A few hours later, Daisy drops me off for my eight o’clock appointment in Santa Monica at the Gentle Wellness Center with France Robert, my colon hydrotherapist. France is another one of my guardian angels, whom I also call my “colon whisperer,” a title she deserves after thirty years of experience in this unusual field. I lie down on the table and gently insert the tube. Just another day at the office. Then she turns on the colonic machine.
“Look! Look!” she screams seconds later. I quickly turn around to find France pointing at the glass irrigation tube connected to the colonic machine. Inside, we see a huge creature, about sixteen inches long and so wide that it fills the entire circumference of the tube moving through in perfect slow motion. It has octopus-like suctions all around it and what looks like a big head on each end. France is in such shock that she doesn’t even think to stop the machine so we can study it and take pictures. Instead, it gets sucked away, and we stare at each other in astonishment. I can’t believe the big, fat monster that just came out of my ass!
“In thirty-three years, I’ve seen a lot but I’ve never seen anything that big,” France says. Well finally, there is a payoff after being tortured by some of the strong medications I’ve been taking. My own sense of having a demon monster inside of me wasn’t that far off. I’m fascinated but disgusted. Where did this come from? How long has it lived inside of me? Are there more? Is this the cause of my disease? Is this the end I’ve been waiting for? I immediately text Daisy, who’s at the Chinese tea shop next door getting me a ginger tea.
“Oh my God. A monster came out!”
“That’s fantastic,” she writes.
“Fantastic? Are you crazy?”
“Yes. This is progress!” Who knew progress would be a sixteen-inch monster coming out of my ass?
“Did you take a picture?”
“No. It went too fast!”
“Because you did a coffee enema earlier this morning, there was no stool in the lower colon so the parasite came out in this perfectly clear water and was easy to see,” France says. Daisy picks me up, and we spend the rest of the day researching parasites and looking for pictures online. I mentally scan my whole life. Where did I pick up that ugly monster? I’ve taken pristine care of my body since I was a teenager. When I get home, I immediately tell Blanca about the creature. I’m so disgusted, but also strangely excited, hoping this is the culprit of my three-year nightmare.
“Growing up in Mexico, my mother gave us antiparasite medication four times a year,” Blanca says. “It was preventive.” I’m shocked; I’ve never heard of taking antiparasite medications preventively. I’m desperate to understand what just happened, stressed, and scared, especially after browsing the Internet and seeing images from the parasite world. It’s truly mind boggling. After all the parasite testing I’ve done in the last three years, how did everything come back negative? How did they miss this?
Of course every time I go to the bathroom after this day, I’m obsessed with what is coming out of me. I start doing colonics three days a week with special herbal enemas for parasites. I set up a parasite lab in the guest bathroom with disposable gloves, a tray, cups, and sticks, and I literally start dissecting my own poop. I must have been a scientist in a past life because I feel the deep urge to understand this. I want to collect these parasites, take pictures, and send them to different labs for testing. I’ve kept a chronological photo diary from this entire journey as I worry that my failing brain will not be able to remember my discoveries, and I am not going to leave this chapter out no matter how much shame I feel around it. I photograph some of these disgusting things next to a plastic fork to show their actual size. A particularly fascinating one is skinny like a shoestring and about twenty-two inches long. It’s like finding aliens in my own body! The only word I can find here is FASCINATING!!
I use the Internet to identify them, although there’s very limited information on this subject. I don’t know why I used to associate parasites with being dirty. It’s hard to believe I have them because I’ve always been neurotic about being clean and have a lifelong ritual of showering twice a day. Nevertheless, once I educate myself, I learn that parasites have nothing to do with personal hygiene. Every person supposedly has microbes in his or her gut but in a healthy environment, they should live in harmony with your gut bacteria. In my case, however, they seem to be running the show and have taken control of my body. It’s like I’m being eaten alive from the inside out. This seems to be is a big part of the puzzle, but there is no overnight solution and unfortunately I don’t feel much better.
In the midst of dealing with the monsters living inside of my body, Bella calls me crying from New York about the severe pain in her spine and joints. I feel so helpless and reach out to Dr. Joan Fleischman, a friend I made in the world of Lyme sufferers who lives in New York. She and her two children are battling this disease, too, so she’s extremely understanding and compassionate about our situation. The last time I was in New York, I took Bella for an appointment at Dr. Fleischman’s office, so she is kind enough to make a house call to Bella’s apartment. She starts treating Bella with the coil, which is the same principle as the Rife machine and can cause severe die-off reactions. I feel helpless being so far away.
“Please come home so that I can help you,” I tell Bella. I’d feel safer with her here.
“Mommy, I don’t want to give in to being a sick person,” she says, determined to stay in New York and push through her symptoms. “I need to keep trying to be a normal teenager and be with my friends.” In all honesty, I don’t have a magic pill for her, so I accept whatever it takes for her to keep herself going. She is such a tough cookie and she motivates me to keep fighting for a cure.
Just a couple of weeks later, it’s almost time to tape the Housewives reunion show. I’m vomiting and really ill with nausea and tremors from the hard-core parasite protocol I have been on. The day of the taping, February 20, I feel horrible and am coughing with a deep, knife-stabbing pain in my lower abdomen. I have a massage at 7:30 A.M., but it doesn’t help. Dusty is coming to do my hair and makeup but I feel trapped in a body that doesn’t even belong to me. The reunion is part of my contract and commitment to the show; backing out isn’t an option in my mind but getting dressed isn’t either because the fatigue is so severe. When Daisy walks in, I’m wearing a nightgown and curlers.
“I’m going like this,” I tell her. In my pajamas means that I only need to change my clothes once. I am conserving my spoons. The second we arrive at the studio, I’m ambushed by cameras. Who knew they’d want to film my arrival? Not me, because I’m in an old white nightgown. “If you’d warned me, I would have worn cuter pajamas,” I joke with the crew.
Once inside the studio, I slip on an old dress I’d grabbed from my closet and lie down on the couch in the dressing room. Andy comes in to say hello and sees that I’m obviously not myself.
“Just do the best you can,” he says.
Once we start taping, it’s almost impossible to push through. The subjects my castmates are discussing and debating seem insignificant compared to my daily health struggles. Despite my best effort to be there, I don’t feel like I add much to the conversation.
“Yolanda, how are you feeling?” Andy asks.
“I’m trying to weather the storm and just came back from Korea, where I had stem cell treatment that’s not available here yet,” I say. “I fight and pray every day.”
“What do you think about a viewer saying she’s worried that you’re receiving erroneous treatments?” he says.
“There are people in my family who deny my disease. So that hurts. But a stranger doubting what I go through doesn’t mean anything to me, because none of those haters have walked in my shoes, know me personally or have seen my medical files,” I respond. “So who are they to judge?” Although I exist in a safe cocoon at home, I feel so raw and vulnerable, and being here without full access to the “search button” in my brain makes me insecure. Two hours into the typically
twelve-hour taping, I need to stop. The effort and energy it takes to come up with somewhat intelligible answers is like pushing a car without gas. I feel so hopeless.
“I’m really sorry, but I have to go back to bed,” I tell Andy and the other women. When the reunion show airs, I have to write my blog.
Hello Bravo lovers,
First and foremost, thank you so much for all your love and support during my crazy health journey. Please know that it is a great source of strength and that it really means a lot to me. I also appreciate your kindness and compassion in understanding that I have not been able to blog. Getting well is my full-time job these days. It took me a while to learn the true meaning of patience and surrender, but I have finally accepted that healing doesn’t happen on our schedule. It doesn’t have a clock or a calendar.
The diagnosis isn’t simple, either. A late-stage chronic Lyme disease patient probably doesn’t just have Lyme disease. Unfortunately, this situation is like peeling an onion with many layers of problems. I won’t bore you with the details of my diseases collected throughout my life journey until the day I got sick now almost three years ago. One funny story gives you a sense, though, of the long-term journey. At twelve years old, I raised a premature baby cow on our farm, because her mom had died. I bottle-fed it every day, let it suck on my chin, and babied it until it was stable. I just recently found out that little love gave me Q fever, which has been a low-grade infection throughout my entire life.
The path forward isn’t completely clear. As I turn each corner, new obstacles arise, but I am a determined warrior, and even though this has brought me to my knees, I know God often uses our deepest pain as the launching pad of our greatest calling. So even though my life may not be perfect for now, I try to find a blessing in every day. Watching my children grow and establishing themselves into the world is my greatest joy and drive to continue to fight until I find my cure. Unfortunately I had to miss watching Gigi and Bella walk Tom Ford’s fashion show right here in town a couple of weeks ago. I’ve waited my whole life for that exciting moment, but while I couldn’t be there in person, at least today’s technology allowed me to live-stream the show from bed. I’ve cried my eyes out for missing so many precious moments as their careers take off, while I’ve been forced to watch from the sidelines with great pride, inspiration, and hope for a front-row seat one day in the near future.
And, unfortunately, I am far from alone. Lyme disease is a major epidemic of the twenty-first century, and I am sure that in the years to come, as people become more aware and educated about this disease, you will come across someone in your inner circle who is afflicted with this. In some ways, it’s like AIDS in the early 1980s. I am going to make it my mission in the coming years to help find proper diagnostics and a cure affordable for all. There is so little acknowledgment and understanding from the world at large for this and most chronic invisible diseases, for that matter. That’s why I like to say that you don’t really get IT until you get IT.
Throughout this journey, I have finally, after fifty-one years, met the true core of my being. I understand pain and suffering in a dimension I never knew existed. I am finding my own strength at its best, yet in the worst time of my life. I am getting to the most raw and vulnerable part of me and it has changed my perspective towards life and human beings for the rest of my life.
All of this brings me back to the reunion. It was nice to see all the girls, even though, for obvious reasons, I have been extremely disconnected and pretty much living on a different planet for now. My overall take on the season is that we must all try to be kinder than necessary, because those hardest to love need love the most. Some people come into our life as a blessing, while others come into our life as a lesson, so love them for who they are instead of judging them for who they are not.
It’s obvious that some of the women’s behavior is a true reflection of how they feel about themselves, and for that, I have great empathy and compassion. The issues at play here are real-life struggles, so remaining open to things with which we don’t agree allows us to see that there is always a resolution to a situation if we are willing to make the effort. Everyone matters, so I don’t feel the need to compete and keep pointing out other people’s imperfections in order to feel better about myself. Since today’s world has enough critics, I choose to be an encourager where possible (while also telling friends what they need to hear, and not just what they want to hear) and treat everyone as if they were what they should be and hopefully help them become what they are capable of becoming.
I think it’s important for all of us participating in the Housewives journey to remember that just because someone has inflicted hurt upon us, it does not give us the right to do the same.
Anyway, thank you for supporting our show the way that you have. I hope you continue to tune in for the three-part reunion. I am sending you lots of love from my healing cave and hope to see you all next year.
Remember, character isn’t what you have, it’s who you are.—xoxox Yo
February 28, 2015
Didn’t wake up feeling great or too cute, but I WOKE UP …
#CountingMyBlessings #DeterminedToFindACure
#ChronicLymeDisease #MyHealthJourney
I am on a course of Biltricide, which is a medication to treat tapeworms and flukes. It’s very strong and makes me feel incredibly sick, but life still goes on around me and I force myself to participate wherever needed the most.
My Diary
March 5, 2015
Sick as a dog, but got up and took Anwar to get his driving permit. I couldn’t let him down as I knew he needed me there.
March 7, 2015
David leaving again for 18 days again. I’m sad and don’t understand how you justify leaving your sick partner behind. I could never do that to him. No energy to debate it though.
March 8, 2015
Bella has to go to Paris. She has severe fatigue, pain, and is feeling insecure. Wish I could keep her home longer, but work is calling her.
On March 9, Daisy and I fly to Seattle for my initial appointment with Dr. Klinghardt. We have found a rhythm for managing my day-to-day care. She has been an angel sent from heaven who has taken me by the hand and is leading the way. When we walk into Dr. Klinghardt’s cluttered office, I instantly know that he and I are a perfect fit.
“Let’s sit!” he says with his German accent. I feel connected to him the minute we start talking—our Dutch and German backgrounds give me a safe and familiar feeling. Daisy gives him a rundown of my medical background, current protocols, and most recent test results.
“Okay, let’s put you on the table.” Dr. Klinghardt gestures toward the treatment table in the middle of the room. “Yolanda, do you know about muscle testing?”
“Yes, I am just starting to learn about it from Daisy.”
“Oh, good. Indirect testing uses another person’s arm to help us see and ask your body if certain tools or treatments are working and if the body is improving,” he says. “It gives Lyme patients a compass as to what is making you strong or weak, which pathogens might still be in the body—fungal, bacterial, viral, or parasitic—and how toxic the body is.
“You have a mouthful of metal-based crowns, and they’re blocking your healing,” he says.
“This doesn’t surprise me because I heard this at Paracelsus a couple of years ago.”
“All that metal is preventing your immune system from doing its job and causing toxicity, which the bacteria bind to like a magnet,” he says. “This accounts for a lot of your strange symptoms, especially with your brain.” Finally, someone has a reason for my brain issues!
“Your brain is retrievable though,” Dr. Klinghardt says.
“Are you sure??” I say. I don’t want to cry, but I feel a wave of tears coming on.
“So the gut is testing weak,” he adds. “Must be some creatures in there.” Creatures?
“Daisy, can you show Dr. Klinghardt the pictures of my parasites?” I ask. I am expect
ing him to be shocked, but he just nods when he sees them. He doesn’t seem impressed at all. Apparently, this is very common for chronically ill patients.
“We’ll work on the parasites, but they’re only a small piece of the bigger picture,” he says.
“Has she had neural therapy to all scars?” he asks Daisy.
“Yes, thyroid especially,” Daisy says.
“Every scar is an interference field to the body’s functioning at its best. It’s also a place where bacteria and viruses can live, causing the body to hold on to illness,” Dr. Klinghardt explains. “Your tonsils and teeth also cause interference fields or focal infections. We need to address all these issues in order to help you heal.” He injects my tonsils with procaine but tells me this is just a bandage. Eventually they need to come out but there is a pecking order of other layers to clear before that. Tonsillectamy? At my age? Scary thought.
I promise Dr. Klinghardt that I will start his protocol immediately and will be back in six weeks to see if I have made any progress. He tells me it will take me about two years of dedicated work to get back to perfect health. It sounds like a long time but I like the confidence in his voice when he makes this statement although I won’t believe it until I see it.
At this point, many people in the Lyme community know who I am because of the show and they often thank me for talking publicly about our misunderstood disease. As I walk through the waiting room, a beautiful woman looks up and jumps out of her seat when she sees me. She walks right over, giving me the biggest hug.
“Thank you for bringing awareness,” she says.
“Where are you in your journey?” I ask. I’ve learned that being chronically ill is a journey with many chapters so it’s very normal for patients to ask one another where they’re at.
“Thank God, I just finished the parasite chapter,” she says. “It’s been about six months.”
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