The Potomac River carving through rocky barriers
Over time, I have come to appreciate the pioneering aspects of my holistic psychiatry practice. What is a pioneer? A pioneer charts new paths into unknown territories. The word has a long history in my vocabulary given my Utah background where my parents, who were themselves pioneers, immigrated to when they left their country.
As a holistic psychiatrist, I have pioneered a new energy testing method that guides the healing process for each unique patient throughout their treatment. My approach interweaves energy and functional medicine together in one cohesive system to restore health and ultimately, a person's freedom from being a patient.
All of that sounds good, but does it feel good? How does charting-new-paths-into-unknown-territories feel? I thought I would share a little of that experience in today's update, focusing on a patient's journey with Cymbalta withdrawal.
Thirty-eight Beads
Pioneering new paths into the unknown
Thirty-eight beads . . . It may not seem like much, hardly enough to fill the bottom of a thimble, but to those who have gone through Cymbalta withdrawal, going down by 38 beads is like jumping across the Grand Canyon.
However, that is exactly the amount of Cymbalta that Jim (pseudonym) will need to reduce.
Jim is in his 60's and one of the nicest men on the planet. His goal has been to regain his health, and he calls me his "quarterback." Over the past seven months, we have been working hard on tapering his 60 mg of Cymbalta (around 180 beads), which he has been taking for the past 15 years.
Unfortunately, over the past few weeks, despite a very slow and gradual taper (sometimes lowering by only one bead per week), he has been experiencing increasing insomnia, anxiety, depression, and gassiness. Energy testing results revealed that the main cause of his symptoms was due to the intense inflammatory reaction to Cymbalta in his gastrointestinal system. The rest of his body, however, was doing fine with it. When it came to this medication, Jim seemed to have two opposing reactions. One part of him liked the Cymbalta. Another part of him was at war with it.
I was just as conflicted as Jim, but in a different way. Every part of my decade-long medical training directed me to increase his Cymbalta, while my holistic method directed me to stop it. The healing process pushed both our boundaries, not only on what is possible, but also on our allegiance, trust, and courage.
Despite feeling conflicted, I explained the energy testing results to Jim and gave him a new battle plan: a nutritional regimen without Cymbalta. Jim and his wife sat together on the sofa and calmly absorbed the information. They agreed to give the new regimen a try and come back the following week.
This is not the first time that we faced similar circumstances together. The last time was also a big leap of faith. Back in November, Jim's wife came in with him out of concern for his increasing depression, anxiety, and fatigue. He was very thirsty, getting up three times a night to drink water.
Based on the energy testing results, I asked Jim to stop his Balsalazide (for his ulcerative colitis) and reduce his Cymbalta. It made absolutely no sense from a conventional medical perspective. Weren't these meds supposed to help him feel better? Shouldn't I be increasing the "antidepressant" and "anti-inflammatory" rather than decreasing them? I told him then that if he did well after stopping Balsalazide, I will never doubt my energy testing again. He stopped it. I waited uneasily for the outcome. Within a week, his symptoms resolved and he felt significantly better.
I learned (for the nth time) that rather than being the solution to the problem, medications sometimes are the problem. That I remain repeatedly surprised by the empirical evidence illustrates how brainwashed I am by medical training.
This time I tell him, "I don't doubt my energy testing. I just doubt the tapering process in response to the energy testing."
His new regimen has plenty of natural support for depression and anxiety: St. John's Wort, SeroPlus, Norival, and other nutritional supplements. But, will his regimen be enough to handle a 38-bead decrease in Cymbalta?
In short, I'm not sure if Jim could successfully jump across the Grand Canyon, but I've told him to try anyway. Jim, having done it before and knowing that he is facing it again, has agreed to make the jump with his wife's support.
As Jim leaves my office, he glances over his shoulder to say with a small smile, "Don't doubt your tapering process."
This is how pioneers move forward: uncertainly--definitely and repeatedly--but trusting the method to guide the way, despite the unknowns, risks, and fears.