MS: A Healing Experience

By Liz Attewell

This true story concerns the ever unfolding road to freedom and the strange events that occur along the way. It’s a story about how one person, Liz Attewell who with the help of homeopathy overcame her version of multiple sclerosis and has lived the past twenty years symptom free.

Starting at childhood, it follows Liz through the complexities of growing up, and the affect that developing symptoms had on her way of life.

“my symptoms grew steadily worse; writing was becoming increasingly difficult due to an inability to control my hands properly”

It tells of the emotional rollercoaster she felt at discovering she had MS, and of her quest to learn as much as she could about it.

“still lying down I felt devastated and unable to ask any of the millions of questions that were buzzing in my head”

This story is brimming with many fascinating facts about multiple sclerosis gathered during her struggle to find answers. It contains numerous quotes from revered medical experts and includes excerpts from articles and studies on related topics like stress and viruses. It follows her attempts to find a cure.

“I followed a saturated fat free diet and gave blood regularly, I endured the inevitable series of neurological tests and even underwent yet another lumbar puncture all for the benefit of research but noticed little improvement”

It tells how she eventually turns to spiritual healing, giving a detailed insight into her experiences including documented transcripts of meetings with John Devereux. It explains different remedies such as Sepia, Natrum Muriaticum and Causticum and follows her life as she benefits from these alternate ways of thinking.

“I felt a different person, gone were my phobias and problems, gone my worries and concerns. I could see straight and think clearly; I had never felt better in my life”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liz Attewell
• Release date: Sep 18, 2013

Book preview

Multiple Sclerosis - a Healing Experience

by Liz Attewell & John Devereux

Copyright © 2000 Drinkwater Publishing. All rights reserved.

This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part or re-sold or distributed by any means without the permission of the authors.

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Originally Manufactured in South Wales, Great Britain by Hay Design and Print, Hay-on-Wye, Herefordshire.

Re-printed by Remous Print – www.remous.com

www.drinkwaterpublishing.com

Disclaimer: The authors in no way claim that the homeopathic remedies used are, in themselves, cures for Multiple Sclerosis.

INTRODUCTION

This book is ostensibly about my experience of the medical condition known as Multiple Sclerosis and the powerful role that Homeopathy has played for me in halting this ‘incurable’ disease. It would be more truthful to say that the curing of my MS was really an extra bonus, which manifested itself along with my total healing; a healing which, by definition entailed my mind, spirit, body, and mental state, as well as the Multiple Sclerosis.

So that's really what this story is about, the ever unfolding road to freedom and the strange events which occurred along the way; sometimes so strange that I am forced to ask the discerning reader to suspend judgement, as I am unable to supply any logical explanation or neat conclusion.

At the conception of this tale I sought to discover the reasons for the disease and by default the secret of my cure. In part I feel I have accomplished this task but as to the how and why, I can offer little by way of explanation, and next to nothing in the hard facts department.

‘She's only in remission’ is the reply of those within the orthodox ranks of the medical profession, who, due to the very nature of their scientific discipline and modus operandi, can only believe that MS may well return.

I suppose it's splitting hairs to feel in any sense annoyed at this pronouncement, because if, being in remission lasts a lifetime, then who gives a damn? However, I put forward a different case and say that through Homeopathy with the skill and patience of my Homeopath, John Devereux, with whom this book is jointly written, I have been cured. The fact that I personally experienced the symptoms of an attack dissipating within a matter of a few days, a phenomenal speed in the normal course of events, will have to be taken on trust. The more general Homeopathic treatment of my whole being, both mind and body, which took place over the best part of two years has ‘changed’ me to such a degree, that today I can say with my hand on my heart that I have defeated my Multiple Sclerosis once and forever.

When I started to write this book I did not know where to begin or how to structure my story. I looked to Homeopathy to show me the way and sure enough, the answer was staring me right in the face. Within the Homeopathic system, itself a scientific discipline based upon verifiable laws, the healing process is divided into different areas of activity.

First taking the case, when the Homeopath finds out what he or she needs to know about the patient, second case analysis where the Homeopath devotes his real skill to understanding what has been happening to the patient to cause each particular symptom to manifest, next a prescription for the corresponding remedy and finally one or more follow up sessions to check on the Patient's progress.

By its investigative nature this discipline seemed an analogy to criminal detection; indeed the very terms ‘case’ has a legal connotation. From ‘clues’ given by the patient during a lengthy consultation with the Homeopathic practitioner, the patient reveals not only what is wrong and why they seek help but also much about what sort of individual they are and thus exhibiting the symptoms of a particular type. The ‘case’ is thus assembled and the patient is categorised (although by definition each patient is seen as wholly independent and unique) the symptoms are identified and the corresponding remedy or remedies are selected.

And so I decided to present my own ‘case’ and relate my story, John agreed to write up his thoughts on his remedy choice and together we would to see if we might help defeat the myth that MS is incurable.

CHAPTER 1

A Journey into Darkness

When I was very young I used to imagine crocodiles swam between the mattress of my bed and the sheets and that I had to keep very still in order to keep my toes from being nipped. Therefore, I would lie in bed unwilling to move a muscle and I would conjure up a whole entourage of slaves and servants who performed, on my behalf, all the necessary movements I needed to make. I would be fed and watered, my body repositioned beneath the sheets and the pages of my book turned each time I blinked. Later on, in my teenage years, these fantasies were coloured by more sexual overtones, but true to form, I was forever being done to.

Unfortunately, when I got to my mid-twenties, I discovered what it was really like, not to be able to walk properly and wrote a short poem about Multiple Sclerosis, which went like this:

THE NAMING OF THE MOUSE

Sclerosis is a hungry chap, Multiple muscles for dinner and thoughts for tea.

When all the fuss is over, it may be a lot he ate,

Or just a little.

Sclerosis is a cheeky chap, creeping in when no one’s looking, to arrive in silence,

Unannounced.

Chewing up insulation cables, raw voltage and memories no problem to digest.

Sclerosis is a church mouse, a field mouse, a door mouse,

Any bloody mouse you wish to name,

Just hiding in the Emperor's new clothes.

Take off the cloak of pity, and expose him trembling, naked underneath.

Marsupial not mastodon,

Vermin Virus, that's his name.

Now I am thirty-nine coming up to forty, I find myself writing a book about MS and the role that Homoeopathy has played in my coming to grips with and overcoming this disgusting disease.

My experience of MS and all its vagaries commenced when I first began to exhibit the symptoms of this strange and wilful disease, although at the time I was unaware that what I had, had a name; or for that matter that I had anything at all.

All I knew was that at the age of around 12, there were times when strange ‘hot sensations’ would travel up my legs when I bent my head forward. These abnormal feelings persisted on and off over time, and I thought little of them. At the suggestion of my GP, some ten years later in 1975, I attended the Hospital for Nervous Diseases which, situated in London’s Maida Vale, was literally just round the corner from where I lived. Here nameless men in white coats came and went, silently and without explanation, to perform a series of neurological tests, tests which I considered to be surprisingly simple, and confirmed to me the insignificance of my ailment.

I would be told to close my eyes and an area of my body would be investigated for any abnormalities in sensation; different parts of me would be touched by either a sharp pin or a piece of cotton wool and my job, without looking, was to say which it was. Straightforward enough you would think: but for me, in some places, it all felt like cotton wool.

From the results of these and a few other equally uninteresting tests it was established that I was suffering from ‘an inflammation of the spinal nerves caused by a viral infection’. Well, at last it had a name: ‘L'hermit syndrome’ and I remember thinking thankfully at the time that people would no longer think that I was making up these strange symptoms or for that matter, that I was going off my rocker as telling my friends that I was going for tests at a hospital for ‘Nervous Diseases’ had unfortunate connections with a mental asylum.

When all the investigating was over, the men in white coats said that there was nothing they could do about my strange symptoms and that the hot flushes would abate with time, which they eventually did, I supposed it all had something to do with growing up.

The next unexplained odd symptom happened when aged 28, whilst trekking up the Sugar Loaf Mountain in Wales, I fell off a horse. The animal had bolted and I had fallen off and hit my head on a rock, causing me to lose consciousness for a few moments. When I came round I was badly shaken but much to my horror, discovered I couldn't see properly. My vision seemed rather blurred and I found it difficult to focus properly, a condition that lasted for some weeks. After my initial reaction of distress and shock, I felt very angry with the trekking establishment, who had not provided me with a riding hat, and came to the logical conclusion that equestrian pastimes were not for me.

I blamed my misfortune on the horse, and sought a cure to my visual impairment from a neurosurgeon in Harley Street.

From reading my medical records, I now know he had already guessed that in all likelihood I was exhibiting the early indications of Multiple Sclerosis. However, he chose not to divulge his suspicions, but passed me on to an optician. Here I was duly prescribed glasses, which I wore from time to time in an effort to correct what the ophthalmic ‘specialist’ had diagnosed as a lazy eye. Now maybe I do the man an injustice, but using the equipment he had for investigating the inner workings of my eyes, surely he must have been able to discern the tell-tale blank spots in my visions, caused no doubt by demyelination and lesions already occurring to the optic nerve, yet he saw fit to prescribe rather useless and expensive glasses.

I shall not make further comment here on the ethical implications of withholding such information. I understand Multiple Sclerosis is difficult to diagnose and perhaps because conventional medicine offers no cure, members of that persuasion will not divulge their suspicions until all other avenues are exhausted.

After all, it is a somewhat devastating pronouncement to make to a person, especially when, as far as I'm concerned, stress can play such a leading role in the course of this disease. But back to the tale - as far as I can recall, nothing more inopportune happened until some really frightening symptoms occurred later on in that same year.

However, as the purpose of relating this potted version of my life history is not to fill the pages with memorabilia, but an attempt to paint in the background to the portrait of the person who was successfully cured, now seems as good a time as any to make a ‘U’ turn in the narrative, away from my diagnosis and to concentrate for a while on the person to whom it happened.

With the help of material gleaned from both the annals of homeopathy and psychiatry, I want to try to establish that there may be a ‘type’ of person who, due to the influence of stress acting adversely on their physical and psychological self, has an unfortunate predisposition towards this unholy disease.

Here I must add the proviso that in no way do I want to suggest that there exists a ‘Type’ of person who will necessarily get MS, nor that MS is in any sense consciously caused by the unfortunate sufferer. Rather I am extremely interested to understand this affliction a little better, as well as to try to comprehend why going to a