I have nothing left to give. All there is left is to make it out of bed in the morning, love those close to me, and find a cure for this disease that is slowly killing me. Besides that, nothing matters anymore, David. I apologize if this is just a big ramble, but I am just writing as it comes to me.—Yo
Here, I share only a fraction of the letter with you just so you get a sense of my state of mind. The rest is personal and private. Obviously, there is much more to the story, especially the difficulties in managing a blended family. But even with this letter, David and I don’t get to the bottom of what happened. Instead, I learn to shelve my problems in the hope that I can resolve them one by one when the time is right and my energy returns. I’m starting to lose my voice, I feel introverted, and I lack the ability to rock my world in order to make a point or stand my ground, which is far from the righteous and outspoken woman I used to be. But I need all my energy focused and directed on my own little world, the cocoon that is keeping me safe for now.
Chapter Six
I DIDN’T REALLY KNOW HOW STRONG I WAS UNTIL BEING STRONG WAS THE ONLY CHOICE I HAD LEFT.
Although I have more profound male friendships, I’m blessed with a small core group of women whom I trust and value very much. I usually don’t discuss my marriage with anyone, but I talk to Paige and do confide in my girlfriend Kelly at this time because she loves my husband and is supportive of our union, and I like that. As a good Christian girl born and raised in Chicago, she values marriage in an old-fashioned way. This particular day she drives down from Beverly Hills to visit me. We drink tea and lie on the couch in the living room, talking for hours. I share what happened the past couple weeks, and she suggests that David and I see her therapist. It feels good just to vent about all the things that have been bottled up inside me to someone who is nonjudgmental and an honest, loyal, kind, and authentic spirit. I’m grateful for our rare friendship during a time of my life when I feel very isolated. It’s strange to feel this disconnected and unable to pull out of it, but I need to choose the road of least resistance. I crave peace in order to deal with all the changes in my life.
Once David’s friends and colleagues notice that I’m not attending parties and big events anymore, they know something is really wrong. Many people kindly start contacting David, suggesting various treatments, doctors, and approaches. This is how we find out about the Paracelsus Clinic in Appenzell, Switzerland. Craig McCaw, a friend of ours from Santa Barbara, knows several chronic Lyme sufferers who were treated there with great success.
Paracelsus, one of the largest alternative medicine clinics in Europe, has a mostly holistic approach to various chronic and degenerative conditions, which they’ve been treating for more than fifty years. Their goal is to understand you as an individual, not label you with a disease, and then to focus on the cause of your illness and not just your symptoms. Their medical director is Dr. Thomas Rau, who started his career specializing in rheumatology and internal medicine but switched to a more alternative approach when he realized that his patients weren’t getting better with traditional medicine. This resonates with me so much. I’m excited and hopeful. David is supportive of this and makes plans for us both to go to the clinic right after filming ends for the Housewives in a few months. The plan is for David to spend the first week with me then my brother, Leo, will come from Holland to keep me company for two additional weeks as I continue my treatment.
We order Dr. Rau’s book and decide to go on his anti-inflammatory food plan, which is primarily fruits and vegetables, rice-based foods, onions, and no fish or meat. If you really want to eat meat, it has to be organic and grass fed. The food plan is an important part of the clinic’s program, and I stick to it rigidly for three months. After all, I’m not going to leave my children for three weeks and travel all the way to Switzerland to have Dr. Rau tell me to go on a special diet or that my treatment isn’t working because I have a lot of inflammation in my body. No! I want to arrive in Switzerland 100 percent committed to this diet and say, “I’ve done my part. Now, what can you do for me?” I don’t want them to use inflammation or my diet as an excuse for why they can’t fix me.
On September 22, David and I fly to Zurich. On the plane, I write in the diary that I’ve kept sporadically throughout my journey.
My Diary
September 22, 2013
Memory loss, hard time focusing, not absorbing info, no word retrieval, loss of strength in my hands, pressure in my brain, no energy to exercise, no period, loss of muscle mass, cramps in my hands and feet, hair loss, difficulty participating in life. One good day every ten days.
The night we arrive, we go to the hotel and straight to sleep because our first morning at the clinic starts early. We meet with Dr. Rau, who interviews and examines me extensively. A nurse does metabolic, genetic, and blood tests.
“I’ve been following your diet religiously for three months,” I tell him.
“I can tell. In fact, I’m amazed by your results. You’re my star patient,” he says. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to hang up your labs to show other patients what they can accomplish.”
“Of course,” I say.
Dr. Rau does many of the same blood tests I already had in the United States to look at things like my cholesterol, thyroid, liver enzymes, heavy metals, trace elements, old viruses, toxins, and other imbalances. However, he looks at them from a different perspective. One of Dr. Rau’s tools, which is not used regularly in the United States, is darkfield microscopy. This looks at my live blood under very high magnification to see individual cells, infections, and internal stressors. The clinic also uses thermography and hair mineral analysis to check for heavy metals, which they say is more accurate than blood tests for these things.
Dr. Rau is the first person to actually explain my fluctuating eyesight, which goes from okay at times to just seeing shadows. Losing your eyesight is a big deal, and normally it would be the first thing you’d tell your doctor, but I’m battling so many other symptoms that I forget to tell Dr. Rau about it. But I don’t need to. When he examines me with a special light, he actually sees that the Lyme has attacked my optic nerve. I told you so! I’ve seen various top ophthalmologists in L.A. and insisted something was wrong with my sight, but no one believed me. They said my eyes were fine and that I only need a mild prescription for reading. I also share with Dr. Rau that on and off over the years, I have taken Xanax to help me sleep and calm my nervous system, which seems to speed up at night. Dr. Rau is not happy about this and switches me to melatonin. We also discuss the dangers of Botox.
“With your brain issues, it should be obvious that you never inject anything in there ever again,” he says with a strict Swiss accent. I nod politely as I have a total aha moment. Of course I shouldn’t do that! What am I thinking? What is the world thinking? Who purposely injects TOXINS in her brain for vanity? In the moment, my body starts sweating. I feel embarrassed, reckless, and like the dumbest person on Planet Earth. Why did I do these things to myself without really thinking about them intelligently? I’m ashamed of my lack of judgment and appreciation for all the beauty God gave me naturally. Why didn’t I honor that?
My mind is going a thousand miles per hour. The Botox discussion hits home, and it’s not until David nods at me that I come back to the conversation they’re having about the laxatives I use for my chronic constipation. Dr. Rau thinks I should stop these immediately as well. He also suggests that I switch my synthetic thyroid medication to a glandular formula.
Paracelsus also has a holistic dental department because Swiss biological medicine considers this a crucial part of a well-rounded approach to health care. All patients go to the dental department when they arrive. I walk into my mandatory appointment feeling a little bit annoyed because I’ve already spent a lot of time and money on my teeth. I’m ahead of the game on this one. As a child, I took painstaking care of my teeth. Yet, no matter what I did, I had cavities in every single tooth. My brother barely brushed and has perfect teet
h. Go figure! When I arrived in America as a young model, I had a mouth full of dark mercury fillings. Ten years ago, I finally had the courage to get my whole mouth fixed. I had the fillings and my wisdom teeth removed, plus a few root canals. So when the clinic tells me I need dental work, I brush it off with a laugh. What could still be in my mouth that’s affecting me?
“Right now, I’m just focusing on my Lyme,” I tell the dentist.
“Well, your teeth are connected to your Lyme,” he says. “You have metal-based crowns, cavitations, and root canals.” I’ve never heard the word “cavitations” before, and whatever they are, I’m not dealing with them now. I need to focus on one thing at a time. All the treatments I’ve done and special clinics I’ve visited have been very expensive. Having work done on seemingly healthy teeth seems extravagant, and I’m cautious not to do too much. Once again, I can’t help feeling frustrated with the fact that I’ve paid for health insurance my whole life, yet it doesn’t do me any good when I really need it. Of course, I know I am privileged and I’m not complaining. But it’s the principle that matters to me.
Don’t we all deserve answers for this? Should wealthy people get better medical treatment than others? The answer is no, of course not, and that question haunts me every day of this miserable life I am living. Chronic Lyme isn’t cured with high doses of antibiotics. I think I have proved that point by now. This whole thing is a mystery. Being in an international clinic, I meet Lyme patients from all over the world, further proving that this is a global problem. Anyway, as much as this frustrates me, I have to save myself before I can save the world, so with that in mind I focus on my own little life one day at a time.
I show up at the clinic every day of my three-week stay here around eight in the morning, and they tell me my treatment schedule for the day. Most of the treatments focus on detoxification, restoring my digestive system by healing my intestines and GI tract, and strengthening my immune system with a diet to restore my body’s ideal pH balance. These treatments include IV cocktails with homeopathics and infusions of a special saline solution with high doses of vitamins B and C and folic acid. It’s the first time I’m introduced to ozone therapy directly into the vein, which boosts oxygen in cells and tissues to speed up the healing process. This powerful treatment has been around for hundreds of years, yet it’s not approved by the FDA. Paracelsus also does a form of acupuncture called neural therapy, where acupuncture points are injected with specific homeopathic remedies and procaine. The idea is that because these points, which are determined using Chinese meridians, are very specific, the remedies are more effective and boost the body’s ability to heal itself and reset the autonomic nervous system.
Another very interesting treatment is hyperthermia. After they place an IV in my arm and a thermometer in my butt, I go into what looks like a closed tanning bed device that raises my body temperature to about 103 degrees. The process takes three to four hours with a nurse by my side monitoring every step of the way. She supports my body with IV fluids and homeopathic remedies as needed. Thankfully, I can communicate with her through a small window right above my head because my body is wrapped in silver foil blankets to keep the heat trapped inside my ailing body. It feels extremely claustrophobic inside this cylinder. The heat makes me feverish and weak as I drift in and out of a strange mental state with intense shaking and sweating one minute and shivering with chills the next. It’s an out-of-body experience. However, I focus on all the positive effects this treatment could have for me. The theory behind this treatment, the most intense one that I have done thus far, is that when the body creates a fever, the heat should kill all the viruses, Lyme bacteria, and co-infections. In today’s society, the minute we have a fever, we rush to take a fever reducer, but I’m learning that if we just allow the immune system to fight the fever rather than block it, we may benefit more. Burning the bugs? YES! Let’s kill them and get them out of here. It sounds perfectly realistic. At the end of these treatments, I feel like a truck ran over me and I want to sleep for days.
I eat mainly at the clinic’s restaurant, where all the food is vegetarian, low-sodium, and specific to Dr. Rau’s anti-inflammatory diet. I do my first forty-eight-hour liver cleanse, which consists of sugarless, organic apple juice, saltwater flushes, and an olive oil–lemon cocktail. This enhances the liver’s ability to get rid of waste like excess cholesterol and certain proteins. I’m fascinated by the amount of bright green and yellow liver stones I expel into the toilet. Of course, I immediately google “liver stones” and “liver cleanses,” and happily realize that this is just a normal part of cleansing. I’ve heard of liver cleanses throughout my life, but I never thought I needed one because I don’t drink much alcohol and always lived a pretty clean life. Today this proves me wrong. Colonics at Paracelsus, as at Sponaugle, are an important part of treatment. I also learn about electromagnetic frequency (EMF), which comes from things like cell phones, computers, and lights, and how it affects the body. Paracelsus has machines that measure the EMF in your system, and I have extremely high levels in my body.
In general, my Herxheimer reactions are intense. I know this is helping me make progress long term, so I try to focus on getting through it one day at a time, and having a positive attitude. The days are long, so by the time David and I get back to our hotel room each night, I just want to crawl under the blankets and hide. I’m exhausted from always being exhausted. We sleep with the windows wide open because I love the smell of the fresh mountain air and the soul-soothing sounds of nature and silence without any traffic noise. It reminds me of a sweet childhood memory—my mom used to crack my bedroom window at night, even when it was twenty degrees below zero.
I meet some amazing patients from all over the world who have inspiring stories and one common goal. Everyone is suffering greatly, yet everyone wants to live. Since we all need simple connections of love and understanding while far away from our homes, we form a supportive community. Paracelsus treats many things besides Lyme, including cancer, autoimmune diseases, chronic fatigue, and Epstein-Barr, just to name a few. This may seem like a wide range, but the doctors here agree that it all comes down to the same thing: a nonfunctioning immune system. To treat the immune system, you have to focus on the gut, which is your entire digestive tract, including every part of your stomach ending in your small and large intestines. This is where 70 percent of your immune-system cells live. Even though I’ve used my gut as an intuition compass my whole life, it’s here that I learn that the gut is literally the brain of my body. If mine is not healthy, I won’t recover from whatever disease I’m fighting. Having an unhealthy gut puts one at risk for an array of health conditions. In contrast, healing the gut strengthens the immune system, something that’s crucial for anyone who suffers from chronic illnesses.
David does some basic treatments in the clinic, and we have a nice and much needed week together. We get along easily, just like the good old days. Our different perspectives on family support during challenging times and very different beliefs about healing and medicine are starting to affect us. Nevertheless, we’re happy to be together in this magical little town, and even though we have separate treatments during the day, we enjoy our short nature walks at night and make the best of the circumstances life has thrown us. My goal when I got to the clinic was to get strong enough to walk back to the hotel rather than drive. On David’s last day here, we accomplish this together. Although at a slow pace, I push with all I have because I thrive on these small accomplishments. The mountains are so beautiful and inspiring, the smell of cut grass makes me feel close to nature, and walking past the cow farms happily reminds me of my childhood. At one point, we stop so David can take a picture of me in the grass. All I want to do is roll in it and feel that strong connection to the earth.
David and I have only one weekend together, and he insists we visit our friends the Manoukians, who have a beautiful home in Gstaad. Although I’m sick, shaking and sweating with fever after a four-hour hyper-thermia tre
atment, David is determined to see them. I just want to take a hot bath and crawl into my comfy hotel bed, but instead I’m lying in the passenger seat of our little rental car, quietly crying from utter exhaustion as we drive for almost six hours through the mountains. I’m just trying to be a good wife. But what’s he thinking? It’s like pushing a child who has a 103-degree fever to get out of bed and take a road trip. My lack of brain function makes me more and more passive. I just can’t deal with any debate or disagreement, so instead of standing my ground, I’ve started to let things slide. I also never want to be a difficult sick person or bother anyone, so trying to go along with my husband seems the right thing to do. I feel sorry for him since I can see him struggle because he does not have me the way he used to.
We arrive in Gstaad right after dawn. Our friend’s home is beautiful, although I see very little of it because I go straight to one of the guest rooms and crash, exhausted and sick as a dog from the long and winding roads in the Swiss Alps. My girlfriend Tamar is a kind friend and makes sure I have all I need, but I literally don’t get out of bed for twenty-four hours. Only out of pure respect for our gracious hosts do I summon the energy to have a bite to eat with them, but I spend the rest of the weekend in bed. We drive back to Paracelsus Sunday night.
David leaves the next morning, and Leo arrives. I’m excited to see him—he is a great source of strength and comfort for me. Although he hasn’t been able to come to America to see me since I fell ill, I always feel his unconditional love, and there is nothing better than having my brother beside me at this time. Whenever I am with him, no matter how much time has passed since we saw each other last, I realize that no one makes me laugh more than Leo, no matter what the circumstance. Laughing is something I don’t do enough of these days. Leo pushes me to walk from the clinic to the hotel every day. We do so hand in hand, just as we did when we were young. Sometimes, we reminisce about our childhood; other times, we just listen to the sounds of the birds and the silence of nature, which remind us of times we spent in the woods as children.
Believe Me Page 12