Scratching Beneath the Surface; Using Canine Instincts to Unbury Myself From Disease.
Writing out my journey to health with help from a good boy named Claude. This is an attempt to expand on my story in a narrative format.
This is incomplete until I add links and references in. Please consider it a draft.
Chasing My Tail
For as long as I can remember, my health has been a complex mystery with no clear answers in sight. A cascading series of debilitating symptoms gripped my body relentlessly, leaving me feeling ruff. Conventional approaches provided no answers or relief, as the root causes remained hidden from view, leaving me scratching my head in search of some explanation.
I embarked on a self-directed crusade to sniff out what even experts couldn’t find. As the years wore on and conditions worsened, I found myself growing increasingly frustrated by the lack of progress. Conventional medicine seemed unable to grasp the intricate interplay dogging my wellbeing at its core. Determined to take control, I embarked on a self-directed crusade to decode what even experts could not.
As my research continued, my late nights spent digging thru papers allowed me to slowly pieced together clues. As I dug, I began to uncover underlying threads connecting diverse areas. Emerging evidence suggested impacts beyond what was commonly assumed, with implications that shocked preconceptions. Hypotheses began coalescing around disruptions to crucial regulatory systems most take for granted.
Just as this line of investigation started yielding glimpses of promise, global events would accelerate its unfolding in frightening and illuminating ways. A looming pandemic bore eerie parallels to my own declining health, its ripple effects cascading in unforeseen directions. Against this turbulent backdrop, the urgency to find answers intensified to a breaking point.
What follows documents my perilous journey pushed to extremes by circumstances outside my control. Dangers were confronted, risks taken where conventional medical wisdom saw only futility. Through it all, an unconventional path emerged that defied expectations at every turn - and may yet hold hope where others found only darkness. Now, the lessons learned must be shared so that light may guide others still struggling as I once did in the valley of shadow.
Let this chronicle serve as proof that there are answers, even in the depths of desolation, for those willing to seek beyond what is seen.
Smelling Trouble on the Wind
As alerts swiftly mounted in late January 2020 that a looming pandemic was barreling toward America, my senses started to feel unsettled. A rising concern grew for vulnerable loved ones isolated without support networks. A decision was made to temporarily stay and lend a helping paw to my disabled mother, hoping vigilance could protect her from harm’s impending arrival.
Just days after arriving, the first confirmed case surfaced scant miles from her home. Word spread that across the river, an individual contracting the virus at Dartmouth Hospital unwittingly seeded outbreaks throughout the region. Our worst fears materialized with gut-wrenching speed, coming far closer to home than imagined possible.
Getting Dragged to Reality
When the Covid-19 pandemic emerged on the global stage in early 2020, my worst fears were realized. Watching the situation unfold with a sense of surreal horror, I saw my hypotheses playing out in real-time before my eyes. I felt like I was having a bad dream, with my body compelled to keep going on adrenaline, running on despite the constant fatigue.
What particularly terrified me was knowing the vulnerabilities of my entire family, as each member had some form of underlying autoimmune adjacent condition leaving their immune systems with an extra sensitive sniffer. As case numbers exploded, I became obsessively glued to the latest scientific developments for any clues as to what we were truly facing. When I wasn’t taking care of my mom, I was sitting in front of my computer trying to find answers.
That’s when the first research emerged showing SARS-CoV-2, like its genetic cousins, had the ability to infiltrate and infect the nervous system, and even possibly astroglial cells within the brain. Further evidence linked the virus to disruption of bile acid homeostasis and the gut microbiome, precisely the channels my research had identified as prime targets for treating my own illness.
Perhaps most alarming were the early reports of “long Covid”, describing patients burdened with persistent neurological and gastrointestinal ailments months after their initial infection. Brain scans on these individuals found patterns of hyperintensity and cortical atrophy comparable to mouse models of Multiple Sclerosis. I felt like I was watching a traffic accident in slo-mo unfold before my very eyes.
Witnessing these parallels between the findings regarding coronavirus pathologies and my own conglomerate of chronic conditions gave me an eerie sensation of living through some unforeseen viral experiment in real-time. A wake-up call had arrived to shed light on the invisible war being waged within our bodies; I was determined to get answers whatever the cost.
Finding a Doggy Daycare
In the early months of 2020, as the pandemic’s first waves gathered force, some solutions emerged from experiments years prior that eased my relentless symptoms somewhat.
After returning from my mother’s I found my girlfriend’s mom had began working remotely from home. I forsaw constant disruptions that would have hampered productivity. Enough respite was found that same summer to secure my own apartment, hoping separate space would optimize my work and allow continued research efforts amid lockdowns.
Yet living alone as my health fluctuated proved itself a double-edged sword. Deterioration accelerated without vital supports, each flare leaving deeper scars. The frailty of that fragile independence had been exposed. I knew asking for help wasn’t beyond me if things got ruff, but I didn’t realize how bad things could get.
Walking a New Path
For years, I had been suffering from a debilitating set of chronic health conditions with no clear cause or cure. A constant stream of recurring symptoms like fatigue, pain, cognitive dysfunction and more controlled my life. I had minor successes with diet shifts, but none of the approaches I tried seemed able to pin down exactly what was wrong or how to fix it.
Long before covid hit, I had been desperate for answers. having ran into issues with medication that left me even sicker than before, I decided to take the lead in my health journey. I spent countless hours researching the scientific literature, weaving different silos of knowledge together with an autistic zeal. Jumping from immunology to neurology to gut health and beyond.
I was obsessed with searching for what set my case apart and examining connections between conditions like Alzheimers, Autism, Schizophrenia and various Gut Disorders (like Crohn’s Disease) that matched my symptoms. That’s when I stumbled the emerging research on the gut-brain axis and their role in neurological conditions such as Multiple Sclerosis.
As I delved deeper into conditions like Multiple Sclerosis and their underlying mechanisms, a realization struck me - my grandmother had struggled for years with the same debilitating symptoms I now faced. Could the source of my declining health be inherited?
Examining emerging links between genetics, gut dysfunction and inflammation only strengthened this hunch. Drawing connections between research on conditions such as Crohn’s Disease and non-alcoholic fatty liver disease began increasing the odds this inherited vulnerability could underlie my personal health battle as well. I became determined to test my hypotheses through genetic profiling in search of confirmation and clues.
Having learned that gut health and fasting could benefit metabolic issues in multiple sclerosis, I decided to try it despite the unconventional approach. After someone graciously donated to me to get a gene test to confirm hunches and predictions about my own genetics, I attempted a questionable “poor man’s antibiotic” and underwent a 3-day fast. The results were dramatic - my hormones and skin changed rapidly as zits covered my face like puberty. My lung problems suddenly resolved and my strength recovered enough that I felt alive again. Even my long-term major depression disappeared almost overnight. I had somehow managed to find some reprieve from my symptoms and it was like I had a new leash on life.
Something about these findings resonated with me on a deep level. I was intrigued by evidence that astrocyte dysfunction may underlie wider patterns of disease than previously thought. Cases of brain inflammation occurring outside of MS also showed signs of impaired astroglial function. Another connection that grabbed my attention involved breakthroughs being made in HIV/AIDS research, where genes like CCR5 appeared influential in not just susceptibility to HIV infection, but also autoimmune disorders such as MS.
This new pathway before me ignited a passion and drive to keep digging. I began hypothesizing possible links between various viral impacts, the crosstalk between the gut and brain, and how disruption in these delicate systems may be contributing to my own declining health and symptoms. It was the first glimpse of hope I had that answers may indeed exist, though the road to finding them would be a long one indeed.
Sniffing Out Clues
As Covid loomed over my head, and driven by these converging strands of insight, I became increasingly determined to dig to the bottom of my still-mysterious health decline. As my research continued down this avenue, more intriguing connections started coming to light. Common threads began linking my dispersed findings together into a clearer web of understanding.
I delved deeper into an ever branching array of interests. Noticing connections, I explored more on CCR5’s role in HIV studies, noticing how this gene’s influence extended beyond susceptibility to actual infection of astrocytes as well. This co-aligned with discoveries that coronaviruses, including those responsible for previous SARS outbreaks, were also able to infiltrate and damage these important glial cells within the brain.
My interest was further piqued by retrospective reports analyzing the long term effects of SARS-1 infection back in 2003. Patients were found to develop chronic fatigue, cognitive difficulties, gut issues and autoimmunity resembling a multiple sclerosis-type syndrome years after first falling ill. I began to seriously hypothesize we were severely underestimating coronaviruses’ ability to induce systemic consequences in both the short and long term.
These collective findings sparked a hunch in my mind. What if conditions like MS had infectious triggers all along that simply went overlooked or misunderstood? And if viruses could emerge anywhere, even years after initial exposure concluded, was it possible Covid-19 too would impart lingering multifaceted impacts currently going undetected?
Driven by these converging strands of insight, I became increasingly determined to solve the riddle of my still-mysterious health decline against the backdrop of a looming global pandemic. Little did I know then just how much this fascinating field of research, and the real human impacts it forewarned, were about to explode onto the headlines in tragic yet illuminating ways.
Hitting a Dead End
As 2020 unfolded, the urgency of my mission only intensified as my symptoms grew worse. Navigating chronic illness alone amid a pandemic further constrained the few resources previously available to me. I redoubled my efforts searching for breakthroughs that might bring relief, following every intriguing study and case report with fervent hope.
One finding in particular reignited my spirits - a case describing full remission of MS symptoms after FMT for C. diff infection. The implications were enormous if gut bacteria truly modulated brain health. It would explain my fasting and gut clearing regimen helping me somewhat, but also suggested why I wasn’t completely in remission.
This aligned with accumulating evidence that viral impacts on the microbiome could influence astrocytes metabolically. And as I learned more I became frustrated with restrictive policies blocked potentially helpful experiments like FMT that showed promise.
Facing declining health without access to proper medical care, frustration grew at the lack of options. Desperate times would require desperate action on my part to take back control of a spiraling situation left in my hands to navigate alone. Answers had to be found, the urgency greater than ever before.
Taking the Leash into My Own Hands
As winter bore down, the devastating effects of years battling chronic illness had taken their toll. My symptoms had escalated to an unbearable degree while living remotely isolated without any support system. My MS symptoms grew severe, with sciatica pain leaving me unable to sit patiently Infront of my computer. At my lowest point, my mobility had deteriorated so severely that I could barely walk unassisted.
At my worst, the combination of gait instability and Crohn’s symptoms reduced my mobility to an unbearable level. During severe flare ups, digestive issues left me losing control over basic bodily functions. I felt as helpless as an untrained pup still being house trained. Those dark moments epitomized my complete loss of independence and dignity - a trauma that to this day replays vividly in nightmares.
During my more stable periods, I had been researching potential links between COVID, astrocyte dysfunction and my worsening symptoms. In particular, how impacts on gut health and the microbiome from Crohn’s disease could influence immune dysfunction and neuroinflammation. One paper stuck out in my mind. How a chance fecal microbiota transplant (FMT) had helped put someone’s MS into remission for over 10 years, likely by correcting dysbiosis. Hoping FMT could address my own gut and immune issues, which I suspected contributed to astrocyte troubles and perhaps reverse demyelination problems fueling central symptoms, I tried getting help. However, regulatory and access barriers blocked my attempts to receive a sanctioned treatment. As winter progressed my situation became dire. Snowed in and unable to obtain food, my hands stopped functioning entirely.
Months of isolation in the remote mountains of Vermont had left me broken in body and spirit and feeling like a lost dog. As the seemingly endless winter raged outside, I could only watch in dread as the pandemic tore through communities elsewhere.
The last time my GF visited she witnessed me crying for an hour straight over my frustration. I was reading about everyone coming down with the very same neurological symptoms I had been suffering with for so long and unable to do anything about myself.
I began hearing about family and friends falling ill with Covid, but being confined alone, I felt powerless to offer even the smallest comfort or assistance to those I loved. And staring back at me in this reflection of my struggles I couldn’t help but face the torment of being struck by a debilitating flare up of my own. With options dwindling, I faced losing all independence.
On January 28th, a moment of clarity arrived. After exhausting every research avenue, one last experimental approach remained - but it carried immense risk if attempted alone in my weakened state. With no acceptable options remaining, I reluctantly decided to attempt a dangerous self-administered FMT using dog feces out of concern for my long term survival.
Unleashing Breakthroughs
Deciding to do the canine sourced FMT was a last resort born of desperation during the bleakest of times. In the coming months, my health trajectory would undergo a startling change. But for now, a terrifying road lay ahead, with an uncertain outcome.
I made the difficult decision to stopped working at my job and temporarily move back in with my girlfriend and her mother in hopes of hanging on long enough to strengthen. Though an unconventional solution was taking shape, undertaking something so far outside accepted protocols could prove catastrophic without proper precautions.
Depending on my past experiences with the fasting regimen, I had some basic recovery over the coming weeks. In this relief, I began putting plans in motion for what lay ahead. By asking for assistance on Twitter, arrangements were made to obtain necessary medical lab testing through volunteer help and a small refrigerator was donated to store supplies. The last of my money from the job allowed me to buy two rounds of dog feces. One to test on my GF’s dog, and one for myself should it work for her.
Though I was stalked by doubts, I found resolve knowing this approach resonated with accumulated science. Conventional means provided no answers - if a solution existed, it would require venturing through untrodden lands. Come what may, I vowed to solve this mysterious ailment on my own terms. All that was left was to gather strength and pray this final roll of fate’s dice carried healing power.
A Path Emerges
In the tense weeks that followed that fateful decision, all hope hung by the narrowest of threads. But gradually, signs arose that this desperate gamble may pay off where all else failed. The dog had improved. The time was ripe.
In January 2022 I began my homebrew regimen. Almost immediately, certain longstanding issues began resolving with startling speed. Debilitating digestive ailments I’d known for years were steadily alleviating. Persistent joint pains faded, lost mobility gradually returning.
As days stretched into a month, even my energy levels and cognitive fog started lifting, as if slate being wiped clean. Strength long depleted was replenishing, the internal tempest calmed.
By late February, the changes had become unmistakable. Where only fragments of my former self remained, new strengths were emerging each day. Symptoms that had once dominated my existence were fading steadily, as I regained pieces of the life that had long seemed out of reach. Though the journey was far from over, for the first time I sensed rebuilding what was lost may not be just a distant hope, but a reality within my grasp.
I found myself able to stand comfortably and carry out basic daily routines without the crippling pain and fatigue that had ruled me before. Personal care tasks I once dreaded were manageable once more. The dog in my stomach had been trained.
No less than a miracle had occurred - but science, not faith, birthed this renewal. Piece by piece, the origins of suffering decoded until their root was severed. At last, answers materialized through means unconventional but rooted firmly in reason. It felt absurd.
A long recovery lay ahead, but for the first time I have control. What was once a nightmare of endless running now changed - I felt eager to chase cars rather than flee illness. My future feels open, no longer confined to a cage by illness, and leash in hand, new adventures awaited wherever curiosity led.
Begging for Solutions
Since that life-changing chapter, advances once unimaginable have been made. Where illness left only despair, I feel like a new pup learning to find a footing. What was normal is redefined. No longer chasing sickness’s tail, this story of a recovering hybrid of human-and hound (and my steady pace) outlines the path ahead as energy and vitality regain their leash.
With new life also came responsibility. If this miracle held answers for me, surely others must be helped who suffer as I once did. No stone could be left unturned to prevent more enduring needless pain.
Through my experience, a case emerged unlike any in modern record. An unconventional case study begging to have its lessons shared and build upon. Details were documented and efforts redoubled to advocate for reform.
Restrictive policies choking innovation must evolve if science is to serve to end suffering. Proper screening and testing could empower those left with no options through accessibility of therapies like FMT. The balance has tilted too far from those who most require care’s compassionate arms.
Presenting ongoing investigations into viral persistence mechanisms maintaining chronic disease, the call grows to support all pathways to solutions. If events of the past three years teach anything, it is that we all wish to take back control amid helplessness. Let no one be left to gamble with their lives for want of hope.
A long road of discovery still lies ahead. But none shall walk it alone if solidarity in shared purpose can be its light. Answers will be found for all who need not just hope, but hands to help them see tomorrow.
Joining the Dog-Gone Pieces
What began as a solitary mission born of desperation led down paths I never could have foreseen. Layer by layer, the mysteries sabotaging my health were peeled back through means both extraordinary and rooted firmly in science.
In the process, a larger story emerged with implications still unfolding - one that challenges long-held assumptions and opens new horizons of understanding. We are only starting to grasp how intricately woven are the fragile regulatory systems on which our well-being depends. When disrupted, even subtly, consequences can extend in ripple effects throughout the body in unexpected ways.
Diseases once viewed as singular and discrete may have more in common than realized. Environmental triggers and persistent pathogens, once overlooked, could hold keys to unexplainable chronic ailments dismissed as psychosomatic. By seeking interconnecting threads where others saw only isolation, answers can be found.
Progress demands standing on shoulders of unconventional thinkers who ask daring questions. Restrictive policies choking innovation must evolve to empower those left with no hope. As with any road less traveled, dangers exist - but without venturing into unknown lands, light will never reach those in deepest shadow.
Our best chance at mastering life’s riddles lies not through force but compassion - hearing each other’s struggles, supporting diverse pathways forward. With open and searching minds, answers will be uncovered for all seeking to reclaim ownership of wellness currently beyond their grasp.
While some mysteries remain, I now have a clearer outlook compared to the darkness of the past. I’ve regained control over myself and mobility after being restricted for so long. If unusual approaches can create such positive change against the odds, hope for finding other cures is endless. A new phase has begun.
I want this story to show that life finds a way to grow back, even from barren places, for anyone stubborn enough to keep trying instead of giving up. If one lost dog could find their way out of deep trouble, no others need feel alone and suffer either. Solutions exist - this pup has learned - for anyone willing to keep searching open-minded instead of staying stuck.