I grew up in Houston, TX and currently live in Vail, CO. I have had a very active lifestyle participating in as many activities as possible. I played every sport growing up and continue to play every chance I get. I have had a very healthy lifestyle and have always taken health seriously. Besides my once “incurable” ailment which is explained below, I have been perfectly healthy. However, when I was 12 ½ years old I started having stomach pains. This continued for the next 13 years. The following pages tell my story, the pain and suffering for not only me but everyone around me, the trials and tribulations, the Dr.’s, the tests, the attacks, the sicknesses etc…all in search for the cure. The funny part about it all is that all of the Dr.’s I went to (and there were many) said that there was nothing wrong with me. They ran their tests, poked me, prodded me, made me drink goo, scanned me, x-rayed me, etc…every test result was negative. I also endured some very interesting diets for quite some time. Finally, the cure ended up being very close by to where I ended up moving and settling down.
For a long time I have wanted to get my story in the public for everyone to read. Hopefully, if you are in similar shoes that I once was, you will be motivated to give NAET a try.
I am not getting paid by any doctors or chiropractors to write this book. NAET is something I truly believe in and is the only thing that helped cure me and get me back to a normal lifestyle. I am doing this solely because I know there are others out there who could benefit from hearing my experience and who will live a better life after curing their own ailment. With that said, here is my story. Please read on and comment when you feel the need.
When I was 12 ½ years old I came down with a stomach bug. This eventually turned into flu like symptoms that, then, turned into a stabbing pain in the lower right side of my abdomen. After a few tests it was obvious I had appendicitis and my ruptured appendix needed to be removed. After a weeks stay in the hospital (back then, 1988, the hospital stay for appendicitis was that long) and everything checking out smoothly I went home. I had a normal recovery and after another week I was fine, up running around again… appendix out, no harm done, so I thought.
About 6 months later I was awakened in the middle of the night, out of a dead sleep, with a tightening in my stomach. It was an unusual pain that I had never felt before. I tried to ignore it, but it kept getting tighter and tighter, worse and worse. Finally after 4 hours it started to go away and I went back to sleep. The next morning I awoke with no problems and went on with my day. Besides telling mom and dad about it, I didn’t think of it again.
Then, a month later, I was awakened again out of my sleep with the same familiar pain. This time though, it seemed to be a bit worse. I wasn’t sure what to do so I took some Tylenol to help relieve the pain. Unfortunately, this didn’t have much of an effect on me and the pain stayed for another six hours. Then, finally, it dulled down and I went back to sleep. This same pattern happened over and over throughout the year. About once a month, sometimes twice a month, I would be awakened with this gut wrenching pain. However, as time went on, the pain started to get much more intense. The best way to describe the pain is this…Do as many sit-ups as you possibly can. Then, notice the cramping pain in your stomach that is there on the very last sit-up you could ever possibly do. Then, multiply that pain by 10 and that is the feeling that would sit in my stomach for hours and hours and hours. The pain was so intense I started waking my mother and father in the middle of the night to help me get through. We would go into the living room and sit on the couch and mom would rub my back trying to help me relax and relieve the pain. I would be hunched over in as tight a ball as possible. This was the position that would hide the pain a little and give me just a hint of relief. But, the pain was definitely still there. About a year into these attacks, they started to get more frequent, but all of them at night. We assumed it was from something I ate during the day, but the attacks were so random we couldn’t put a finger on the cause. For each attack, at least two a month now, I would wake up mom, out to the living room, rub the back for 3,4,5,6 hours and then back to bed. Of course, the episodes would start happening around 2 am or 4 am, right in the middle of the night. Unfortunately both of us wouldn’t get any sleep on these nights. This continued so we decided it was time to take action.
The Doctors & Diagnostics
First, we went to our family physician. After a few tests he said there was nothing wrong with me and it must just be a “stomach ache” from eating too much. I was disappointed because I knew it wasn’t just a stomach ache. It was much, much more than that. We had tested for ulcers, impaction of bowels, gallbladder problems, hernia and parasites. We kept food diaries. You name it, we did it. However, we went home disappointed and hoped the attacks would stop. Of course, they didn’t. Next, we went to one of the best gastroenterologist in
Houston, TX. We did all the recommended tests with him. Of course all of the tests came back negative, again.
We kept looking for answers around every corner. A friend had some success with acupuncture, so we decided to give that a try starting in 1992. We found, once again, one of the best acupuncturists in
Houston and started to see him on a regular basis. At this time I was 15 years old.
I went to the acupuncturist once a week and he would do his needle thing and relaxation thing, then give me a ton of “herbs” that looked like horse pills and send me on my way until the next week. I was instructed to take 14 "horse pills" every morning. Each visit cost a lot of money and we prayed that it was working. Unfortunately, the amount of money spent didn’t equal the pace of the cure. My attacks kept coming. However, I didn’t want to give up on acupuncture so we kept going. Unfortunately nothing changed. After about 1 ½ years we finally gave up on this idea. Since all of the tests kept coming back negative, we really started to focus on my diet. I started keeping a log book of everything that went into my mouth. After a few months I noticed that the attacks were more frequent when I ate pizza and dairy products. "Ah-ha, we're on to something!" we thought. Naturally, we came to the conclusion that I must be lactose intolerant. In 1993 at age 16, I adjusted my diet to stay away from cheese, milk and other dairy products. I also started drinking soy milk 100% of the time and started taking lactose intolerant pills on a daily basis. This was awful for a 16 year old who loved eating pizza at night and cereal in the morning. I was willing to do it though if it meant the attacks would stop. But, the attacks kept coming, and I kept taking the lactose pills hoping that they were doing some bit of good. Milk or no milk, pizza or no pizza, lactose pills or not, I kept getting the stomach pains. I decided to start another eating log book. This time I thought I noticed the attacks were more frequent when I ate meat or chicken. So, the next logical step was to become a vegetarian. Altering my diet my senior year in high school was tough, but worth it if I would be cured of the re-accuring stomach pains. Finally, the attacks seemed to become a little less frequent and when they did happen, they didn't seem as intense. I thought we had it this time! My body didn’t like chicken or meat. Yes, I still ate fish and that didn’t bother me. I ended up being a vegetarian for seven years. FOR 7 YEARS!!! Not by choice, but by force due to my body’s reaction to meat and chicken. This was a Texan, in high school, college and after, not being able to eat meat. At first the attacks lessened, but then they slowly started coming back more frequent, more frequent, more frequent and more intense. I wasn’t very happy. Once again, I thought we had the cause of the attacks nailed, but they kept coming. I was a very intense teenager and put a lot of pressure on myself to perform to the best of my abilities in school and in sports. The idea crept into our mind that my stomach was just being stressed out from the pressure I put myself under. So, my dad found a breathing and relaxation doctor that we started going to when I was home from college. Each visit home, we would go see this guy. He was very interesting and taught me to “breathe correctly.” I bet you didn’t know there is a wrong way and a right way to breathe, did you? Neither did I. But, I was a quick learner and gained control of my breathing. Unfortunately, this didn’t help my stomach problems and the attacks kept coming. Breathing correctly and learning to relax, apparently, wasn’t the cause of my problem either. In 1997, back in college, another doctor suggested that when I had my next attack that I should go to the hospital and get x-rays. This wasn’t very exciting news since all I ever wanted to do when “under attack” was ball up on the bed and not speak to anybody. Getting up, dressed, into the car, driving over to the hospital, checking in, waiting my turn, all while having intense pain that I knew no doctors could cure but still giving them this chance was the last thing, and the last place, I wanted to go during an attack. But, hey, if it meant finding out the problem, then I would give it a try. During the next attack, up I went to the hospital. The doctor did his x-rays on me and asked questions-questions I’ve answered hundreds of times before. I didn’t have much faith in him or the x-rays. The x-rays came back negative, but the local doctor sent them down to Houston to the gastroenterologist. In Houston, he looked at them as well, but came back with the same conclusion-everything looks perfectly fine. It might not sound like a big deal to go to the hospital when under attack, but at the time it was like climbing Mt. Everest, extremely tough to do. Since all of the tests were coming back negative, we really didn’t know what to do. The Houston doctor decided to prescribe me high doses of pain killers. I was instructed to take only one or two if the pain became unbearable. Well, if the attacks started to happen, then more than likely it would become unbearable. Sometimes, the pain killers would help and the pain would go away, but many times the attacks just ignored the pain killers and would continue down their own path until it decided to go away on its own. The pain killers were not a good thing. One, I hated to be on prescription medicine and two, it only tried to stop the symptoms, and didn’t cure the underlying problem. Meanwhile, I still kept a very strict diet eating no meat or chicken throughout college. Finally, in 2000, 2 years after graduating from college I decided to eat a little chicken. The attacks were still present no matter what I ate so I decided to eat what I wanted. Then a little more chicken and I really didn’t start getting any more additional attacks than usual. So, I ate a little meat, then a little more meat and I didn’t start getting any more attacks than usual. However, I was still getting them about once a week, if not more often. Keep in mind, every attack would interrupt my day or night. If at work, I would have to go home. If sleeping, I would be awakened. If out playing sports or wherever, I would have to stop and go home. This was extremely frustrating and very annoying since it had been 11 years now and everyone I had seen said there wasn’t anything wrong. I decided to step up my testing and try everything western medicine had to offer. We figured out what I had done in the past, which was 90% of the tests, and we did the remaining 10% that was left. I did multiple gastroenterologist tests, but of course, everything came back negative.
When All Else Fails...Try Surgery
My local physician in Vail didn’t really know what to do. After extensive research he said there was a small possibility that the attacks might be caused from scar tissue in my intestines from my appendix surgery in 1988. I discussed this with mom and dad. Since we had tried everything else, we decided to let the doctor operate on me. This was the very last thing we wanted to do but we really didn’t seem to have a choice at this point. Through three small incisions in my abdomen he went in and cleaned out my intestines of any left over scar tissue. The doctor was encouraging and reported that he had been successful in removin all the remaining scar tissue. I had it in my mind that this was going to work. I stayed in the hospital overnight but was able to leave the next morning. For the next few days I had no pain and ate whatever I wanted. Seven days after my surgery I felt it. I had a small attack. I didn’t believe it and wouldn’t recognize the fact. A few days later another one hit with a little more intensity. I said to myself that I was fine and that these were just some minor repercussions from the surgery. About three weeks after the surgery I had a very intense attack and finally admitted to myself that the surgery did absolutely nothing for me. It was a waste of my time, the doctor’s time and my money. Once again, very disappointed and once again, back to the drawing board.
Chaos and The Chiropractor
I have a cousin who is a chiropractor and practices different forms of alternative medicine. She heard about my persistent attacks and wanted to help. After hearing my story from me personally she said very confidently that she could help. I said that’s great, but I’ve heard that line before. She had me start with taking a few stool samples. Well, let me tell ya, that’s not a whole lot of fun. I wouldn’t be going out of my way to take those tests again. I took the samples then mailed them off to a very special lab. When the results came back, my cousin said I had double the number of parasites in my intestines as normal people. She said the attacks were from the parasites basically biting the insides of me. I had the extra parasites in my stomach because the little hairs on the inside wall of the intestine called Celia were curled over. This was holding the parasites in and I wasn’t able to flush them out like normal. I was then instructed that I needed to repair my intestines so that the parasites could escape. To do this I had to go on a rice diet. When I say a rice diet that is exactly what it was. White rice with water, chicken broth or beef broth and that was it-for breakfast, lunch and dinner, for two weeks. Plus, I could only drink water-cold water, hot water, lukewarm water, whatever, just water, for 14 DAYS!!! Well, I lasted ten days on the diet then I had to have something with substance. I also lost about ten pounds during that time as well. However, during these ten days, I kept getting attacks-three to be exact. Although, I was now supposed to be internally cleansed of my extra parasites that were biting me, I was still getting the attacks. My cousin was still convinced she could help me out. She said the parasites were only the beginning of the situation. She took some more tests and came to the conclusion that I was gluten intolerant. Now, I wasn’t officially diagnosed as a celiac but Kym said that I was gluten-intolerant, which is a main diagnosis of celiac. However, this was not the first time I had heard this. About 2 years before, a “western” doctor mentioned that one of my blood tests was positive for this illness. At first I didn’t know what gluten was or where it could be found. But, I got educated on the subject and here is a quick summary of it. Gluten is in almost every food. It is a cell structure that is based in wheat, oats, barley and rye. Kym said I had to stay 100% away from any food with gluten in it. She explained that I had a reaction to gluten and this was causing my pain. I had to stay away from beer, bread, pasta, soup etc…This is being said to a guy who lived on bread and now I can’t eat it. Needless to say, my diet and eating habits were severely adjusted. 90% of food sold at normal grocery stores contained gluten. Luckily, or unluckily, there was a gluten free grocery store online. I also found some gluten free products at a near by health food and vitamin store. I’m sure the manufacturer’s of gluten free food tried their best to make it taste like real food, but they failed. There were a few decent products, but for the most part the food wasn’t much to speak of. I did this for a year and a half but, you guessed it, I kept getting attacks. I was trying to convince myself though that the attacks weren’t as bad-but who was I kidding. They were just as bad, if not worse than before. However, we didn’t know it at the time, but Kym was the closest to a proper diagnosis than anyone had been to that point. She just didn’t get all of the diagnosis correct and she didn’t know how to treat and cure it. At this point I didn’t know what to do. I was literally out of all the options that I knew where available to me.
The Saviour...Dr. Wignall
The office manager at the restaurant I was bartending at, heard of my situation. She suggested I go see a chiropractor by the name of Dr. Wignall, whose office just happened to be about two minutes away from my house. My first thought was “Oh…not another chiropractor.” But Cathy said that Dr. Wignall was different. He practiced a relatively new healing process. She told me of the success that she had with it along with her two sons and many of her friends. Of course, I said, what the hell, I’ll try anything at this point. I made an appointment with Dr. Wignall-after all, it was only going to cost me $40 a visit since insurance helped out. Well, Dr. Wignall was doing something right. He had an eight week waiting period for new patients. I decided to wait the eight weeks and thought that I’ve got to see what this guy is all about. More on him later…
The Worst Attacks
Before I talk about Dr. Wignall, I’ve got to take time to explain how bad the attacks had become. The following are the worst attacks that I experienced.
July 4, 1997.
I was working overseas in England with a crew of 7 guys putting on baseball festivals in different towns. After finishing work one evening in London my crew and I were ready to celebrate the 4th, American style. When I was getting ready for the night I started getting a cramp in my stomach. I told the guys to go ahead and I would meet up with them later. They were familiar with my attacks since I had already had a few on this trip that had put me out of work. This was at 8pm. At 9pm the pain was worse and at 10pm it was the most excruciating, awful pain I had ever felt in my stomach. I went in the shower until the hot water was all gone. (This was a little trick I would do that would sometimes help relax and relieve the pain.) This time however, it didn’t help one bit. The pain was incredibly awful so I took 8 Aleve (I hadn’t yet had a prescription for the pain killers) and hoped that would stop the pain. The attack just kept getting worse and worse when I couldn’t even imagine it getting any worse at all. I was folded over as tight as I could but the pain was still unbearable. I was alone, in a hotel room in London, England, curled over in the worst possible pain and I knew no doctor could help. Needless to say, some interesting thoughts crept into my mind. I had to call my family. I seriously thought it was my last night on earth. Honestly, I hoped it would be or I hoped the pain would go away forever. At that point I didn’t care which one. I was extremely frustrated with the attacks and with seeing doctors and all of the negative results coming back. I started making phone calls and didn’t stop until I had talked to my mom and dad twice each, my brother, my sister, my grandma and close friends. Six hours later when the other line didn't pick up I threw the phone across the room and just shook in a corner, tears dripping from my eyes, not knowing what to do. (The next morning I asked what my phone bill was and it ended up being 553 pounds. About $800 American dollars.) By this time the hot water was available again so I went back into the shower. Unfortunately this didn’t help. Six AM rolled around and I was still folded in half trying to relieve this pain. Finally, the sun started to come up and my crew was starting to wake for the days work and I was still awake in pain. Finally, at about 8 am, the pain started to go away. By 9am, 13 hours later, the pain was gone, and I was wooped, dead tired, exhausted and relieved. I called my parents again to let them know I was alright and to thank them for talking to me in the middle of the night. The next worse episode was back in America in Vail, Colorado, August, 2000. I had been living in Vail for two years at this time. Two of my friends and I decided to go down to Denver to catch an afternoon baseball game. We stopped in a restaurant before the game and ate some appetizers then proceeded into the stadium. Everything was fine until after the game. We went across the street to grab a bite to eat before the two hour drive back home. At this time, 11 pm, I started getting a hint of an attack coming on. I tried to stop it right away with four pain killers. (Sometimes, if I caught the pain when it starts then it wouldn’t proceed to an all out attack.) But, that didn’t help all of the time and especially not this time. I decided to convince my two friends that we had to get back to Vail, where I could jump in a hot shower in my own house…in a comfortable place. Unfortunately, that never happened. Before we even got in the car, the intensity had risen greatly, and quickly. I knew right away that this attack was going to last a while. On the way home the intensity kept rising, at an incredible pace. I was in the back seat, crouched over trying to null the pain. I took four more pain killers, eight all together now. It hurt to even breathe. I told George, the driver, that he needed to get back to Vail as fast as he could. If he got pulled over, then I would pay for the ticket and said I would convince the cop to give us an escort to Vail. George agreed and stepped up his speed to 120mph. Thank goodness he knew the mountain road we were on. I had full confidence in him and at that time wasn’t worried about a wreck. If we wrecked, I thought that might relieve me of my stomach pain. One way or another, I had to get help. After our normal two hour ride home turned into an hour I had George take me straight to the emergency hospital. I hated going but it was my last resort. I had to do something to null the pain and I hoped they would just give me some intra-venous pain killers that would work better than the ones I had. However, they had to “follow procedure” and ask me all my symptoms etc…At this time I couldn’t even speak, I could barely breathe, I couldn’t walk without the pain increasing, etc… I was in so much pain I wrote down my mom’s phone number and told the doctors to call her and she would explain everything. They put me in the hospital room, hooked me up to an IV to hydrate, and told me to wait there while they tried to diagnose me. However, I knew that was impossible since I was a “perfectly healthy guy” with no health problems what-so-ever. The doctor called my mom and she explained what was happening. I thought then, that the doctors would come help me out. It was a quiet night in the hospital and I didn’t see anyone else needing treatment. Well, they were obviously in no rush to help me out and just let me lie in bed for over 30 minutes, in this wrenching pain. I finally got their attention and they said they were working on me and it would just be a little while longer. The funny thing is that being at the emergency room you figured that would be the best place to get some help. It wasn’t. It was the last place I should have been which is why I was very interested in leaving. After literally being ignored for over an hour, when I was in obvious pain, I decided to do something about it. I was in the room by myself so I took the IV out of my arm, got dressed and walked out. The receptionist and doctor tried to stop me but I was in no mood to talk to them or anyone else. I told them that it was obvious they had no intention of helping me anytime soon and I needed to go. They tried to have me fill out “release” paperwork but, once again, I was in no condition to do anything. I told them to call my mom back and she could fill out the paperwork and fax it back to them. Luckily for me, George lived right down the street from the hospital so I walked, hunched over, to his house. It was 2:30 in the morning and George had gone to sleep. He kept his front door unlocked though so I let myself in and went straight for the shower to try to get some relief. I was in the shower for 45 minutes with no relief at all. I took four more pain killers. I didn’t know what else to do. I called my mom to try to get my mind off of the pain. All I could think about was if the pain was this bad, then what in the world is it doing to my insides. What is happening in there that isn’t going to be fixed or cured? What is the cause of all of this? There had to be some explanation. After speaking with mom for a few minutes I got back in the shower. Still no help. Around 4 am the pain was still getting worse. I decided to go back to the hospital.
Needless to say, the first time I was there I wasn’t their favorite patient so they weren’t very happy to see me again. But, to my surprise we went through the same procedure and again, I let myself out of the hospital. Thanks, but no thanks.
I thought, for some reason, the second time to the emergency room might be different than the first. I walked back to George’s house again. It was now 5am and the pain was still there. I got back into the shower and took another pain killer. Maybe it would help this time. Of course it didn't. Out of the shower and onto the couch and curled up in a little ball-I prayed. I prayed for the pain to be gone, forever. Four hours later at 9 am, the pain started to go away. Two hospital visits, a 120 mph car ride through the rocky mountains, 13 pain pills, IV’s, four trips to the shower and many phone calls later, my 10 hour attack finally went away and I went to sleep.
The Flu and Other Symptoms
Earlier I mentioned that the pain was incredibly bad and I wondered what it was doing to the insides of my body. With pain so intense, I thought that there was definitely something happening to me that I couldn’t see. Basically, one side effect of all the pain was my immune system became very weak. I would bulk up on vitamins, eat a healthy diet, get plenty of exercise but still I would become very sick, many times throughout the year. As each year went on my sicknesses would get worse and more frequent, along with the attacks. The worst winter I had the flu five times. Basically one week out of each of the winter months, December through March. Thank goodness we persisted and were finally able to find a cure to my attacks. If not, I believe the side effects of them continuing would have depleted my body severely. I was also constipated on a regular basis. Until Kym, my cousin, started testing me I never really paid any attention to my bowel movements or stool samples. It turned out that I wasn’t very regular and my stool samples were anything but normal. Kym was very worried about this since this is a good sign that something on the inside isn’t operating properly. Now that my pains have ceased, I am hardly ever sick.
After 13 years of suffering through these attacks we have come to the following conclusion. It is well known that when somebody goes through a traumatic experience that sometimes their body will change in one way or another. The experience could be a car wreck, a bad accident, an operation (as in my case) or any number of other ab-normal happenings in life. Once experienced, the body starts to interpret objects that it comes across in a different manner. These objects could be food (once again, as in my case), the environment, animals, etc…With me, my body started to interpret different foods as poison and started reacting negatively and imbalancing my body. At first it was just a few types of foods, but as I grew older I started reacting to more and more foods. This explains why, at the beginning, I was only having one or two attacks a month and at the end I was having one or two attacks a week. I was basically scared to eat because I knew there was a good chance that I would be in pain shortly thereafter. Thank God I got introduced to Dr. Wignall and his practice. Dr. Wignall combines NAET with a BioMeridian Machine to help re-balance his patient's bodies. As I understand it, he uses the BioMeridian Machine first to detect what the under lying causes are of the symptoms. Then he uses NAET to help bring the clients energetic disturbances back into balance. (More information about BioMeridian techniques can be found at www.biomeridian.com.) Within 10-12 visits he had me back to “normal” and my body enjoyed food and nutrients, accepting it the way it should with no negative reactions. Relief finally came. To understand the details and intricacies of NAET please buy the books referred below. They will give you a full overview and understanding of the practice and how it helps.
The following is my story how
NAET cured my food allergies and
forever changed my life.