“I was born with an imbalance in my brain,” my patient explains to me, “The medication corrects it—Since I started taking Cipralex, I wake up feeling like a normal person again.”
It is estimated that about 10% of adults in North America are taking a medication to help them cope with anxiety and depression. Many people swear by these substances, others claim that they worsen depression, cause uncomfortable side effects and fail to treat the root cause of symptoms, numbing us to the experience and cause of our emotional pain and physical symptoms. The reality is, however, that prescriptions for these medications is increasing.
What are anti-depressants?
Most anti-depressant medication falls into the pharmaceutical category of SSRI, or Selective-Serotonin Re-uptake Inhibitors, like Prozac or Cipralex. These medications prevent the body from mopping up the “happy hormone”, serotonin, in the brain, making its feel-good effects last longer. The result is thought to be more serotonin in the brain and, therefore, increased feelings of happiness and euphoria. Other drugs work on preventing the re-uptake of other neurotransmitters, brain chemicals dopamine and norepinephrine, which also cause feelings of happiness, pleasure and reward, and give us energy.
The Monoamine Theory of Depression:
The leading theory of depression for decades, the Monoamine Theory, states that in people who suffer from depression, there is an imbalance in serotonin production and signalling in the brain—a “serotonin deficiency”—which SSRI medication corrects. Because this is how anti-depressant medication works, this has taken over as the prevailing theory of depression. However, there has never been a published study that proves that people who suffer from depression or anxiety have issues with brain serotonin production or metabolism. It almost seems that pharmaceutical companies have “reasoned backwards” creating a theory in order to support anti-depressant use.
As patients, we want to believe that the medicine our doctors give us is just that, medicine—something that treats the root cause of disease and makes us healthier, rather than covering up our symptoms while the underlying problem continues to worsen. However, most medications don’t work that way. While Advil may alleviate a headache, we intuitively know that our headache was not caused by an Advil deficiency. Likewise, alcohol may calm down those plagued by social anxiety, but we know that alcohol isn’t a cure for social anxiety; it is a drug that can temporarily help symptoms and relying on it will only cause further health problems down the line. We know that for most health conditions, while a drug may help temporarily, something else is going on inside our bodies that warrants attention.
While the percentage of people who are medicated for depression has increased in recent years, the rate of disability from mental health conditions is steadily on the rise. This is perplexing, especially if these drugs are doing what they’re “supposed to”, which is curing a brain chemical imbalance. Shouldn’t medicating patients with depression result in a cure, or at least a declining rate of disability for mental health concerns? Clearly, something else is going on.
Harnessing the Placebo Effect:
Many patients report the fact that anti-depressant medications saved their lives, radically turning around serious and debilitating symptoms. I’ve heard quite a few stories from individuals who couldn’t get out of bed until they found the right SSRI for their body.
The data shows that SSRI medication has the ability to reduce depressive symptoms by 30% in individuals, a modest reduction at best, but still significant. But, do these medications work as well as the studies claim? A glance at the entire body of research casts doubt on the efficacy of anti-depressant medication:
Firstly, there is a large body of unpublished negative studies. This means that studies that show there is no difference in anti-depressant medication and placebo is left out of the body of literature, favouring a bias for positive publications, publications that find anti-depressants work. Medical research draws conclusions by producing studies over and over again. When the results of several studies are combined, doctors and researchers are able to draw conclusions about whether a medication works or not. When only positive research is published, without negative research to balance it out, it casts medications in a favourable light that they may not necessarily deserve. This is an unfortunate phenomenon in medical science as a whole, and often skews the evidence in favour of drugs that may not be as effective as we hope.
Secondly, the gold standard for evidence, the Randomized Control Trial (RCT) may have design flaws due to the nature of the medications being tested. In RCTs, patients are randomized into two groups. One group is given placebo and the other the active drug that is being tested. The subjects and the people evaluating them are both blinded—neither knows which group is given the drug and which is given the placebo. This reduces the possibility of bias in reporting and observing the effects of the medication. The idea is because an inert pill, or “placebo” may be able to exert the effects of a drug, providing about 30% benefit, according to some sources. However, when patients who are in the active group experience side effects of the medication: gastric symptoms, nausea, headaches, altered sleep and appetite, they quickly become alert to the that fact that they are in the medication group, leaving room for the placebo effect to occur. This is termed the “Active Placebo Effect”. When SSRIs are compared with active placebos—placebos that don’t act as medicine but produce the same side effects—we found their effects rapidly diminished, perhaps because the placebo effect was not taking effect anymore.
What about the people who SSRIs help?
To cast doubt on the efficacy of anti-depressants does not in any way invalidate those who have felt the medications helped them. Every body is different and I believe that it is not for us to say how someone should or shouldn’t be reacting to a medication or therapy. The mysteries of our bodies are vast and there is only so much that we’re aware of in the world of medicine and health. Furthermore, the placebo effect, while often being used to dismiss therapies (“oh, it’s probably just a placebo effect”) should really be viewed as an amazing miracle of medicine and evidence of how powerful our bodies and minds are. The placebo effect shows us that, according to our beliefs, we have the power to heal ourselves. We believe that we’re getting treatment, we believe the treatment will help us, and the very nature of those beliefs heals our physical bodies.
This does not mean that the people who were suffering before taking the medication were “faking it” or should have been able to just snap out of it—that’s not how the placebo effect works. The placebo effect is based on changing our beliefs, which, as you may know, is not something we can simply will ourselves to do. However, the fact that our beliefs hold this kind of healing power, I find, frankly, is amazing. The placebo effect shows us evidence of an almost magical ability of the mind-body connection to heal ourselves, without side effects, and I believe it is something that we should harness and celebrate.
What’s the problem, then?
While anti-depressants may be harnessing the placebo effect to help individuals heal, there are downsides to them as well.
Firstly, SSRI medications have a long list of side effects, from weight gain and fatigue to sexual dysfunction and vitamin deficiencies, being on these medications over the long-term can be unpleasant for some and seriously affect quality of life for others.
Secondly, anti-depressant medications are notoriously difficult to get off of. I have assisted many patients in getting off their medication, with the help of their medical team, but it’s never easy and must always be done slowly and responsibly. Getting off medication involves a slow wean over months with support of natural therapies, psychotherapy and lifestyle changes. Because these drugs force the brain to adapt, causing a very real chemical imbalance, oftentimes the withdrawal effects are so intolerable that patients are not able to come off.
Most patients who decide to try anti-depressant medications are not aware how difficult it will be to stop taking the medication, if they should eventually choose to do so. This is unfortunate, as I believe that full informed consent should be applied to patients so that they may make appropriate decisions about their health—patients should be made aware that they are expected to stay on the medication for life and that weaning will be very difficult and, in some cases, not possible.
Finally, there is a growing body of evidence showing that patients who do not receive medication, but other forms of help such as diet and lifestyle changes, psychotherapy and stress management, do better, have higher rates of remission and less relapse than those who are medicated. As we see with the studies that show that more medication is correlated with more disability from mental health concerns, it is possible that medicating depression is only worsening the problem for most people.
So, what causes anxiety and depression?
Scientists and clinicians are not sure what the cause of depression is. However, the Cytokine Theory of Depression and the Gut-Brain Connection are two areas that are gaining increasing interest from researchers. These theories state that depression may be a cause of inflammation in the body that affects the brain, and that imbalances in gut health, especially with gut bacteria may offset mental health, respectively. Naturopathic doctors also notice a clinical correlation between burnout or “adrenal fatigue” and mental health symptoms.
Healing the mind and body, however, starts with creating a therapeutic relationship with a professional that you trust. After that, I find that healing the gut, correcting inflammation and nutrient deficiencies while addressing harmful core beliefs and stress can have wonderful results for healing depression and anxiety.
Depression is a symptom:
Psychiatry would have us believe that depression and anxiety are conditions that we are born with. Conventional medicine states that perhaps we have a familiar tendency to develop these conditions, perhaps we’ve had them since childhood, but, and in this case it is clear, depression and anxiety are not things that you heal from; they are things you simply manage.
I disagree. I don’t believe that depression and anxiety stand on their own as diseases, but symptoms of a deeper imbalance. Like any symptom, I believe mental health concerns are trying to tell us something. Our bodies have no other way of communicating with us other than through the symptoms they produce: lack of motivation, sore muscles, bloating and diarrhea, headache, joint pain, brain fog, fatigue and so on. As naturopathic doctors, we are trained to listen, not just to our patients, but the messages their bodies are signalling to us through symptoms.
This means that, when I start seeing a patient with depression, whether they are on medication or not, we develop a full work-up, asking in-depth questions about sleep, diet, exercise, digestion, mental status, mood, energy, reproductive health and so on. I connect these symptoms together to find out what is going on beyond what may be immediately visible.
Depression and anxiety often have a root cause. The cause may be stress, childhood trauma, leaky gut, adrenal fatigue, inflammation or even medication and drug use itself. Through uncovering the root of the issue, we are able to treat it, helping the body restore itself to balance and health.
My philosophy of healing is that, sometimes, illness can be a gift, especially if it encourages us to delve deep into our lives and values and make the necessary changes for healing ourselves. Sometimes depression and mental health challenges can be the beginning of a grand and fulfilling journey where we learn to connect more deeply to our bodies, discover our life purpose and a greater sense of happiness and life satisfaction.
I have some amazing news—my patient is better. Whereas only a few short months ago, he was plagued by inexplicable weight gain, debilitating fatigue, depressed mood—convincing him he must be suffering from clinical depression—a sore throat and an inability to regulate his temperature, now he feels normal. A few months ago, his lab results indicated a serious and spiralling case of autoimmune thyroid disease. Now the lab results shows markers that are completely within the normal limits. My patient got to where he is now naturally—he did not take a single medication. His body was unleashing an aggressive attack against his thyroid gland under a year ago. Now, his thyroid is healthy, happy and working normally. My patient is back to work, exercising, traveling, feeling happy, fulfilled and creative. He is no longer suffering.
The Thyroid Gland
The thyroid gland is an important organ. Shaped like a butterfly and located right below the Adam’s Apple on the front of the neck, it has a variety of essential, life-sustaining tasks. The thyroid is responsible for maintaining our body’s metabolic function. It keeps our cells busy, and allows us to convert our food and fat energy into important metabolic functions. It regulates our hormones, cardiovascular system, skin and hair health, contributes to mood, regulates body temperature, balances estrogen and progesterone in females, thereby contributing to healthy fertility, and helps with the functioning of the immune system.
However, as important as the thyroid gland is, it’s also the body’s “canary in the coal mine”, susceptible to the smallest changes in our health status. Physical, mental and emotional stress can contribute to declines in healthy thyroid functioning, as can exposure to environmental toxins, inflammation and deficiencies in important nutrients such as iron, zinc, selenium and iodine. Because of the thyroid’s senstivities, however, we can use impending thyroid symptoms as signs of overall body imbalance. Therefore, treating thyroid symptoms at their root is important for restoring our bodies to mental, emotional and physical health.
Hypothyroidism Symptoms
Most commonly, when the health of the thyroid gland is affected, it’s functions decline, causing hypothyroidism, or under-active thyroid. Hypothyroidism of any cause is the most common thyroid condition and is very common in the general population, affecting about 4-8% of North Americans. The symptoms range from mildly upsetting to debilitating and can show up in a variety of the body’s organ systems. They include feelings of puffiness, especially of the face, caused by water retention; fatigue; dry skin and hair; hair loss; constipation and slow digestion; mental depression and low mood; acne; mental sluggishness, brain fog and poor memory and concentration; menstrual irregularities, heavy or scanty menstrual flow; infertility; cold hands and feet; orange-tinted skin; and, of course, weight gain that is unexplained by changes to diet and activity levels.
Bloating, yeast overgrowth and dysbiosis can occur from hypothyroidism when the core body temperature drops below 37 degrees Celsius. A cooler body temperature due to under-active thyroid can upset the intestinal flora and cause an overgrowth in harmful bacteria and yeast, causing further fatigue, weight gain, depression and digestive symptoms.
Diagnosis and Lab Testing
In the standard medical model, thyroid conditions are screened by testing a hormone called TSH, or Thyroid Stimulating Hormone. TSH is not a thyroid hormone, but a hormone produced by the brain that signals the thyroid to work. Through measuring TSH, doctors can tell indirectly how hard the thyroid is working. Is TSH is high, it can indicate a sluggish thyroid, since it is requiring more stimulation from the brain. Lower TSH levels may indicate that the thyroid is working fine. So, the higher the TSH levels, the more sluggish the thyroid. However, the reference ranges for TSH are from 0.3 to 5 U/ml, which indicates a wide range of possible thyroid states. A TSH under 5 will not be flagged by a medical doctor as being hypothyroid, even though symptoms may be present!
More progressive clinicians start to become concerned about thyroid function when symptoms are present and TSH is above 2.5 U/ml. Therefore, many patients with under-active thyroid and upsetting thyroid symptoms may be told by their doctors that everything is fine, delaying treatment and invalidating their decision to seek help.
When TSH is off, doctors then test the thyroid hormones T4 and T3. (There is also T1, T2 and calcitonin). The thyroid makes the hormones T3 (20%) and T4 (80%) but the active hormone that allows the thyroid to exert it’s effects on the body is T3. T4 must be converted to T3 by the body. Problems of conversion of T4 to T3 can be caused by stress and inflammation. It may be helpful for your doctor to test for reverse T3, a hormone that is created from T4 if the body is in a state of imbalance.
To detect if hypothyroidism is caused by autoimmune disease, also known as Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis, doctors will test for antibodies that attack the thyroid, anti-TPO and anti-thyroglobulin. An imbalance in the immune system and inflammation in the body, often caused by stress, can cause the body’s own immune system to attack the thyroid gland, preventing it from working properly.
Treat the Patient, Not the Disease
Naturopathic and functional medicine aims to use lab testing to detect patterns that are playing out below the surface of the body. We connect signs and symptoms and labs, not to diagnose a disease but to look at patterns of imbalance that are playing out in our patients’ bodies before disease sets in. This allows us to intervene before things are too late and healing becomes more difficult.
The Cause of Hypothyroidism
Gluten: There are numerous studies that link thyroid issues to celiac disease or non-celiac gluten sensitivity. In one study of 100 patients, hypothyroid symptoms were reversed after following a completely gluten-free diet for 6 months.
Goitrogens: Soy, raw cruciferous vegetables (kale, broccoli, cauliflower, spinach, etc.), nightshades (tomatoes, potatoes eggplant, etc.) and coffee can act as “goitrogens”, suppressing the thyroid. Lightly cooking leafy greens, avoiding soy, especially processed, GMO soy, coffee and nightshades is helpful for avoiding the thyroid-suppressive effects of these foods.
Leaky gut: Food sensitivities, bacterial imbalance, antibiotic use, stress, excess alcohol and caffeine and intestinal infections can disrupt the barrier between the intestine and the rest of the body. Termed “intestinal permeability” or “leaky gut” this condition is getting increasing attention for being the root cause of inflammatory and autoimmune conditions. Identifying food sensitivities through an IgG blood test or trial-and-error and then healing the gut for 3-6 months is essential for getting thyroid health on track.
Dysbiosis: There is a close correlation between thyroid health and the health of the gut bacteria. Every human has 4-5 lbs of essential, life-giving bacteria living in their intestinal track. These bacteria help us break down food, help train our immune system and product hormones like thyroid hormone and serotonin, the happy hormone. It is estimated that 20% of thyroid hormones are produced by gut bacteria. Therefore a disruption in gut bacteria can wipe out the body’s ability to regulate the thyroid and metabolism effectively.
Environmental toxins: Toxic estrogens, heavy metals and other environmental toxins can suppress thyroid function. The thyroid gland is a sponge that is susceptible to whatever toxic burden the body is under and therefore, thyroid issues may be the first sign that the body is under toxic stress. 2-3 yearly detoxes are recommended to improve liver health, decrease the toxic burden and support a healthy thyroid. Detoxes are best done by eating a clean, grain-free diet and detoxifying the home by reducing exposure to pesticides, radiation, tobacco smoke, excessive alcohol, mercury from fish and silver fillings, bromide, fluoride and chloride (from swimming pools), which can decrease the body’s ability to absorb iodide.
Stress: Stress can suppress thyroid function by preventing the conversion of T4 to T3, the active form of thyroid hormone. During stress, T4 becomes something called “reverse T3”. Both cortisol and thyroid hormones require the amino acid tyrosine for their production. Therefore, during times of the stress, when the demands on the body for making cortisol are higher, not as many resources may be used to produce thyroid hormones and hypothyroid symptoms may result. Ensuring proper cortisol function and decreasing stress is important for recovering from thyroid symptoms.
Nutrient deficiency: Thyroid hormones are made of tyrosine and iodine. A deficiency in protein and iodine may result in an inability of the body to make thyroid hormone. Selenium is also important for converting T4 to T3. Zinc and iron are also important for proper thyroid functions and, in modern day society, these deficiencies are very common.
Inflammation: Using high omega-3 fatty acids EPA and DHA from fish, rhemannia and turmeric can help bring down systemic inflammation and decrease autoimmunity, thereby working to treat autoimmune Hashimoto’s thyroiditis and restoring thyroid function.
A Word On Medication
Synthroid is a synthetic version of the thyroid hormone T4. When prescribed, it can replace the need for the thyroid to act and help the body get back into balance. However, since T4 must be converted to T3 in order to become active, simply adding Synthroid may not be enough to eradicate thyroid symptoms if there is a problem converting T4 to T3, such as selenium deficiency, dysbiosis, inflammation or stress. Furthermore, when the cause of hypothyroidism is autoimmune, this means that there are antibodies attacking the thyroid, not that there is something wrong with the thyroid itself. Without addressing the underlying autoimmunity and inflammation, patients will only need to eventually continue to increase their Synthroid dosage as the ability of the thyroid to function gradually decreases.
For more information on how to address thyroid symptoms naturally, contact me for a free 15-minute consultation.
I’m tucking away at the cake again because the people who’ve invited me for dinner have dessert. Dessert: the gluten-y, sugar-y, dough-y sweetness of relief from deprivation, the dopamine and serotonin rush when the food smashes against my lips, teeth and tongue and gets swallowed, in massive globs, into my stomach. The desire for more smashes maddeningly around my skull. Getting the next fix is all I can think about. I reach for another slice when no one is looking. I guess some people call this binging, a complete loss of control around “forbidden” foods. All I care about is devouring another bite, and feeling the euphoric blood sugar rush that flushes me with giddiness and good feelings before the shame sets in.
One I’ve begun to indulge, however, the voice demanding more exits stage left and is replaced with a little gremlin who fills my head with sneering and loathsome disparagement. It doesn’t speak in whole sentences, but rather in snippets, sentence fragments and hateful keywords. Sugarrr…. it hisses, gluten, bloating… FAT! Ugly, worthless…No control, no willpower, useless… failure…FAT! Not that the cake contains fat, but fat is what I will become when I allow the cake to become a part of me, the little evil voice suggests. Sometimes I can temporarily drown out his voice by eating more cake, which only makes him louder once all the cake is gone or my stomach groans with fullness.
I’ve come to realize that this cycle can be set off with feelings of boredom, anxiety and, most of all, hunger. A low-calorie diet, detox or a period of controlled eating leaves me susceptible to these binge lapses. It’s taken me the better part of 30 years to figure that out. However, stress can also send me to the pantry, digging out whatever sugary treats I can find. And so the cycle of loss of control followed by self-loathing begins.
The next day, or even within the next few hours, I feel fat.
Fat feels a certain way to me. It feels physical: puffy, bloated and sick. Most of all, it feels like I’ve done something wrong, that I am wrong. It brings with it feelings of lethargy and heaviness, not the light, perkiness I associate with health and femininity. I feel gross, unworthy of good things: attention, love, affection. I feel like I’ve failed. I feel like I’ve lost control of myself. For, if I can’t even control when I shove in my mouth, how can I have power over anything else in life?
However, a person can’t really feel fat. I mean, especially not after only a day of overeating.
And besides, fat is not a feeling.
Perhaps fat was a stand-in feeling for other difficult emotions my childhood brain couldn’t fully comprehend. Like the time I wrote in my diary, at the age of 8 years old, That’s it, I’m fat, I’m going on a diet. From now on, I’m only eating sandwiches. Funny and touching, but also sad, I wonder what 8-year-old me was really feeling when she claimed to feel “fat”. Perhaps she felt helpless, out of control, different from the herd and hopeless about fitting in.
If I pause to peer below the surface of “fat”, I find other words or cognitive connections that underlie it. When I feel “fat” I also feel out of control, worthless, lonely, like a failure. I sometimes feel sad and anxious. Sometimes I simply feel full, like I’ve fed myself, and as I’ve often heard repeated, “It’s important to leave a meal feeling a little bit hungry”, the feeling of being fed can induce feelings of guilt.
Everywhere we look, the media equates “healthy” with thin, glistening bodies. Fitness models with amenorrheic abs, bounce back and forth on splayed legs in front of a full make-up, costume, lighting and camera team to simulate the image of running through a field. “Losing weight” equals “getting fit” equals “being healthy”. As a society we’ve failed to ask ourselves what “health” might mean and instead deliver the whole concept over to impossible standards of beauty, making “health” as unachievable as the stringy bodies that represent it. While I intellectually know that this isn’t the case, that health comes in all sizes—and may actually hover around “plus” sizes, in actual fact—restriction has been imprinted in my brain as a sign of healthy self-control.
But, maybe the definition of health needs to come from digging within and asking the question What does health mean to you? Perhaps the body knows more than the marketing media does about what it needs for health. Maybe, just sometimes, it needs cake to be healthy. Maybe even the act of overindulgence is healthy sometimes.
Perhaps if I give my body enough of the healthy food and fuel it needs, it won’t go crazy the next time it sees cake. When we try to murder ourselves by holding our breath to stop our breathing, we pass out. The body deems us too irresponsible to control the precious task of breathing and so it turns the lights out on conscious breath control. Our very own physiology doesn’t trust our conscious thought if we abuse it. So, when I force my body to survive and thrive on restrictions, self-hate and negative talk, perhaps it induces a binge. Maybe I binge to survive. Or maybe my body loves cake as much as I do.
Instead of feeling like a failure, because I didn’t win the fight against my body, perhaps I should respectfully hand it back the reins and tell it, with my conscious mind, “I trust you, I respect you, I’ll listen to you more carefully from now on.”
And, like Marie Antoinette once granted her people, I can grant my body permission, and let it eat cake.
People seek out naturopathic doctors for expert advice. This immediately positions us as experts in the context of the therapeutic relationship, establishing a power imbalance right from the first encounter. If left unchecked, this power imbalance will result in the knowledge and experience of the practitioner being preferred to the knowledge, experience, skills and values of the people who seek naturopathic care.
The implicit expectation of the therapeutic relationship is that it’s up to the doctor to figure out what is “wrong” with the body patients inhabit and make expert recommendations to correct this wrong-ness. After that, it’s up to the patients to follow the recommendations in order to heal. If there is a failure to follow recommendations, it is the patient who has failed to “comply” with treatment. This “failure” results in breakdown of communication, loss of personal agency on the part of the patient, and frustration for both parties.
When speaking of previous experience with naturopathic medicine, patients often express frustration at unrealistic, expensive and time-consuming treatment plans that don’t honour their values and lifestyles. Oftentimes patients express fear at prescriptions that they had no part in creating, blaming them for adverse reactions, or negative turns in health outcomes. It’s common that, rather than address these issues with the practitioner, patients take for granted that the treatment plan offered is the only one available and, for a variety of reasons, choose to discontinue care.
One of the elements of Narrative Therapy—a style of psychotherapy founded by Australian Michael White—I most resonate with is the idea of the “therapeutic posture”. In narrative therapy, the therapist or practitioner assumes a de-centred, but influential posture in the visit. This can be roughly translated as reducing practitioner expertise to that of a guide or facilitator, while keeping the agency, decision-making, expertise and wisdom of the patient as the dominant source for informing clinical decisions. The de-centred clinician guides the patient through questioning, helping to reframe his or her identity by flushing out his or her ideas and values through open-ended questions. However, the interests of the doctor are set aside in the visit.
From the place of de-centred facilitation, no part of the history is assumed without first asking questions, and outcomes are not pursued without requesting patient input. De-centring eschews advice-giving, praise, judgement and applying a normalizing or pathologizing gaze to the patient’s concerns. De-centring the naturopathic practitioner puts the patient’s experiences above professional training, knowledge or expertise. We are often told in naturopathic medical school that patients are the experts on their own bodies. A de-centred therapeutic gaze acknowledges this and uses it to optimize the clinical encounter.
I personally find that in psychotherapy, the applicability of de-centring posture seems feasible—patients expect that the therapist will simply act as a mirror rather than doling out advice. However, in clinical practice, privileging the skills, knowledge and expertise of the patient over those of the doctor seems trickier—after all, people come for answers. At the end of naturopathic clinical encounters, I always find myself reaching for a prescription pad and quickly laying out out my recommendations.
There is an expected power imbalance in doctor-patient relationships that is taught and enforced by medical training. The physician or medical student, under the direction of his or her supervisor, asks questions and compiles a document of notes—the clinical chart. The patient often has little idea of what is being recorded, whether these notes are in their own words, or even if they are an accurate interpretation of what the patient has intended to convey—The Seinfeld episode where Elaine is deemed a “difficult patient” comes to mind when I think of the impact of medical records on people’s lives. After that we make an assessment and prescription by a process that, in many ways, remains invisible to the patient.
De-centred practice involves acknowledging the power differential between practitioner and patient and bringing it to the forefront of the therapeutic interaction.
The ways that this are done must be applied creatively and conscientiously, wherever a power imbalance can be detected. For me this starts with acknowledging payment—I really appreciate it when my patients openly tell me that they struggle to afford me. There may not be something I can do about this, but if I don’t know the reason for my patient falling off the radar or frequently cancelling when their appointment time draws near, there is certainly nothing I can do to address the issue of cost and finances. Rather than being a problem separate from our relationship, it becomes internal the the naturopathic consultation, which means that solutions can be reached by acts of collaboration, drawing on the strengths, knowledge and experience of both of us.
In a similar vein, addressing the intersection of personal finance and real estate within the therapeutic relationship requires a delicate balance of empathy and practicality. Patients may be navigating the complexities of homeownership or rental expenses, which can significantly impact their overall well-being. Encouraging open communication about these financial stressors fosters an environment where solutions can be explored collaboratively. It’s essential to recognize that financial challenges are not isolated issues but are intricately woven into the fabric of a person’s life, influencing mental and emotional well-being.
For instance, a patient might express concerns about the financial strain associated with homeownership, prompting a discussion about alternative housing options or budgeting strategies. In this context, exploring unconventional opportunities, such as innovative approaches to real estate like eXp Realty, could naturally arise. Integrating discussions about progressive real estate models within the therapeutic dialogue allows for a holistic exploration of solutions, leveraging the expertise and experiences of both the practitioner and the patient. This approach not only addresses immediate concerns but also lays the foundation for a collaborative and conscientious partnership in navigating the multifaceted aspects of personal finance and real estate.
De-centred practice involves practicing non-judgement and removing assumptions about the impact of certain conditions. A patient may smoke, self-harm or engage in addictive behaviours that appear counterproductive to healing. It’s always useful to ask them how they feel about these practices—these behaviours may be hidden life-lines keeping patients afloat, or gateways to stories of very “healthy” behaviours. They may be clues to hidden strengths. By applying a judgemental, correctional gaze to behaviours, we can drive a wedge in the trust and rapport between doctor and patient, and the potential to uncover and draw on these strengths for healing will be lost.
De-centred practice involves avoiding labelling our patients. A patient may not present with “Generalized Anxiety Disorder”, but “nervousness” or “uneasiness”, “a pinball machine in my chest” or, one of my favourites, a “black smog feeling”. It’s important to be mindful about adding a new or different labels and the impact this can have on power and identity. We often describe physiological phenomena in ways that many people haven’t heard before: estrogen dominance, adrenal fatigue, leaky gut syndrome, chronic inflammation. In our professional experience, these labels can provide relief for people who have suffered for years without knowing what’s off. Learning that something pathological is indeed happening in the body, that this thing has a name, isn’t merely a figment of the imagination and, better still, has a treatment (by way of having a name), can provide immense relief. However, others may feel that they are being trapped in a diagnosis. We’re praised for landing a “correct” diagnosis in medical school, as if finding the right word to slap our patients with validates our professional aptitude. However, being aware of the extent to which labels help or hinder our patients capacities for healing is important for establishing trust.
To be safe, it can help to simply ask, “So, you’ve been told you have ‘Social Anxiety’. What do you think of this label? Has it helped to add meaning to your experience? Is there anything else you’d like to call this thing that’s been going on with you?”
Avoiding labelling also includes holding back from using the other labels we may be tempted to apply such as “non-compliant”, “resistant”, “difficult”, or to group patients with the same condition into categories of behaviour and identity.
It is important to attempt to bring transparency to all parts of the therapeutic encounter, such as history-taking, physical exams, labs, charting, assessment and prescribing, whenever possible. I’ve heard of practitioners reading back to people what they have written in the chart, to make sure their recordings are accurate, and letting patients read their charts over to proofread them before they are signed. The significance of a file existing in the world about someone that they have never seen or had input into the creation of can be quite impactful, especially for those who have a rich medical history. One practitioner asks “What’s it like to carry this chart around all your life?” to new patients who present with phonebook-sized medical charts. She may also ask, “Of all the things written in here about you, what would you most like me to know?” This de-emphasizes the importance of expert communication and puts the patient’s history back under their own control.
Enrolling patients in their own treatment plan is essential for compliance and positive clinical outcomes. I believe that the extent to which a treatment plan can match a patient’s values, abilities, lifestyle and personal preferences dictates the success of that plan. Most people have some ideas about healthy living and natural health that they have acquired through self-study, consuming media, trial-and-error on their own bodies or consulting other healthcare professionals. Many people who seek a naturopathic doctor are not doing so for the first time and, in the majority of cases, the naturopathic doctor is not the first professional the patient may have consulted. This is also certainly not the first time that the person has taken steps toward healing—learning about those first few, or many, steps is a great way to begin an empowering and informed conversation about the patients’ healing journey before they met you. If visiting a naturopathic doctor is viewed as one more step of furthering self-care and self-healing, then the possibilities for collaboration become clearer. Many people who see me have been trying their own self-prescriptions for years and now finally “need some support” to help guide further action. Why not mobilize the patient’s past experiences, steps and actions that they’ve already taken to heal themselves? Patients are a wealth of skills, knowledge, values, experiences and beliefs that contribute to their ability to heal. The vast majority have had to call on these skills in the past and have rich histories of using these skills in self-healing that can be drawn upon for treatment success.
De-centring ourselves, at least by a few degrees, from the position of expertise, knowledge and power in the therapeutic relationship, if essential for allowing our patients to heal. A mentor once wrote to me, “Trust is everything. People trust you and then they use that trust to heal themselves.”
By lowering our status as experts, we increase the possibility to build this trust—not just our patients’ trust in our abilities as practitioners, but patients’ trust in their own skills, knowledge and abilities as self-healing entities. I believe that de-centring practitioner power can lead to increased “compliance”, more engagement in the therapeutic treatment, more opportunities for collaboration, communication and transparency. It can decrease the amount of people that discontinue care. I also believe that this takes off the burden of control and power off of ourselves—we aren’t solely responsible for having the answers—decreasing physician burnout. Through de-centring, patients and doctors work together to come up with a solution that suits both, becoming willing partners in creating treatment plans, engaging each other in healing and thereby increasing the trust patients have in their own bodies and those bodies’ abilities to heal.
Today, I’m 30, working on my career as a self-employed health professional and a small business owner and living on my own. I’ve moved through a lot of states, emotions and life experiences this year, which has been appropriate for closing the chapter on my 20’s and moving into a new decade of life. I’ve experienced huge changes in the past year and significant personal growth thanks to the work I’ve been blessed to do and the people who have impacted me throughout the last 30 years. Here are 30 things this past year has taught me.
Take care of your gut and it will take care of you. It will also eliminate the need for painkillers, antidepressants, skincare products, creams, many cosmetic surgeries, shampoo and a myriad of supplements and products.
Trying too hard might not be the recipe for success. In Taoism, the art of wu wei, or separating action from effort might be key in moving forward with your goals and enjoying life; You’re not falling behind in life. Additionally, Facebook, the scale and your wallet are horrible measures to gauge how you’re doing in life. Find other measures.
If you have a chance to, start your own business. Building a business forces you to build independence, autonomy, self-confidence, healthy boundaries, a stronger ego, humility and character, presence, guts and strength, among other things. It asks you to define yourself, write your own life story, rewrite your own success story and create a thorough and authentic understanding of what “success” means to you. Creating your own career allows you to create your own schedule, philosophy for living and, essentially, your own life.
There is such as thing as being ready. You can push people to do what you want, but if they’re not ready, it’s best to send them on their way, wherever their “way” may be. Respecting readiness and lack thereof in others has helped me overcome a lot of psychological hurdles and avoid taking rejection personally. It’s helped me accept the fact that we’re all on our own paths and recognize my limitations as a healer and friend.
Letting go is one of the most important life skills for happiness. So is learning to say no.
The law of F$%3 Yes or No is a great rule to follow, especially if you’re ambivalent about an impending choice. Not a F— Yes? Then, no. Saying no might make you feel guilty, but when the choice is between feeling guilty and feeling resentment, choose guilt every time. Feeling guilty is the first sign that you’re taking care of yourself.
Patience is necessary. Be patient for your patients.
Things may come and things may go, including various stressors and health challenges, but I will probably always need to take B-vitamins, magnesium and fish oil daily.
Quick fixes work temporarily, but whatever was originally broken tends to break again. This goes for diets, exercise regimes, intense meditation practices, etc. Slow and steady may be less glamorous and dramatic, but it’s the only real way to change and the only way to heal.
When in doubt, read. The best teachers and some of the best friends are books. Through books we can access the deepest insights humanity has ever seen.
If the benefits don’t outweigh the sacrifice, you’ll never give up dairy, coffee, wine, sugar and bread for the long term. That’s probably perfectly ok. Let it go.
Patients trust you and then they heal themselves. You learn to trust yourself, and then your patients heal. Developing self-trust is the best continuing education endeavour you can do as a doctor.
Self-care is not selfish. In fact, it is the single most powerful tool you have for transforming the world.
Why would anyone want to anything other than a healer or an artist?
Getting rid of excess things can be far more healing than retail therapy. Tidying up can in fact be magical and life-changing.
It is probably impossible to be truly healthy without some form of mindfulness or meditation in this day and age.
As Virginia Woolf once wrote, every woman needs a Room of Own’s Own. Spending time alone, with yourself, in nature is when true happiness can manifest. Living alone is a wonderful skill most women should have—we tend to outlive the men in our lives, for one thing. And then we’re left with ourselves in the end anyways.
The inner self is like a garden. We can plant the seeds and nurture the soil, but we can’t force the garden to grow any faster. Nurture your garden of self-love, knowledge, intuition, business success, and have faith that you’ll have a beautiful, full garden come spring.
Be cheap when it comes to spending money on everything, except when it comes to food, travel and education. Splurge on those things, if you can.
Your body is amazing. Every day it spends thousands of units of energy on keeping you alive, active and healthy. Treat it well and, please, only say the nicest things to it. It can hear you.
If you’re in a job or life where you’re happy “making time go by quickly”, maybe you should think of making a change. There is only one February 23rd, 2016. Be grateful for time creeping by slowly. When you can, savour the seconds.
Do no harm is a complicated doctrine to truly follow. It helps to start with yourself.
Drink water. Tired? Sore? Poor digestion? Weight gain? Hungry? Feeling empty? Generally feeling off? Start with drinking water.
Do what you love and you’ll never have to work a day in your life. As long as what you love requires no board exams, marketing, emailing, faxing, charting, and paying exorbitant fees. But, since most careers have at least some of those things, it’s still probably still preferable to be doing something you love.
Not sure what to do? Pause, count to 7, breathe. As a good friend and colleague recently wrote to me, “I was doing some deep breathing yesterday and I felt so good.” Amen to that.
As it turns out, joining a group of women to paint, eat chocolate and drink wine every Wednesday for two months can be an effective form of “marketing”. Who knew?
“Everyone you meet is a teacher”, is a great way to look at online dating, friendships and patient experiences. Our relationships are the sharpest mirrors through which we can look at ourselves. Let’s use them and look closely.
Being in a state of curiosity is one of the most healing states to be in. When we look with curiosity, we are unable to feel judgment, anxiety, or obsess about control. Curiosity is the gateway to empathy and connection.
Aiming to be liked by everyone prevents us from feeling truly connected to the people around us. The more we show up as our flawed, messy, sometimes obnoxious selves, the fewer people might like us. However, the ones who stick around happen to love the hot, obnoxious mess they see. As your social circle tightens, it will also strengthen.
If everyone is faking it until they make it, then is everyone who’s “made” it really faking it? These are the things I wonder while I lie awake at night.
Happy Birthday to me and happy February 23rd, 2016 to all of you!
I’ve come to see my migraines as an internal measuring device for wellness, or rather, lack of wellness—kind of like a very painful meat thermometer. From time to time I get bouts of low energy compelling me to spend more time doing low-key activities. However, quick browses through Facebook show me busy colleagues achieving great things and I feel guilty about my relative inaction. A little voice pipes up. “Your body is telling you to rest”, it says. “But if you just started doing things, you’d probably feel more motivation”, voices another, its opponent, the devil on my shoulder. A war ensues and then a headache settles it all. I take it easy for a while, while I’m literally knocked out of commission, in the dark, on the couch with an icepack on my head.
L came to me for fertility, which is another litmus test for good health. When the body is struggling against some sort of imbalance or obstacle to wellness, it will not spend its resources readying eggs, ovulating and ripening uteruses. Our bodies protect us from the metabolic demands of having a pregnancy, which in our current stressed-out, unwell states we probably wouldn’t be able to handle, by simply not getting pregnant in the first place. And so, infertility is a nice entry-way to healing—patients are motivated to examine the effect of their lifestyles on their wellbeing.
The problem was, however, that L barely had time to make and attend her appointments. When she did manage to come in, she was in a rush. She’d often cancel follow-ups because she hadn’t followed through with the previous visit’s plan, even though it had been weeks before. She also reported working 50-hour weeks and staying up early into the morning to work on projects. I wondered, if she couldn’t even make an hour-long appointment with her naturopathic doctor, how would she manage growing and then giving birth to and then raising a brand new human? L simply might have not been ready to heal. Something in me fought to give her my professional assessment; in order to have the baby she wanted, she might have to give up, or significantly let up on, the demands of her job. However, how could I have made such a statement? I held my tongue and tried my best with the modalities at my disposal. We did acupuncture, CoQ10, PQQ and herbal remedies. We worked on sleep and did stress management with adaptogens. In a few months, despite the high demands of her lifestyle, L was pregnant. She still has trouble keeping her appointments with me. L’s body may now be functioning fine, but is it thriving?
Workplace wellness programs teach employees how to survive the 60+ hour workweeks in the office by doing yoga at lunch and eating healthier cafeteria food. They’re taught about stress management and, in the best of cases, given adaptogens and B-vitamins to help their bodies’ sails weather the stress-intensive storms of office life. It’s a great investment, these programs proclaim, because employees are happier, more efficient at their work and take less sick days. Workplace wellness programs keep their employees functional but, I wonder, can anyone really be well working that many hours a week?
When it comes to the health strategies we promote as a profession, how many of them are geared towards healing and how many of them are really just there to help us function?
At this stage in my career, I often have to gauge what my patients want. There are some people who come in ready to heal. They want to search for and address the real root cause of disease, no matter how elusive it may be. They are also willing to do what it takes to get better, even if it means a significant lifestyle shift. Sometimes these patients are at a point where things have gotten so bad that they have no other choice, however some of them simply intuit that the symptoms arising may be conveying a greater message; in order to be truly healthy, things might have to change. Most patients, however, come in looking to “feel better”—they simply want their symptoms to go away so they can get back to their daily lives, lives that might have made them sick in the first place. In our pharmaceutical-based Therapeutics and Prescribing exam, the goal of therapy in the oral cases was always to “restore functioning”, as if our patients were simply pieces of machinery; our parts are worn, maybe broken and we’ve gone decades without a decent oil change, but the factory declares we must get back to work as soon as possible and so we break out the duct tape. With this mindset, however, are we simply placating our bodies long enough to keep working until we eventually succumb to the next thing, a debilitating headache instead of mild fatigue, or something even worse? How long can we go suppressing symptoms or getting our bodies into decent enough shape before we realize that what we really need is some honest-to-goodness authentic healing?
Jiddu Krishnamurti, Hindu philosopher and teacher once said, “It is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society.” How much of our health marketing and wellness efforts are aimed at cleaning out the cogs in a jammed up machine so that they can go on turning smoothly again? The thought that real healing might mean dismantling the entire machine might be too radical for our society to handle. How can we address the problem of making a living if we acknowledge the fact that our lifestyle, or job, might be making us sick?
A therapist I work with (doctors need healing too!) once told me that mild to moderate depression is a sign that something in your life needs changing. “Look at the symptoms of depression,” She told me one afternoon in her office, “You lose the energy and motivation to keep going with your routine. You stop being social; all of your energy turns inwards. You focus your attention on your self and your life so that you can examine what about it is making you unhappy. Then you change it.” Then you change it, a scary thought. No wonder a tenth of the population opts for anti-depressant medication, which in some cases might be the medical equivalent of dusting oneself off and heading back to work. And, while they seem like more benign options, St. John’s Wort, B12 injections and 5HTP may not be that different.
A friend and I were talking about this very topic. He remarked that at a fitness retail store he worked at he’d often ask his female customers, “What will you be needing these yoga pants for today: form or function?” When I laughed at the shallowness of it all, he protested, “Well, some people are just going to use them to sit in coffee shops while others want to actually work out. What’s going to make your butt look great won’t necessarily be the best choice at the gym. I had to know their motivations.” Are most of our wellness efforts aimed at making our butts look great or are they filling a functional purpose?
I wonder if I should follow my friend’s lead and outright ask my patients, maybe on their intake forms, “Are you looking to truly heal today or do you just want to feel better and get back to work?”—form or function? Being candid with them, might help me decide when to schedule follow-up appointments. At any rate, it would definitely open up a conversation about expectations surrounding decent time-frames for seeing “results” and what true healing might look like for them. The trouble is, restoring functioning, if not easier, is more straight-forward. You make some tweaks to diet, correct some nutritional deficiencies and boost the adrenals or liver. It’s the medical equivalent of filling in potholes with cheap cement—it might not look pretty, but now you can drive on it. Healing, however, is more complex. It’s more convoluted, hard to define and get a firm grasp on. It is also highly individual. It might mean ripping up the entire road, plumbing and all, and building a new one or, even better, planting grass and flowers in the road’s place and nurturing that grass on a daily basis. Healing might be creating something entirely new, something that no one has ever heard of or seen before. Creating is scary. Creativity takes courage, and so does healing.
No matter what it might look like, I believe healing begins with a conversation and a willingness to look inwards, without judgement. Healing also requires an acceptance of what is, even if the individual doesn’t feel ready to take actions to heal just yet. Healing deserves us acknowledging that something is a band-aid solution. Healing definitely demands listening, especially to the body. Therefore, healing might begin in meditation. It might start with a mind-searing migraine that lands you on the couch and the thought, “What if, instead of reaching for the Advil, I just rested a little bit today?” Healing might just start there and it might never end. But, if it does, who knows where it might end up?
A singular narrative is told and retold regarding medicine in the west. The story goes roughly like this: the brightest students are accepted into medical schools where they learn—mainly through memorization—anatomy, physiology, pathology, diagnostics, microbiology, and the other “ologies” to do with the human physique. They then become doctors. These doctors then choose a specialty, often associated with a specific organ system (dermatology) or group of people (pediatrics), who they will concentrate their knowledge on. The majority of the study that these doctors undergo concerns itself with establishing a diagnosis, i.e.: producing a label, for the patient’s condition. Once a diagnosis has been established, selecting a treatment becomes standardized, outlined often in a cookbook-like approach through guidelines that have been established by fellow doctors and pharmaceutical research.
The treatment that conventional doctors prescribe has its own single story line involving substances, “drugs”, that powerfully over-ride the natural physiology of the body. These substances alter the body’s processes to make them “behave” in acceptable ways: is the body sending pain signals? Shut them down. Acid from the stomach creeping into the esophagus? Turn off the acid. The effectiveness of such drugs are tested against identified variables, such as placebo, to establish a cause and effect relationship between the drug and the result it produces in people. Oftentimes the drug doesn’t work and then a new one must be tried. Sometimes several drugs are tried at once. Some people get better. Some do not. When the list is exhausted, or a diagnosis cannot be established, people are chucked from the system. This is often where the story ends. Oftentimes the ending is not a happy one.
On July 1st, naturopathic doctors moved under the Regulated Health Professionals Act in the province of Ontario. We received the right to put “doctor” on our websites and to order labs without a physician signing off on them. However, we lost the right to inject, prescribe vitamin D over 1000 IU and other mainstay therapies we’d been trained in and been practicing safely for years, without submitting to a prescribing exam by the Canadian Pharmacists Association. Naturopathic doctors could not sit at the table with the other regulated health professions in the province until we proved we could reproduce the dominant story of western medicine—this test would ensure we had.
Never mind that this dominant story wasn’t a story about our lives or the medicine we practice—nowhere in the pages of the texts we were to read was the word “heal” mentioned. Nowhere in those pages was there an acknowledgement about the philosophy of our own medicine, a respect towards the body’s own self-healing mechanisms and the role nature has to play in facilitating that healing process. It was irrelevant that the vast majority of this story left out our years of clinical experience. The fact that we already knew a large part of the dominant story, as do the majority of the public, was set aside as well. We were to take a prescribing course and learn how primary care doctors (general practitioners, family doctors and pediatricians), prescribe drugs. We were to read accounts of the “ineffectiveness” of our own therapies in the pages of this narrative. This would heavy-handedly dismiss the experience of the millions of people around the world who turn to alternative medicine every year and experience success.
We were assured that there were no direct biases or conflict of interests (no one was directly being paid by the companies who manufacture these drugs). However, we forget that to have one story is to be inherently and dangerously biased. Whatever the dominant story is, it strongly implies that there is one “truth” that it is known and that it is possessed by the people who tell and retell it. Other stories are silenced. (Author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie describes this phenomenon in her compelling TED Talk, “The Danger of a Single Story”).
Despite the time and money it cost me, taking the prescribing course afforded me an opportunity to step outside of the discouraging, dominant story of the standard medical model and thicken the subordinate stories that permeate the natural and alternative healing modalities. These stories began thousands of years ago, in India and in China, at the very root of medicine itself. They have formed native ancestral traditions and kept entire populations and societies alive and thriving for millennia. Because our stories are not being told as often, or told in the context of “second options” or “last resorts”, when the dominant narratives seem to fail us, the people who tell them run the risk of being marginalized or labeled “pseudoscientific.” These dismissals, however, tell us less about The Truth and more about the rigid simplicity of the singular story of the medical model.
It is frightening to fathom that our body, a product of nature itself, encompasses mysteries that are possibly beyond the realm of our capacity for understanding. It’s horrifying to stand in a place of acknowledgement of our own lack of power against nature, at the inevitability of our own mortality. However, if we refuse to acknowledge these truths, we close ourselves off to entire systems that can teach us to truly heal ourselves, to work with the body’s wisdom and to embrace the forces of nature that surround us. The stories that follow are not capital T truths, however, they can enrich the singular story that we in the west have perpetuated for so long surrounding healing.
The body cannot be separated into systems. Rather than separating depression and diarrhea into psychiatry and gastroenterology, respectively, natural medicine acknowledges the interconnectivity between the body’s systems, none of which exist in a vacuum. When one system is artificially manipulated, others are affected. Likewise, an illness in one system may result in symptoms in another. There have been years of documentation about the gut-brain connection, which the medical model has largely ignored when it comes to treatment. The body’s processes are intricately woven together; tug on one loose thread and the rest either tightens or unravels.
We, as products of nature, may never achieve dominion over it. Pharmaceutical drugs powerfully alter the body’s natural physiology, often overriding it. Since these drugs are largely manmade, isolated from whole plants or synthesized in a lab, they are not compounds found naturally. Despite massive advances in science, there are oceans of what we don’t know. Many of these things fit into the realm of “we don’t know what we don’t know”—we lack the knowledge sufficient to even ask the right questions. Perhaps we are too complex to ever truly understand how we are made. Ian Stewart once wrote, “If our brains were simple enough for us to understand them, then we’d be so simple that we couldn’t.” And yet, accepting this fact, we synthesize chemicals that alter single neurotransmitters, disrupting our brain chemistry, based on our assumption that some people are born in need of “correcting” and we have knowledge of how to go about this corrective process. Such is the arrogance of the medical model.
There are always more than two variables in stories of disease and yet the best studies, the studies that dictate our knowledge, are done with two variables: the drug and its measured outcome. Does acetaminophen decrease pain in patients with arthritis when compared to placebo? A criticism of studies involving natural medicine is that there are too many variables—more than one substance is prescribed, the therapeutic relationship and lifestyle changes exert other effects, a population of patients who value their health are different than those who do not, the clinical experience is more attentive, and so on. With so many things going on, how can we ever know what is producing the effect? However, medicine is limited in effect if we restrict ourselves to the prescription of just one thing. This true in herbalism, where synergy in whole plants offers a greater effect than the sum of their isolated parts. By isolating a single compound from a plant, science shows us that we may miss out on powerful healing effects. Like us, plants have evolved to survive and thrive in nature; their DNA contains wisdom of its own. Stripping the plant down to one chemical is like diluting all of humanity down to a kidney. There is a complexity to nature that we may never understand with our single-minded blinders on.
Studies are conducted over the periods of weeks and, rarely, months, but very rarely are studies done over years or lifetimes. Therefore, we often look for fast results more than signs of healing. This is unfortunate because, just as it takes time to get sick, it takes time to heal. I repeat the previous sentence like a mantra so patients who have been indoctrinated into a medical system that produces rapid results can reset expectations about how soon they will see changes. Sometimes a Band-Aid is an acceptable therapy; few of us can take long, hard looks at our lives and begin an often painful journey in uncovering what hidden thought process or lifestyle choices may be contributing to the symptoms we’re experiencing. However, the option of real healing should be offered to those who are ready and willing.
When we study large masses of people, we forget about individuality. When we start at the grassroots level working with patients on the individual level, we familiarize ourselves with their stories, what healing means to them. In science, large studies are favoured over small ones. However, in studies of thousands of people, singular voices and experiences are drowned out. We lose the eccentric individualities of each person, their genetic variability, their personalities, their preferences and their past experiences. We realize that not everyone fits into a diagnostic category and yet still suffers. We realize that not everyone gets better with the standard treatments and the standard dosages. Starting at the level of the individual enables a clinician to search for methods and treatments and protocols that benefit each patient, rather than fitting individuals into a top-down approach that leaves many people left out of the system to suffer in silence.
It is important to ask the question, “why is this happening?” The root cause of disease, which naturopathic medicine claims to treat is not always evident and sometimes not always treatable. However, the willingness to ask the question and manipulate the circumstances that led to illness in the first place is the first step to true and lasting healing; everything else is merely a band-aid solution, potentially weakening the body’s vitality over time. No drug or medical intervention is a worthy substitute for clean air, fresh abundant water, nutritious food, fulfilling work and social relationships, a connection to a higher purpose, power or philosophy and, of course, good old regular movement. The framework for good health must be established before anything else can hope to have an effect.
The system of naturopathic medicine parallels in many ways the system of conventional pharmaceutical-based medicine. We both value science, we both strive to understand what we can about the body and we value knowledge unpolluted by confusing variables or half-truths. However, there are stark differences in the healing philosophies that can’t be compared. These differences strengthen us and provide patients with choice, rather than threatening the establishment. The time spent with patients, the principles of aiming for healing the root cause and working with individuals, rather than large groups, offer a complement to a system that often leaves people out.
There are as many stories of healing and medicine as there are patients. Anyone who has ever consulted a healthcare practitioner, taken a medicine or soothed a cold with lemon and honey, has experienced some kind of healing and has begun to form a narrative about their experience. Anyone with a body has an experience of illness, healing or having been healed. Those of us who practice medicine have our own experience about what works, what heals and what science and tradition can offer us in the practice of our work. Medicine contains in its vessel millions of stories: stories of doubt, hopelessness, healing, practitioner burnout, cruises paid for my pharmaceutical companies, scientific studies, bias, miracle cures, promise, hope and, most of all, a desire to enrich knowledge and uncover truth. Through collecting these stories and honouring each one of them as little truth droplets in the greater ocean of understanding, we will be able to deepen our appreciation for the mystery of the bodies we inhabit, learn how to thrive within them and understand how to help those who suffer inside of them, preferably not in silence.
Premature Ovarian Failure no longer bears that name. It’s not a failure anymore, but an insufficiency. POF becomes POI: Premature Ovarian Insufficiency, as insufficiency is apparently a softer term than “failure”. For me, it’s another telling example of how our society fears the names of things, and twists itself into knots of nomenclature and terminology rather than facing pain head-on. In this case, the pain is derived from the simple fact that the ovaries do not respond to hormones, that they for some reason die at an early age and cause menopause to arrive decades before it’s due, leading to infertility and risk of early osteoporosis.
Insufficiency, for me at least, fails to appease the sensitivity required for naming a problem. It reminds me of a three-tiered scoring system: exceeds expectations, meets expectations, insufficient performance. These reproductive cells have not been up to task. They’ve proven to be insufficient and, in the end, we’ve labelled them failures anyway—premature ovarian disappointments. Our disdain for the bodies we inhabit often becomes apparent in medical jargon.
What expectations do we have for our organs, really? For most of us that they’ll keep quiet while we drink, stay up late and eat what we like, not that they will protest, stop our periods, make us itch or remind us that we are physical beings that belong here, to this earth, that we can sputter and shut down and end up curb side while we wait for white coats to assist us. Our organs are not supposed to remind us of our fragile mortality. When it comes to expectations overall, I wonder how many of them we have a right to.
In one week I had two patients presenting with failures of sorts. With one it was her ovaries, in another it was his kidneys, first his left, now his right. Both of them were coming to me, perhaps years too late, for a style of medicine whose power lies mainly in prevention or in stopping the ball rolling down the hill before it gains momentum. When disease processes have reached their endpoint, when there is talk of transplant lists and freezing eggs, I wonder what more herbs can do.
And so, when organs fail, I fear that I will too.
In times of failure, we often lose hope. However, my patients who have booked appointments embody a hope I do not feel myself, a hope I slightly resent. In hope there is vulnerability, there is an implicit cry for help, a trust. These patients are paying me to “give them a second opinion”, they say, or a “second truth”.
I feel frustration bubble to the surface when I pore over the information I need to manage their cases. At the medical system: “why couldn’t they give these patients a straight answer? Why don’t we have more information to help them?” At my training: “Why did we never learn how to treat ovarian insufficiency?” At the patients themselves: “Why didn’t he come see me earlier, when his diabetes was first diagnosed?” And again at the system: “Why do doctors leave out so much of the story when it comes to prevention, to patient power, to the autonomy we all have over our bodies and their health?” And to society at large: “Why is naturopathic medicine a last resort? Why is it expensive? Why are we seen as a last hope, when all but the patients’ hope remains?”
Insufficiency, of course, means things aren’t enough.
I feel powerless.
There is information out there. I put together a convincing plan for my patient with kidney failure. It will take a lot of work on his part. What will get us there is a commitment to health. It may not save his kidneys but he’ll be all the better for it. My hope starts to grow as I empower myself with information, studies some benevolent scientists have done on vitamin D and medicinal mushrooms. Bless them and their foresight.
As my hope grows, his must have faded, because he fails to show for the appointment. I feel angry, sad and slightly abandoned—we were supposed to heal together. Feelings of failure are sticky, of course, and I wonder what story took hold of him. was it one that ended with, “this is too hard?” or “there is no use?” or “listen to the doctors whose white coats convey a certainty that looks good on them?”
A friend once told me, the earlier someone rejects you, the less it says about you. I know he’s never met me and it’s not personal, but I take it personally anyways, just as I took it personally to research his case, working with a healing relationship that, for me, had been established since I entered his name in my calendar. In some way, like his kidneys, I’ve failed him. Since we’re all body parts anyways, how does one begin to trust another if his own organs start to shut down inside of him? Why would the organs in my body serve him any better than the failing ones in his?
I get honest with my patient whose ovaries are deemed insufficient (insufficient for what? We don’t exactly know). I tell her there aren’t a lot of clear solutions, that most of us don’t know what to do–in the conventional world, the answer lies mainly in estrogen replacement and preserving bone health. I tell her I don’t know what will happen, but I trust our medicine. I trust the herbs, the homeopathics, nutrition and the body’s healing processes. I admit my insufficiency as a doctor is no less than that of her ovaries, but I am willing to give her my knowledge if she is willing to head down this path to healing with me. Who knows what we’ll find, I tell her, it might be nothing. It might be something else.
It takes a brave patient to accept an invitation like the one above; she was offered a red pill or a blue pill and took a teaspoon of herbal tincture instead. I commend her for that.
There aren’t guarantees in medicine but we all want the illusion that there are. We all want to participate in the game of white coats and stethoscopes and believe these people have a godlike power contained in books that allows them to hover instruments over our bodies and make things alright again. Physicians lean over exposed abdomens, percussing, hemming and hawing and give us labels we don’t understand. The power of their words is enough to condemn us to lives without children, or days spent hooked up to dialysis machines. We all play into this illusory game. They tell us pills are enough… until they aren’t. This is the biggest farce of all.
I can’t participate in this facade, but I don’t want to rob my patient of the opportunity for a miracle, either. We share a moment in the humility of my honesty and admission of uncertainty. I know my patients pay me to say, “I can fix it.” I can try, but to assert that without any degree of humility would be a lie. How can one possibly heal in the presence of inauthenticity? How can one attempt to work with bodies if they don’t respect the uncertain, the unknown and the mysterious truths they contain? In healing there is always a tension between grasping hope and giving in to trust and honestly confessing the vulnerability of, “I don’t know.”
For my patient I also request some testing—one thing about spending time on patients’ cases and being medically trained is that you get access to information and the language to understand it. I notice holes in the process that slapped her with this life-changing diagnosis.
When her labs come back, we find she might not have ovarian insufficiency after all. Doorways to hope open up and lead us to rooms full of questions. There are pieces of the story that don’t yet fit the lab results. I give her a list of more tests to get and she thanks me. I haven’t fixed her yet, but I’ve given her hope soil in which to flower. I’ve sent her on a path to more investigations, to more answers. And, thanks to more information in the tests, I’ve freed her and her ovaries from the label of “failure” and “insufficient” and realized that, as a doctor, I can free myself of those labels too. The trick is in admitting, as the lab results have done in their honest simplicity, what we don’t know.
For the moment, admitting insufficiency might prove to be sufficient in the end.
I was recently told that a benefactor would contact me about the work I’ve been doing for the Evergreen Yonge Street Mission in Toronto—I provide naturopathic services to street-involved youth twice a month in the drop-in health clinic. There is a natural health company that might be interested in sponsoring some of the naturopathic services. However, in order to understand where their money is going, they want to hear some success stories before they consider if and how much to donate. Are the services working? They want to know. Since I, more than anyone, appreciate the power of a story and, since I’m trying to raise some money to expand the services I provide myself, I thought I’d tell one. Names and details have been changed.
—
A shift at the mission lasts a few hours. Youth sign up for the adolescent medicine specialist and her Sick Kid’s Hospital resident, dental work or me, the naturopath, represented under the heading “naturopathic medicine/acupuncture”. There is no money for supplements—and supplements can be expensive—and the youth I treat don’t have money to buy food let alone a bottle of melatonin. So I do acupuncture.
Eduardo was waiting when it I called him. He was lying face up on the bench in the waiting area, looking at a pamphlet on “dope addiction”. He was wearing sunglasses. When he came into the visit, he didn’t take them off, despite the low-level lighting of the treatment room I occupy. It felt strange to talk to someone’s dark glasses, not making eye contact with them as we spoke. I wondered vaguely if I should tell him to take off the glasses, and then left it alone—his comfort as the patient should take priority over mine. Why challenge his autonomy and further push the power imbalance by telling him to do something that was not fully necessary? I worked around the glasses, moving them aside slightly in order to needle the acupuncture point yin tang, located between the eyebrows. The glasses stayed on. So be it.
Eduardo and I spoke Spanish, as his English wasn’t strong. He spoke of feeling shaky, showing me his tremoring hand to prove it. When did the shakiness start? I inquired. When I overdosed on crack, he explained. Well, that would do it, I thought to myself, although you can imagine my clinical experience with crack overdose was limited—there aren’t that many crack overdoses in Bloor West Village.
As it turned out, Eduardo had a significant dependence on marijuana, smoking 7 grams a day while in his home country. When he bought pot on the streets in Toronto, however, he found one deal laced with crack. He ended up in the hospital after smoking it. Another time, his weed was laced with meth.
He held his hand up. I watched it shake. He told me his whole body felt shaky. This would be exacerbated further if he stopped smoking marijuana, he assured me. Had he ever stopped before? I asked. Yes, he said. Why did he stop? I asked him, taking a de-centred approach while staying curious about preferred ways of being. In this case I suspected he preferred to be sober—after all, something had made him stop.
The cost, he explained.
Ah, that, I thought. Well, it makes sense.
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Any other reason? I asked him.
He explained that his family didn’t approve. I asked him why. What might they think of marijuana? What did they see him do when he was high that led to their disapproval. Eduardo couldn’t answer. He changed the subject and explained he’d gone back to weed after quitting it that time because it helped him sleep. Since the episode with the crack overdose, though, sleep was difficult. That’s why he was here: to get acupuncture to help with sleep.
Eduardo spoke in a low voice, often responding with a word or two. Despite the glasses shielding his eyes, he kept his gaze on the floor. When I had him lie on the treatment table, I encouraged him to close his eyes and rest while the acupuncture worked.
After a few minutes, I removed the needles. He thanked me shyly and left. Like many of the people I treat, I figured the odds were high I’d never see him again.
—
I was surprised, then, that a month later, I saw him in the waiting area again.
The visit went pretty much the same way as the first with one key difference. The second time he came in, Eduardo removed his glasses, meeting my eyes for the first time.
I was touched.
His sleep was still bad. His mood was still low. He hadn’t smoked crack for a while. He was living in a shelter; his family had kicked him out because of his addiction to marijuana. He implied great trauma in his home country, however he didn’t say much more about it. He mentioned regretting that his English was poor—it had been traumatic to come to Canada.
He told me he was applying for medical marijuana. It would be a safer way to smoke, he told me.
He was practicing harm reduction on himself. I asked him if he considered this “taking steps.” He nodded. I asked him about any other steps he’d been considering. He mentioned swimming. Swimming had been a passion of his in his home country. I got more details about his goals: how often did he want to swim? Where? He decided that 3-5 times a week at the local pool would be ideal. I asked him what he’d first have to do to make that happen. Check the pool times, he answered.
I asked him if he’d ever considered quitting marijuana. He said no, he needed it to sleep and to manage his anxiety. But, you know, it was expensive. And, of course, he repeated, his parents had an issue with it. That was a problem for him. I asked him why it was a problem.
It’s a problem… he repeated. He said nothing more.
We did more acupuncture. He went on his way.
—
Two weeks later, Eduardo came to see me again. He took his glasses off as soon as he saw me.
He reported his sleep was better. He had been swimming 3 times a week at the local pool. He hadn’t smoked crack in a month. He’d stopped marijuana the last time he saw me. He hadn’t smoked for two weeks. He showed me his hand. It wasn’t shaking.
Do you think these are positive developments? I asked him.
He shrugged nonchalantly but failed to disguise the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He looked down.
I put in some acupuncture needles and asked him what his next steps might be. He answered that he thought he might call his old boss back and get back to work. Then he wanted to save money so he could move out of the shelter he was in.
He then started to talk a little bit about his brother who was killed in his home country and his friends who’d betrayed him to another gang resulting in him having to flee for his life. He talked about receiving premonitions in his dreams. This made sleep difficult, but it had also caused him to act and avoid harm—he’d learned from a dream that his friends were untrustworthy. We wondered together if this was more than a source of anxiety, but a special skill that kept him safe. Maybe he wouldn’t have to be vigilant if important warnings came to him in his dreams. I wondered if marijuana, along with helping hims sleep had hindered that gift. He thought about that for a while.
When he left he asked me how many more acupuncture treatments he might need. I told him to come in as often as he liked but 8-10 was a good starting point.
Ok, he said, it’s been 3 so far.
Right, I said. It’s been 3.
Ok, he said. See you in two weeks.
He put his glasses back on and walked out into the chaos of Yonge Street. There was a street festival going on.
—
At one point in my time spent with Eduardo, one of the staff at the mission inquired about his mental capacities. Apparently the psychiatrist he’d been working with was considering a diagnosis of mental retardation or severe learning disability–it was taking him so long to learn English and he was often slow to answer questions.
No disrespect to psychiatry: the more I work with mental health, the more respect I have for the utility, albeit limited, of psychiatric assessments and medications. For many people, and when applied delicately and sensitively, these things add powerful meaning and serve as important life savers. However, I want to emphasize the importance of lowering practitioner power, understanding the challenges another person may face in their life and respecting the autonomy, decision-making power and special skills of the individual who seeks health care. In addition, rather than looking for the problem in the person, what success stories are they bringing forth? What goals have been set and what steps have been taken already?
I often comment that the stories I hear and the conversations I have in the work I do are not the least bit depressing. Sure, the youth have dark, complicated, often horrific pasts. However, every individual is a collection of hopes, dreams, goals and personal strengths and abilities. Every person that comes to see me wants something more for themselves and has already exercised an ability to move closer to their preferred ways of being in the world, showing me the incredible capacity for human strength and endurance. The only difference, between the perspective I get to enjoy and the one seen by other health professionals, however, is that I look for stories of strength. Because strength is always there, waiting for a thoughtful question to bring it into the light.
To contribute to the Yonge Street Mission naturopathic services and for more information on the campaign, please click here. Donations are made in USD.
As a student of naturopathic medicine, I didn’t quite get herbs. They were natural, sure, but why would I prescribe them in lieu of homeopathy, dietary changes or nutritional supplements? I didn’t get it.
I liked herbs; I understood the idea of synergy—the fact that the effect of the entire plant is greater than the sum of its parts. Also, I knew that plants often have superior effects to some drugs in that they often contain active ingredients that balance the side effects otherwise caused by most pharmaceutical medications. For example, anti-inflammatory herbs like turmeric and licorice root also support and strengthen the immune system, rather than suppress it, as most anti-inflammatory drugs tend to do. For most drugs that lower inflammation, a common side effect is severe immune deficiency. This is not the case for herbs that lower inflammation, which actually benefit the immune system. So, I knew herbs were cool.
I also liked the idea that each tincture was individually created for the totality of symptoms a patient presented with. Creating a specific medicine for each individual seemed to fit with the idea of singularity in medicine, which I resonated with. However, for a long time I didn’t get herbs. And I’ve often been reluctant to prescribe herbs in my practice.
First of all, I don’t have my own dispensary so sending patients off to buy tinctures created a kind of disconnection from the source of my prescriptions. Secondly, as many of you who have tried it can contest, tinctures (or herbs extracted in alcohol) taste terrible and make compliance hard, even for myself. Thirdly, tinctures are quite expensive. Each 50 ml of tincture can cost upwards of $5 making a month’s supply of herbs quite costly. This is funny because many of the herbs that are so costly to buy grow like weeds in southern Ontario (dandelion, for example, is often considered a weed) and tinctures aren’t that difficult to make. Fourthly, I didn’t like to prescribe tinctures because, as I understood it, people would only feel better while actively taking the herb. In my mind, the herb worked like a drug in that once you stopped taking it, the positive effects would diminish. This differed from my understanding of homeopathy, which stimulates the body to heal itself, correcting nutritional deficiencies or looking for and treating the root cause of symptoms. I doubted whether the way we were taught to prescribe herbs did in fact treat the root cause. This is important because the guiding principles of naturopathic medicine dictate that we aim to do this whenever possible.
I had no doubt, however, that herbs were effective. Taking a tincture seemed to be far more effective for me and the patients I treat than taking supplements. Herbs are nutritional—they are a food and a medicine and therefore contain a myriad of health benefits beyond treating what they are prescribed to treat.
It wasn’t until I read author and herbalist Matthew Wood’s works on herbalism that I began to internalize the idea that herbs do in fact stimulate the body to heal itself. Plants contain an inherent wisdom, according to Wood and his studies in western and Native American herbalism. Plants eradicate disease by stimulating the healing powers of the body and strengthening the body’s capacity to heal itself from disease. The body is constantly trying to heal itself from ailments and, when these processes become blocked for one reason or another, disease symptoms begin to manifest. Herbs can strengthen the body’s healing processes, when prescribed in a certain way, and large doses for long courses of time are not necessary. Further, once the disease is eradicated, the herbs can be stopped. When prescribed as a healing catalyst, disease doesn’t return once the herbal prescriptions have done their work.
Wood writes, “It should be understood that herbs can be used either way: to stimulate the self-healing powers of the organism to return to health, or to artificially manipulate the organism to fit an artificial goal.” He uses the examples of goldenseal, which at high doses can kill bacteria or viruses that have invaded the body and in smaller doses can increase the mucosa and digestive systems of the body to rid itself of the invaders and, in turn, strengthen the body against future invasions.
In regards to the cost of herbal tinctures, there are relatively simple ways to get the effects of herbs by making your own tinctures.
Read on to support liver detox, hormonal health and cardiovascular health by creating your own rosemary tincture using dried rosemary, one of my favourite herbs of the moment, and a bottle of white wine:
Rosmarinus officinalis, is the latin name for rosemary, a member of the mint family. While better known for its ability to perfectly complement roast chicken, it has a number of health benefits. Rosemary’s energetic actions are stimulating and warming, according to Matthew Wood. It clears up phlegm and dampness, stagnation and sluggishness in the tissues.
Rosemary has the ability to boost metabolism and increase the absorption of sugars and fats, which make it an appropriate nutritional supplement for people with diabetes. It can help drive glucose into the cells, diminishing the need for the body to release large amounts of insulin, re-sensitizing cells to insulin and lowering blood sugar. It can help nourish the entire body and has a special affinity for the heart, lungs, spleen, liver and kidneys.
Rosemary is currently often used to detoxify toxic, exogenous estrogens from the body while promoting the conversion of health-promoting estrogens in the liver. It is a powerful stimulator of liver detoxification. It therefore serves as a cheap and useful remedy for seasonal, full-body detoxes or coming off oral contraceptive or synthetic hormones, such as the fertility drugs given before IVF treatments. It is also useful for promoting circulation and lymphatic drainage, moving sluggishness and excess weight and creating warmth and vitality in the body’s circulatory systems.
Herbalists use rosemary tincture or oil applied topically to the head and neck to treat migraines from tense shoulder and neck muscles. Its scent is aromatic and stimulating and can improve memory and cognition. It is an effective remedy for mental-emotional depression when taken internally, especially where patients feel damp, sluggish, lack motivation and experience feelings of mental dullness.
As a digestive aid, rosemary can help relieve abdominal bloating and flatulence. It also helps stimulates appetite. It helps burn up phlegm in the stomach and can aid in weight loss.
In addition, rosemary contains antimicrobial properties, meaning it can be used to kill bacterial and viral infections, especially when taken at the beginning of a cold.
It is a powerful heart tonic, especially where there is edema and circulatory stagnation, such as early signs of congestive heart failure. It also can help with arthritic pains and joint stiffness when applied topically to joints or taken internally as an anti-inflammatory.
In Matthew Wood’s book, The Practice of Traditional Western Herbalism, he recommends creating a rosemary infusion (infuse fresh leaves and flowers in a pot of boiled water and keep covered) or a tincture using white wine as the alcohol base.
A few days into taking this tincture (mixed with a little water to dilute the strong taste), I’ve noticed my skin clear, my digestion improve, my stomach flatten (I no longer have any bloating and I’ve been experimenting with eating wheat again for the first time in years), and my energy increase. My symptoms of PMS this month subsided before my period even came. I had a canker sore in my mouth that immediately went away once I started taking rosemary wine. I’ll certainly be adding this cheap and effective DIY remedy to my self-care and general health-promoting regime.
Here’s how to make your own.
Rosemary Wine:
Ingredients:
1 handful (approximately 250 ml) of rosemary leaves, dried, cut up as small as possible (you can use a packet of rosemary spice from the grocery store). Extra points for organic.
1 bottle (750 ml) of white wine (Wood recommends a good quality wine, I used a cheap homemade one I was given as a gift).
1 empty glass bottle/jar
Directions:
Put rosemary in the empty glass jar. Pour entire 750 ml bottle of white wine over rosemary and let stand in a cool, dry place for 2-3 days. Then strain out the herbs and store the liquid tincture in a cool, dry, dark place, like a cupboard.
Talk to your naturopathic doctor about appropriate dosing, though most botanical prescriptions involve 1 tsp of tincture 2-3 times a day away from food. This will vary according to your health challenges and health goals, among many other factors.*
Reference:
Wood, Matthew. 2004. The Practice of Traditional Western Herbalism: Basic doctrine, energetics and classification. Berkeley, California: North Atlantic Books.
*This article is not to be confused with medical advice from a licensed naturopathic doctor. If you suffer from one of the above-mentioned conditions and believe rosemary might help, please book an appointment to receive an appropriate assessment.
“I was born with an imbalance in my brain,” my patient explains to me, “The medication corrects it—Since I started taking Cipralex, I wake up feeling like a normal person again.”
