The following is excerpted from On Hope and Healing,
Dr. Nathan's forthcoming book
An Open Letter to Readers
If you have been suffering with an undiagnosed illness or are struggling with a named illness and are not improving (or are actually worsening, despite the best efforts of your healthcare providers), I have written this book for you.
If you are a physician or healthcare provider and have become aware that you are not helping as many of your patients as you might have hoped, I have written this book for you, too.
The early beginnings of On Hope and Healing grew out of a three-day course that I developed and taught to fellow physicians, which I called “What Every Physician Should Know about Treating Complex Illness.” It was my hope that I could simplify, and make practical, the emergent discipline of “functional medicine,” so that doctors who were newly exposed to this information could take it back with them to their offices and start using this material to help patients.
After a time, I realized that this course material could be the foundation for a book that might also help my more motivated patients to better understand their illnesses—and, in turn, to make better medical decisions. This body of information grew steadily, evolving into the book that you now hold in your hand.
There are as many ways to read this book as there are physicians’ and patients’ needs. A patient might choose to read from cover to cover or pick-and-choose from the Table of Contents or proceed to the Appendix, which lists patients’ stories regarding specific illnesses. (If you suffer, say, from fibromyalgia or chronic fatigue, you might take these patients’ stories as a starting point; you might then look up the illness and treatments in the Subject Index and proceed accordingly.)
Before elaborating further, I wish to invite my EtAlia series editor, Dr. James S. Baumlin, to share his thoughts on this book and its aims. Addressing patients primarily, his words appear in italics below.
Whereas open letters of this sort are rarely written in tandem, whole books do arise out of conversations and collaborations. Dr. Nathan’s textual editor, Casey D. White, has done his part, so I suppose it’s my turn to contribute a little something to the cause.
I have overseen the publication of On Hope and Healing out of an unwavering conviction that books can save lives, and that a physician’s best prescription includes information—reading—as well as medication. For, you see, I was Dr. Nathan’s patient before I was his press editor. I was among those many unfortunate who had “fallen through the medical cracks,” showing a series of seemingly inscrutable neurological symptoms that Dr. Nathan eventually diagnosed as mold toxicity—a medical condition that, in my case, developed full-blown into multiple chemical sensitivities (MCS). The latter diagnosis seemed a prison sentence to me, since MCS is a debilitating condition for which conventional (allopathic) medicine offers no viable treatment. As I sat slouched in his office, reeling from the building’s disinfectants (which worked upon my weakened nervous system like so many poisons), Dr. Nathan scanned his bookshelves. Eventually his eyes fell upon a book whose homeopathic subject was “allergy elimination,” a notion that Western medicine finds implausible, though Eastern “alternative” medicine takes it for granted.
“Another patient of mine found this book helpful,” he said, standing and pulling it from the shelf. “Read it and see what you think.”
Read it I did, and put it to practice; as a consequence, my MCS symptoms—while not cured—have subsided, becoming more an inconvenience than a disability. I have, in effect, gotten my life back. And I owe this to a book recommended to me by an open-minded holistic practitioner. Most other physicians in my purview would not have heard, much less have read, of the protocols described therein: had they heard of it, many would have been incredulous, some mistrustful, a few downright hostile. To illustrate, let me tell a brief story.
When Dr. Nathan moved his practice from Springfield, Missouri (my hometown) to Santa Rosa, California, I felt very much alone but not yet desperate. I had researched my various conditions, after all, and could write up my own narrative “case history,” including a summary-record of medications, protocols and treatments. Armed with this written narrative, I made an appointment with a well-respected local practitioner—I’ll call him Dr. M—in hopes that he might become my family physician. His terse response has been seared into my memory.
“I don’t know what that is,” he said, referring to something in my narrative. “I wouldn’t prescribe that,” he added, referring to some medication or other. “That’s not part of my paradigm,” he concluded, referring vaguely to one of the illnesses, perhaps, or to one of the treatments. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” were his final, dismissive words. I left his office less in anger than in shock.
What did my little episode with Dr. M teach me? That the typical allopath is not well equipped to diagnose, much less to treat, many of the complex/chronic illnesses assaulting this current generation. The typical allopath will not have heard of some treatments listed in this book; worse, he or she might not believe in the disease itself. I wish I had had the presence of mind to ask Dr. M which of my treatments were “not part” of his precious “paradigm.”
I do know that many physicians question the very existence of mold toxicity; perhaps that was why Dr. M neglected to prescribe a medication as safe and simple as cholestyramine (which aids in removing micotoxins from the body). Also—despite recent research to the contrary—much of the medical profession holds fast to the notion that MCS is not physiological but psychological in origin: that is, it’s all “in the patient’s head.”
Admittedly, mold and MCS are my own bugbears. I admire the courage of colleagues who raise autistic children, and I have watched them search, often frantically, for answers: “How, why did this happen?” “What do we do now?” Working from academic studies (often underwritten by pharmaceutical, chemical, and insurance companies), the scientific community still refuses to acknowledge that incidents of autism have risen exponentially over recent decades. “The data do not support claims that autism is on the rise. In the past, incidents went unreported, whereas now they are often misdiagnosed and misreported.” So goes the typical lecture that the typical nursing student hears in a typical college classroom in America. Given such “official” attitudes, the parent of an autistic child will feel very much alone—as will the person suffering from mold toxicity or MCS or fibromyalgia or chronic fatigue.
If you as a patient (or a patient’s family member) find yourself feeling similarly “on your own,” the information in this book should give you hope. But don’t be surprised if you have to teach your physician some of what you’ll have learned; and don’t be too surprised if your physician misunderstands, disapproves, or chooses not to listen. (“That’s not part of my paradigm . . . .”)
While I no longer care to see Dr. M, I am fortunate to have met Dr. S. Though diffident upon hearing my story—“I don’t know if I can help you,” was his initial response—Dr. S. rose to the occasion. “I don’t know if I can help you,” he said, adding, “but I’ll try.” What more can one ask? Dr. S has never “rubber stamped” a protocol or a medication that I’ve brought to his attention; he exercises a healthy skepticism and does his own homework, and I trust his judgment. Together, we are becoming a team, and I am grateful for that fact.
I should add that I am fortunate and grateful for having been Dr. Nathan’s one-time patient. Let me say, too, that the above remarks are my own entirely, unsolicited and not necessarily a reflection of Dr. Nathan’s views. I would never, ever recommend that ideas presented in this book be pursued against the advice (or without the knowledge and consent) of an individual’s personal physician. My aim in writing as a patient to other patients—indeed, in writing of complex/chronic illness to others facing similar circumstances—is to affirm the necessary collaboration between a patient and his or her healthcare practitioners; this is a collaboration best built upon trust, shared responsibility, active research, and honest communication.
At this point, I yield the floor back to Dr. Nathan, who shall address physicians’ concerns and further ways of reading this book.
By virtue of the fact that you hold this book in your hand, you are distinguishing yourself from the run-of-the-mill practitioner whose “paradigm” does not embrace holistic treatment and alternative therapies. Those of you who are just starting your own practice or want to make improvements to your current care-giving model might begin at the beginning and proceed systematically from there. Since this book presents my philosophy-in-action, it starts with the most basic topics: How does one create a nonthreatening, comforting office environment? How does one treat one’s patients—that is, not their illnesses per se, but their persons, learning to listen, to respect, to inform and to empathize as well as to diagnose and heal?
As with my course materials, I have organized this book in the sequence that I deemed most beneficial for those who are new to holisitic practices. But many of you will already be “on board” and looking for alternative treatments to your patients’ chronic/complex illnesses. I trust that the book’s “apparatus” (the Table of Contents, Appendix, and Subject Index) will lead you to the “chapter and verse” that will prove of most service. But let me add a further piece of advice. Do share the information in this book—better yet, share this book, along with others in your library—with those patients who take an active interest in their illness and in the means of healing.
As Dr. Baumlin suggests above, I keep a lending library in my medical office and have never hesitated to prescribe reading as well as medication. Our profession would be performing a great, humane service if it recommitted to educating and not simply to treating patients, as if the means of treatment were so many mysteries imparted secretively to a priestly caste. Let us all agree not to fall into this aggrandizing delusion, which places the patient beneath us rather than beside us as partners in their healing.
For the wise practitioner knows that healing comes from within the patient, and that we caregivers can best serve as midwives to that healing. Over my career, I have learned that the single greatest asset that a patient (and a physician) can possess is hope. A patient without hope will rarely heal; a patient with hope has a very good chance. This book, thus, is On Hope and Healing, in that right order. By gathering together the latest diagnostic and treatment techniques and organizing them into a coherent whole, this book aims to serve those many thousands who, sadly, have “fallen through the medical cracks.” Its practical treatments give a real basis for hope: there is good reason to hope, even in the midst of chronic/complex illness, and this book gives the proof.
Regardless of how you approach this material, it is my deepest wish that this book be valuable to you. Enjoy, and be well!
Neil Nathan, M.D.
Santa Rosa, California
14 July 2010
James S. Baumlin, Ph.D.
Springfield, Missouri
14 July 2010
