The Village Idiot Takes a Leap of Faith (and Some Track Two Practitioners Catch Her)

The past three weeks or so, Martin has not been at his best, as I’ve written here in the blog.

Last Thursday I spoke by phone with Martin’s excellent Track Two doctor, who decided to slenderize the supplementation routine, in case we are overloading Martin’s system. She also asked a number of spot-on questions. “Has he appeared unnecessarily anxious during this time? Any increase in the teeth grinding?” My answers suggested to her that we might be experiencing some adrenal stress.

Yesterday we visited Martin’s homotoxicologist. I explained his spacey-ness and temporary backslide. The homotoxicologist said it sounded like too much Biosode, which is a homeopathic support formula Martin uses. Did his newfound symptoms by any chance correspond with an increase in Biosode?

I pondered the timing. Why, yes. I think Martin did lose his attention around the time that I moved from 2x diluting his Biosode to just 1x diluting.

The homotoxicologist ran some tests on how Martin’s systems are functioning. She pointed to a graph on the computer screen. “Look at that—seems like he’s got some adrenal stress, too.”

Just what the Track Two doctor had divined.

When we got home I shuffled through Martin’s daily log. Sure enough, on the page marked August 28, about three weeks ago, I found this entry: “NO CONCENTRATION (just a few days since Biosode increase?)–>tired, lethargic.”

When you are a parent dealing with autism recovery, it can feel like there’s a lot of hocus-pocus and guesswork swirling around you. And there probably is guesswork; autism recovery is only emerging as a field, so some degree of hit-or-miss seems inevitable. (Actually, in my understanding, hit-or-miss constitutes a substantial component of all medical practice. The Big Imposing Hospital doctors’ buckshot approach to Martin’s issues confirms that understanding.) Plus, everything is complicated. When I sit with the homotoxicologist, I listen attentively and nod like I comprehend her explanations. Really, all I’m doing is trying (1) to grasp the bare bones, enough to tell the Track Two doctor what the homotoxicologist is up to and make sure we’re all on the same page; and (2) to remember key concepts that I want to research later, to ensure my own comfort level with the process.

In other words, there is a degree to which I have to put my trust in these persons. They are the ones building this new science of recovery, and their understanding of autism and biology outpaces mine by light years. (In college, I fulfilled my core requirement with a course titled “Chemistry for Non-Science Majors.”)

Yes, everyone who visits a doctor instead of treating himself at home takes a leap of faith. But the leap is maybe somewhat more difficult to take when the very demand to have your child treated stands to refute mainstream medicine. By choosing the biomedical approach, I—the idiot in the village of science—am saying, “That whole mountain of physicians has got it wrong, and I believe I have got it right.”

Which means I’m pretty darn happy when the members of Team Martin—Track Two show that they do, indeed, know whereof they speak.

5 thoughts on “The Village Idiot Takes a Leap of Faith (and Some Track Two Practitioners Catch Her)

  1. “Actually, in my understanding, hit-or-miss constitutes a substantial component of all medical practice.” Totally agree. Even just recently my “partner” ended up in the hospital for 6 days because of a medication he was given. While there he was given the wrong IV. I could go on and on. Of course those aren’t even really hit-or-miss, more like miss.
    It must be so hard to go against Big Imposing Hospital. It’d be so much easier to be able to trust in western medicine. I think it’s warped mainly b/c of pharmaceutical-influence, but then again maybe that makes me sound like a quack!

    • Identifying pharmaceutical influence does not make you sound like a quack to me, at least not anymore. I mean, I’ve learned a whole lot since we started seeking medical treatment for Martin. It’s possible I used to be Pollyanna-ish; I trusted the doctors and believed they acted objectively. I first started to wonder after Martin was put at birth into the NICU. I absolutely knew it wasn’t necessary, and I suspected that babies might be placed in the NICU because insurance pays a whole lot of money for that. Then, in the context of Martin’s ASD, when doctors admitted to me that they’d seen children make tremendous improvement on the DAN! protocol but in the same breath maintained that there’s no evidence it works, I felt—almost betrayed.

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