“At the age of 16, I felt as if I were 90. I went from being a gymnast, musician, and honor student, to a lethargic medical mess. After a week-long hospital stay for an abscessed tonsil, I did not feel well again for seven years. I began to ache and drag, always waiting to regain the coporal vigor I once enjoyed. After frequent complaints to my mother of how my body felt sore, achy, tired, and weak, she took me to see our family doctor. He referred me to a pediatric rheumatologist at Loma Linda Children’s Hospital in Loma Linda, California. I remember being quite optimistic and confident that the doctors there would be able to help me relieve my pain. I showed them where it hurt and explained what it felt like. I was tested for various diseases and a diagnosis was given. What causes this fibromyalgia, and how do I get rid of it? These are the obvious next questions after one is diagnosed with any illness. My trusted physician explained that this was a “new” condition, that it was unusual but not unheard of in a person of my age, and that there was intense research being done, but there is no cure. He said I could grow out of it, that it was not a degenerative disease, some get better, some get worse. I was crushed by the thought of trudging through life in pain, pretending as if all was well. It became necessary to pretend I felt better than I did. I couldn’t bear to watch my mother cry anymore because she felt so helpless. She felt my pain as did the rest of my family.
When was this nightmare going to end? I don’t remember the first drug I was prescribed, or the fifth, I do remember the last. My appointments consisted of a few questions about how I was feeling, and if the prescribed medication was doing the trick. The answer was always no and the treatment was adjusted accordingly. Different drug or different doses, I was allowed to choose. I chose to stop taking liver toxic, mind numbing drugs.
This decision was made after I got into the car in my pink fuzzy slippers, was driving around, not knowing where or why I was going. I was taking Elivel, an antidepressant. Antidepressants in certain doses are often given to patients suffering from fibromyalgia. After I informed Dr. Roberts that I would no longer be testing out any more chemical concoctions, he told me I was depressed. I began to cry in the doctor’s office and he asked my mother to leave the room. He asked if there was something I wanted to say in confidence to him, I did. I told him I was not depressed I was just in constant pain. I was always tired and sluggish. I was having to literally roll out of bed and drag myself to school, achy and miserable. What can I do?! If you cannot help me, then who can?! I left that day frustrated and longing for answers. That doctor never once asked about what I was eating or what my bowel movements were like. I knew it would be my responsibility to take my health into my own hands, stomach, and every other part I owned. I decided to experiment on myself and pay close attention to what I ate and how I felt afterwards. I vowed to finish medical school, my life long dream, and find a cure for the ever present fibromyalgia. I eliminated fast food and soda initially. I did feel better, but still not well.
After trudging through college and work, in agony for seven years, I was able to heal thanks to Dr. Max Gerson.
My older sister called one day to ask if I needed a job. The timing was perfect, I did need a job, and Gerson. All I knew at first about my sister’s job was that she made juice for some guy. A whole new world of living fresh, organic, nutritious foods came to my attention. The kitchen was regarded as the nurse’s station, and the food as medicine. My boss Tim encouraged me to drink juice, eat the living food, and even sent me on my maiden voyage (with coffee?? Charlotte) to the “healing room” also known as the bathroom. The almost immediate change in my physical health was astounding. I was for the first time having no pain. After seven years of feeling awful, this was a foreign concept. My skin which had become riddled with acne, began to clear. Even the old scars started to fade. My mental clarity, energy, and mood returned.
There was and is a cure for fibromyalgia and every other chronic degenerative disease. As an individual who has always been fascinated with the human body’s infinitely intricate inner workings, I am forever grateful to Dr. Max Gerson for his genius and courage. I am forever grateful to Charlotte and all others who perpetuate his message. The basic components of all things are essentially the same. Electrically charged atoms bump into one another, combining, repelling, and making up not only our bodies, but every other substance in the entire universe. The body is constructed from the simplest of elements, and arranged into endlessly complex systems that must be nurtured and not just fed. Each individual must claim responsibility for his or her own construction or demise. I am just one living example of the potent effectiveness of respecting the intimate relationship between our internal and external metabolism. Organic juice, food, and coffee enemas saved my life. I am so happy to be alive.”