusiastically, “a genius huh?”
“Yes,” she said, “The problem is that all of the information, every detail of everything that goes on around him, enters his brain at the exact same time. It’s very overwhelming.”
Now, I hadn’t told this healer anything at all about the sensory issues, or anything else, that comes along with Autism. And she had made it perfectly clear when she agreed to see Cale that she didn’t have any experience with or knowledge about Autism.
“Sensory information does, in fact, enter his brain at an overwhelming rate,” I said.
“Everything else does too,” she replied.3.3..3.5.5….5.52.52
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Sorry about that. The little genius is up now, trying to participate in the production of my blogpost. He likes to giggle while watching me type, but then he wants to type too. Where was I? Oh yeah. Everything enters his brain at the same time.
“I think that if his body can get healed up, he could be the next Beethoven or Mozart. In fact, I think he might have the ability to blow both of them straight out of the water. Does he like music?”
“Uh-huh,” I answered, still unenthusiastically.
“And I think he might be telepathic,” she said.
Now, this stretched my already struggling open-mindedness a little too far. I was seriously trying not to vomit by that point. But then, when I put Cale to bed later that night, I looked him in the eyes and thought (I didn’t say it, I only thought it), “If you can read mommy’s mind Cale, point to your nose.”
He didn’t point to his nose. But he did reach up and put his finger on my nose. And then he said, “No… no… noo.”
“Oh, ALRIGHT,” I said to God, and I decided to keep taking him to the crazy healer for a while longer. If nothing else, it’s a good exercise for finding out just how open minded I can get. But I’ll have to tell you more about later I’m afraid, because the telepathic genius will be destroying my house soon if I don’t attend to him.
