"Multiple System Infectious Diseases"
Back in the USA
The answers we found · the miles we traveled · the God who guided every step
A little background. In a final attempt to find answers, at my own request, I had been taken to Mexico. We found what I'd been searching for — but my husband decided to bring me back to the US for surgery first, with plans to return to Mexico for the rest of the treatment. We had insurance, so it made sense to have the hiatal hernia operation here and then go back for the other issues — the ones behind the paralysis and everything that came with it.
But the insurance process was slow. Meeting the primary-care doctor. Waiting to see the specialist. Waiting on approvals. And I was declining too quickly to wait.
One night, before I could even meet the hernia specialist, the paralyzing sensation moved into my throat and tongue. I was frightened in a way I don't have good words for — I truly feared for my life. Through the night I reached again and again for the essential oils I'd come to trust, every fifteen or twenty minutes, doing the one thing I knew to do until morning finally came.
The next morning, my sister came to check on me. I couldn't speak English. I realized I could still speak in Spanish and so I called a sister that spoke Spanish and she translated for my sister who took me to the bank to sign my will, and then to the airport. I was going to Mexico — alone. On the way there, the right side of my face began to give way to the same paralysis; my vision blurred, and my ability to speak or write in English came and went. The plan had to change. I knew, with a certainty I can't explain, that if I stayed I would not survive. So I went only with my ID and the clothes I was wearing.
I was so weak that flight attendants and airport staff wheeled me through and helped me to my seat. Clinic staff met me at baggage claim in Mexico and drove me straight in, where I drifted in and out of consciousness those first days. Once the doctors there had stabilized me with IV therapy, I had the hiatal hernia operation — because no treatment for the paralysis could even begin until the hernia was repaired and my body could absorb nourishment from food again, instead of surviving on IVs alone.
It took seven days before I could speak enough English to call my children without frightening them with my broken speech. Twenty-one days before I could head home — just two days after I was walking confidently on my own again, strong enough to carry my own plate to the kitchen, strong enough to believe I could make the trip. It was hard, and frightening, and at times very painful. But underneath it all I felt peace, and a quiet urgency telling me to get home. Gracias a Dios — thanks to God — and to the prayers of family and friends, I made it home safely.
The specialist, at last
Back in the US, I finally saw the chronic-disease specialist we'd first been referred to. At the lab, the technicians drawing my blood told me he was simply the best — that he would figure out what was wrong, no doubt about it. Twenty-seven vials of blood later, I went home to wait. Several weeks after that, I sat down with him to go over the results.
Honestly, the numbers weren't much of a surprise. They mostly confirmed what the doctor in Mexico had already told me I'd be treated for once I was strong enough. For anyone who's curious about the details, I've tucked the full results away here — open them if you like, or skip right past. For the record — the lab values that came back outside range (after 21 days of therapy in Mexico)
Back in the US, I finally saw the chronic-disease specialist we'd first been referred to. At the lab, the technicians drawing my blood told me he was simply the best — that he would figure out what was wrong, no doubt about it. Twenty-seven vials of blood later, I went home to wait. Several weeks after that, I sat down with him to go over the results.
Honestly, the numbers weren't much of a surprise. They mostly confirmed what the doctor in Mexico had already told me I'd be treated for once I was strong enough. For anyone who's curious about the details, I've tucked the full results away here — open them if you like, or skip right past. For the record — the lab values that came back outside range (after 21 days of therapy in Mexico)
Coagulation
D-Dimer, Quant. 1.15 HIGH (0–0.5 µg/mL)
Immune & white cells
CD8-/CD57+ Lymphs 2.2 (2.0–17.0)
Abs. CD8-CD57+ Lymphs 20 LOW (60–360 /µL)
WBC 3.3 LOW (3.4–10.8 x10E3/µL)
Mold IgG allergens
D-Dimer, Quant. 1.15 HIGH (0–0.5 µg/mL)
Immune & white cells
CD8-/CD57+ Lymphs 2.2 (2.0–17.0)
Abs. CD8-CD57+ Lymphs 20 LOW (60–360 /µL)
WBC 3.3 LOW (3.4–10.8 x10E3/µL)
Mold IgG allergens
Penicillium chrysogenum 15.1 HIGH (0–1.9 mcg/mL)
Cladosporium herbarum 12.5 HIGH (0–1.9 mcg/mL)
Aspergillus fumigatus 20.1 HIGH (0–1.9 mcg/mL)
Chaetomium globosum 3.1 HIGH (0–1.9 mcg/mL)
Infectious markers
Candida Antibodies, IgA 21 HIGH (0–9 U/mL)
Mycoplasma pneumoniae IgG 226 HIGH (0–99, indeterminate)
Cytomegalovirus (CMV) Ab, IgG 1.30 HIGH (0–0.59 U/mL)
Complement C4a 1266.3 HIGH (0–650 ng/mL)
HHV-6 IgG Antibodies 8.62 HIGH (0–0.76)
Shared exactly as they came back to me, for anyone walking a similar road. These are my own results at one moment in time — not a diagnostic guide for anyone else.
Sitting with those results, my doctor walked me through what he was seeing. He talked about blood coagulating too quickly, about biofilm, about how slowly oxygen was moving between my cells. He said oxygen normally passes from one cell to the next in about three-quarters of a second; in my body it was taking three or four. He compared it to emphysema — how a person might breathe fine sitting still, but labor terribly the moment they move. That, he said, was why movement felt so hard for me: my cells were starving for oxygen, especially when I tried to exercise.
He drew out the whole hormone picture, too — how chronically elevated cortisol drives testosterone down, and how that makes it so hard to hold onto muscle. Anabolic states build up; catabolic states break down. We needed to get my body out of that breaking-down state. I didn't say it aloud to him, but I knew exactly what had been keeping my cortisol so high.
Then he described my immune system like a castle under siege — and told me, gently, that I had almost no soldiers left on the wall or even castle walls. The defenders that recognize an enemy from past battles, the outer wall that shields everything inside — in my body, he said, that wall was very nearly gone.
He explained that Lyme disease looked like the lead player — but that it was far from the only one. He asked if I knew a certain actress; when I said yes, he said Lyme was like the famous star who gets all the attention, while a whole cast of others fills out the film. As he pieced it together, each thread was a character in the same story: the tick bite (or the Chagas exposure in Chile), a reaction he tied to a vaccine, the mercury from having amalgam fillings removed by a dentist who wasn't biological, the candida overgrowth, the high mold levels — every one, in his reading, needing to be addressed.
"Your results," he told me, "are a classic case of multi-system infectious disease." He recommended a book: Why Can't I Get Better? Solving the Mystery of Lyme and Chronic Disease, by Dr. Richard Horowitz.
Lyme… or Chagas.
To know for sure, he wanted one more test. I'd take an antibiotic for two weeks (cringe), rest a week, and then have my blood drawn again. Sigh.
That Sunday, I'd been asked to give the opening prayer. I hesitated, then said yes. And in the middle of praying, I had a chilling little moment — I felt my brain trying to slip into Spanish. It only lasted a few seconds, and I carried on in English, but it rattled me; I was tempted to just switch to Spanish to cover the pause. When I sat back down I nearly cried, but my sweet four-year-old kept me too busy to dwell on it. My abdomen was swelling again. When I'd gone looking for ways to bring more oxygen into the body, I'd found a great deal written about low oxygen and its possible links to cancer.
This morning my doctor in Mexico called just to check on me. I told him I'd fax over the US results, and that my abdomen was starting to swell again. His advice, in his dear accented English: "Please — you do NOT take many pills!" Oh, how I love that man and his staff. He has always cared about me as a person, never just a patient.
I'll be heading back to Mexico over the children's spring break, and returning for a full course of treatment once school lets out.
The black hole where all my nutrition used to disappear — the hiatal hernia, the river of bile, the reverse flow — has finally been fixed. Now the work turns to clearing the biofilm, helping oxygen reach my cells, and rebuilding the immune system and white-blood-cell count that years of malabsorption wore down.
So here's to health — to remarkable doctors, to family and friends who carried me, and to a God who truly does guide and direct our lives.
Miracles are happening. A heartfelt thank-you to everyone who helped me get to Mexico. The medical bills have climbed toward $25,000 over these last three months. It has been costly — but I cannot begin to describe the difference I feel now. A night-and-day difference. I find myself grateful for the smallest things. Even being able to do the laundry.
Step by step, we finally have answers. And everything I'd been doing all along — with food, with herbs, with essential oils — had been helping. The doctor in Mexico said it more than once:
"I don't understand why you don't have cancer."
I know why. And I am so grateful.
Cladosporium herbarum 12.5 HIGH (0–1.9 mcg/mL)
Aspergillus fumigatus 20.1 HIGH (0–1.9 mcg/mL)
Chaetomium globosum 3.1 HIGH (0–1.9 mcg/mL)
Infectious markers
Candida Antibodies, IgA 21 HIGH (0–9 U/mL)
Mycoplasma pneumoniae IgG 226 HIGH (0–99, indeterminate)
Cytomegalovirus (CMV) Ab, IgG 1.30 HIGH (0–0.59 U/mL)
Complement C4a 1266.3 HIGH (0–650 ng/mL)
HHV-6 IgG Antibodies 8.62 HIGH (0–0.76)
Shared exactly as they came back to me, for anyone walking a similar road. These are my own results at one moment in time — not a diagnostic guide for anyone else.
Sitting with those results, my doctor walked me through what he was seeing. He talked about blood coagulating too quickly, about biofilm, about how slowly oxygen was moving between my cells. He said oxygen normally passes from one cell to the next in about three-quarters of a second; in my body it was taking three or four. He compared it to emphysema — how a person might breathe fine sitting still, but labor terribly the moment they move. That, he said, was why movement felt so hard for me: my cells were starving for oxygen, especially when I tried to exercise.
He drew out the whole hormone picture, too — how chronically elevated cortisol drives testosterone down, and how that makes it so hard to hold onto muscle. Anabolic states build up; catabolic states break down. We needed to get my body out of that breaking-down state. I didn't say it aloud to him, but I knew exactly what had been keeping my cortisol so high.
Then he described my immune system like a castle under siege — and told me, gently, that I had almost no soldiers left on the wall or even castle walls. The defenders that recognize an enemy from past battles, the outer wall that shields everything inside — in my body, he said, that wall was very nearly gone.
He explained that Lyme disease looked like the lead player — but that it was far from the only one. He asked if I knew a certain actress; when I said yes, he said Lyme was like the famous star who gets all the attention, while a whole cast of others fills out the film. As he pieced it together, each thread was a character in the same story: the tick bite (or the Chagas exposure in Chile), a reaction he tied to a vaccine, the mercury from having amalgam fillings removed by a dentist who wasn't biological, the candida overgrowth, the high mold levels — every one, in his reading, needing to be addressed.
"Your results," he told me, "are a classic case of multi-system infectious disease." He recommended a book: Why Can't I Get Better? Solving the Mystery of Lyme and Chronic Disease, by Dr. Richard Horowitz.
Lyme… or Chagas.
To know for sure, he wanted one more test. I'd take an antibiotic for two weeks (cringe), rest a week, and then have my blood drawn again. Sigh.
That Sunday, I'd been asked to give the opening prayer. I hesitated, then said yes. And in the middle of praying, I had a chilling little moment — I felt my brain trying to slip into Spanish. It only lasted a few seconds, and I carried on in English, but it rattled me; I was tempted to just switch to Spanish to cover the pause. When I sat back down I nearly cried, but my sweet four-year-old kept me too busy to dwell on it. My abdomen was swelling again. When I'd gone looking for ways to bring more oxygen into the body, I'd found a great deal written about low oxygen and its possible links to cancer.
This morning my doctor in Mexico called just to check on me. I told him I'd fax over the US results, and that my abdomen was starting to swell again. His advice, in his dear accented English: "Please — you do NOT take many pills!" Oh, how I love that man and his staff. He has always cared about me as a person, never just a patient.
I'll be heading back to Mexico over the children's spring break, and returning for a full course of treatment once school lets out.
The black hole where all my nutrition used to disappear — the hiatal hernia, the river of bile, the reverse flow — has finally been fixed. Now the work turns to clearing the biofilm, helping oxygen reach my cells, and rebuilding the immune system and white-blood-cell count that years of malabsorption wore down.
So here's to health — to remarkable doctors, to family and friends who carried me, and to a God who truly does guide and direct our lives.
Miracles are happening. A heartfelt thank-you to everyone who helped me get to Mexico. The medical bills have climbed toward $25,000 over these last three months. It has been costly — but I cannot begin to describe the difference I feel now. A night-and-day difference. I find myself grateful for the smallest things. Even being able to do the laundry.
Step by step, we finally have answers. And everything I'd been doing all along — with food, with herbs, with essential oils — had been helping. The doctor in Mexico said it more than once:
"I don't understand why you don't have cancer."
I know why. And I am so grateful.
With much love,
Steffanie
A note from my heart: I'm sharing my own story here — my experience, and what my doctors told me — not medical advice. Every body and every case is different; please always walk your own path with your own trusted healthcare providers. And if you ever have trouble breathing, or any symptom that frightens you the way that night frightened me, please don't wait — call your local emergency number right away. Statements here about essential oils haven't been evaluated by the FDA and aren't meant to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease.
Comments