Yeast Defeated (?), Another Beast Rises (?)

On the offhand chance you haven’t been tracking this yourself, I can tell you that these are the most recent mentions, on this blog, of yeast:

  • the 20 April 2018 post on detoxing, when I wrote that yeast was not causing Martin’s silliness;
  • the 22 February 2018 post on current issues, when I asked whether yeast might be implicated in skin rashes (apparently, it wasn’t); and
  • the 25 October 2017 post on meal preparations, when I noted that fruit no longer seems to cause yeast issues for Martin.

Years ago, I wrote about yeast constantly. I called it the “yeast beast” and lamented its repeated torment of Martin. Every time I thought we had yeast under control, I’d see a “fluffy” bowel movement, or the characteristic rash would emerge again.

Martin still takes Candex, which was the product that (I think) finally subdued his candida. I’m not ready to add yeast to the So Far Gone list, but for now, it’s gone enough.

Parasites think the disappearance of candida has given them an opening to fill.

Martin passes a lot through his skin. As of late, a lot of what passes through Martin’s skin looks like parasite activity is involved.

On the morning of June 10, just after we returned from a few days in California, Martin woke with a collection of strange bumps on his left forearm, many of which he’d already scratched raw. They looked like tiny insect bites, as if a single bug had crawled onto Martin, wandered about a small area eating its fill of flesh, and disappeared, or as if a bunch of bugs had assembled, used the arm as a buffet, then dispersed and gone home.

Martin’s arm hadn’t shown any evidence of this the night before. I tore apart his bed, searching for a spider nest or other den of revulsion. I found nothing.

By breakfast, when the fresh scratches had faded, the bumps started to look like a rash.

Martin said the bumps didn’t hurt, and didn’t itch (anymore?), but he wouldn’t let me touch them or examine them too closely. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” he said, tugging his arm away.

What the heck? Martin wakes with an odd collection of angry bumps, within a few square inches of skin, with no evident cause, which he then claims are not bothering him? In usual circumstances, I would attribute this to a mystery insect and move on. This year hasn’t been usual circumstances, though. At least not when it comes to parasite activity.

A week before the mystery bumps, I had posted about the condition of Martin’s arms and legs. With his skin such a mess, I was forced to consider whether parasites could be at work—again—already—just a few months after the anti-parasitical drug Alinia had reduced Martin’s itching and his inappropriate comments. I took Martin back to his New York biomed doctor, who agreed with my assessment. Parasites. Dad-blasted parasites. The doctor prescribed another round of Alinia. I avoid using any pharmaceuticals with Martin—we used nystatin once, for yeast, and it made Martin’s behavior bonkers—but the Alinia had worked so immediately, earlier this year, that I agreed to try the drug again. We did a first round while still in the States, and the second round here in Costa Rica.

If anything, Martin’s limbs are looking worse than in June. These are current photos of his legs:

  

Martin is picking at his skin compulsively. He’s also putting his fingers into his nose and mouth. Not picking his nose, thank goodness. More like rubbing and poking, as if his nose and mouth are irritated.

Do these symptoms mean Alinia isn’t doing the trick, this time? That whatever parasites are plaguing Martin are unaffected by Alinia? Or that parasites aren’t the problem? Or that parasites are the problem, and they’re trying to escape through Martin’s legs?

We spent years getting candida under control. I’m hoping parasites don’t mount that kind of protracted offensive. So many factors are at play. The New York doctor contends that we need stronger chelators, that parasites cannot be finished off while the body carries too great a heavy-metal load. (We know, based on hair analysis and other testing, that Martin has trouble excreting heavy metals. We use chelators including prescription DMSA, oral Liposomal EDTA, algas, and Bioray NDF Plus. I’ve never agreed to IV chelation because I consider it too harsh.) Heavy metals may be playing a role, but I also need to look at the ways I enable parasites to infiltrate Martin’s defenses. I try to be careful about what products we use for cleaning, and certainly Martin doesn’t have amalgam fillings, as I once did (and probably passed a significant portion of my toxicity to poor Martin). But Martin still eats fish, lots of fish (even if I am continually trying to keep him off raw fish). My friend Stacey re-washes vegetables labeled “triple-washed.” I don’t do that. I let Martin play in tide pools and swim just about anywhere, like at the river mouth with his day camp. And no amount of modeling, instructing, helping, begging, or pleading has yet got Martin to wash his hands properly. He prefers to make an impatient mess by rinsing his hands and shaking the water off.

In short, there are ways I can step up my parasite-prevention game, even as I keep on my parasite-elimination game through, for example, regular use of diatomaceous earth.

Two months later, Martin’s forearm still shows the remnants of the many bumps. Metaphorically, that means I’ve got to roll up my sleeves and get to work.

Quick Improvement

That last post left you hanging!

I actually wrote the post while sitting in the waiting room of Martin’s biomed doctor, three weeks ago. I described symptoms Martin was experiencing; most problematic among them was Martin making disastrously inappropriate utterances that he knew to be provocative. I described the behavior as “almost like Tourette Syndrome (Martin does not have Tourette)”: In addition to calling his classmate a “racist,” Martin was saying odd things like, “I think schools should be segregated again,” or, “Hispanic kids who speak Spanish aren’t as smart as other kids.” (Martin is Hispanic, and speaks Spanish, and our family does not hold views anything like he was expressing.) When asked, Martin seemed unable to provide any explanation for the statements. He said, “Sometimes words come into my head that I know I shouldn’t say, but I can’t stop them before they come out of my mouth.”

After examining Martin and hearing about these and other symptoms, the doctor surmised that parasites were at work. Martin’s doctor in New York had made the same guess, and actually had already prescribed an anti-parasitical drug, Alinia®. Given my hesitation to administer any pharmaceutical to Martin (side effects, unintended consequences, wanting to avoid synthetics for whatever we can address naturally), I held out for a second opinion from his biomed doctor. She agreed that we should consider Alinia, and she added natural measures to Martin’s protocol to keep the parasites at bay, long-term, including diatomaceous earth.

Alinia is administered in a three-day course, followed by a two-week break and another three-day course. We started the first course two days after returning from our visit to the California biomed doctor.

Remarkably, just his second day on the Alinia, Martin’s inappropriate comments virtually ceased.

Within a week of completing the first three-day course, the skin rashes and itching also eased.

Rarely do we hit the nail square on the head when it comes to Martin’s periodic symptoms, but this time I think both doctors were spot-on: Parasites were at work, and Martin needed a strong remedy.

He’s on the second course of Alinia now, after the two-week pause, and he’s also using diatomaceous earth. His reading tutor texted me this evening to say that his focus seemed improved. I’m optimistic.

Now for the tough part: Martin’s biomed doctor recommended that Martin stop eating sushi, at least the kind with raw fish, which can contribute to parasite activity. Martin adores sushi. We eat sushi at least twice per week when we’re not traveling (I get the vegan version), and it’s a go-to food when we are. Martin likes to order six pieces of octopus sushi, one salmon avocado roll, and one steamed shrimp roll. (If that seems like a lot of food, let me mention that he consumes the entire tray in about five minutes and then, often, flags down the waiter to request more octopus sushi.) I did some research and discovered that octopus is virtually always poached when used in sushi (though the animal may be raw in thinly sliced sashimi). So the octopus is cooked, as is the steamed shrimp. So far I haven’t had much luck determining whether poaching or steaming is sufficient to kill all parasites (investigation continues!); still, I get comfort from the fact that the octopus and shrimp are, at least, not raw.

As to the salmon, which really seems to pose significant risk when raw, Adrian and I, after much consternation, have reached rapprochement with Martin: He can still eat his salmon avocado roll, but we request that the salmon be cooked. Last Sunday, on their usual weekend “boys’ afternoon,” Adrian and Martin went for sushi, and Adrian insisted that the salmon be cooked. Adrian came home and reported that the wait staff were initially befuddled by the request but then, upon discovering that their kitchen had the magic capability to cook salmon, complied. Martin, for his part, arrived home and announced, “Actually my sushi with cooked salmon was pretty good!”

Additional positive news: “[Freezing fish] to an internal temperature of -4°F for at least seven days [kills] any parasites that may be present,” although “[h]ome freezers are usually between 0°F and 10°F and may not be cold enough to kill the parasites.” Immediately upon reading this news, I checked the deep freezer in my basement and found -10°F. The $250 (or so) of cold-smoked salmon—a breakfast favorite of Martin—in that freezer should be safe for him to consume.

This vegan never thought she’d find herself checking freezer temperatures to determine parasite risk in seafood.

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One piece of octopus sushi already gone, but here are the remaining five, plus his salmon avocado roll and steamed shrimp roll.

Juggling Enigmas

Last month we visited Dr. C, to talk about Martin’s recent slump. Major symptoms remain emotional instability and perseveration. He searches for reasons to melt down. One Sunday evening, he was sitting in the family room watching television with Adrian and started crying. The purported reason? Hours earlier, Adrian had tried to buy him a fresh orange juice but the gym café was out of fresh orange juice. The meltdown was bad enough. Worse still, Martin wasn’t able to bring himself back. He slipped into an anxiety rut, crying on and off, even screaming, until bedtime. He couldn’t even eat dinner. As to the perseveration, he’s over Mickey Mouse Clubhouse (hallelujah) but stuck on subway maps and New York City landmarks. He demands constant trips to the City, then tantrums when we can’t go every weekend day.

Aaaaaaaaargh.

I suspected that Lyme disease was playing its dirty tricks. Dr. C, based on seeing Martin, reviewing his latest blood work, and talking though recent history with me, had another idea: parasites. She made a pretty convincing case. For example, Martin had recently developed a tic of nose picking, and it really does seem to be a straight-up tic; he doesn’t take anything from his nose (thank heavens for small favors), just jams his finger into his nose, removes it, and puts it in his mouth. Repeatedly. Which is great for developing social skills with his classmates. Parasites are linked to tics. We’ve been concerned for years about Martin’s biofilm. Biofilm is a place parasites can hide. On and on.

So we have adjusted Martin’s protocol to address parasites and biofilm issues. Already this week, I am seeing some improvement in the tic and his emotional state.

Which is not so say Lyme doesn’t remain a problem. I notice immediate changes when Martin is on MC-BB-1 and MC-Bar-2, or other remedies designed to affect Lyme. Moreover, Martin has recently developed an allergy to beef. What does a beef allergy have to do with Lyme disease? I’m going to leave that as a teaser for my upcoming post, titled “What Does a Beef Allergy Have to Do With Lyme Disease?”

Parasites. Lyme disease. Biofilm. I’m back to feeling like I never really know what’s going on; autism recovery is a constant juggling of issues, and hoping they are the right issues. Sometimes I feel shocked that we’ve made any progress at all.

But clearly we have, so I keep juggling enigmas.

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Christmas kid, examining the loot.