After my first, long week at the Klinik, mommy and I expected to have Saturday and Sunday to ourselves and hoped to casually tour the closest city, St. Gallen. Instead, Dr. Rupp phoned our hotel room around 11:00 and inquired how I was feeling. Sadly, I reported, I got barely any sleep and my pain was pretty bad, particularly my abdominal discomfort. Making a rare exception, on his weekend off, he asked me to meet him, so that he could give me oil to rub on my most painful areas and medicine to help with my bowels.
As the Yiddish proverb goes, “Man plans and God laughs.” Dr. Rupp told us he had just seen my first blood test results, since my arrival at the Klinik, and he was completely shocked! He had already determined the majority of my symptoms were attributable to autoimmunity, heavy metal toxicity, immune deficiency, brain inflammation and toxicity, rheumatoid arthritis, and severe systemic inflammation. What he had discovered, which wasn’t in his original diagnoses, was that I have a dramatic acute infection, which has caused my SED rate and CRP to fly through the roof. He was alarmed by these drastic levels and admitted that this substantially changes our course of action. What came next was frightening, while simultaneously comforting, because it allows me to trust that time my doctor’s ego isn’t going to get in the way of treating me properly. Dr. Rupp said, “In the past 25 years of practicing medicine I have never once prescribed an antibiotic to a patient. I have always been able to treat any infection through other, more natural modalities. However, as much as I hate to say this, I think I might need to give you antibiotics. Go home and rest, please try not to get out of bed. We will discuss this more on Monday.” I was utterly flabbergasted!
Though the news of the morning was not uplighting, mommy and I received an update from home last night that had us elated. Anyone who knows me well, knows that my little brother means more to me than anything in the world. My whole family is closer than close, but Teddy and I have a particularly strong bond, in part due to the fact we slept in the same bed for seven years. When I was in 2nd grade, I heard about the tragic kidnapping of Elizabeth Smart. This beautiful 14-year-old girl was taken at knifepoint from the bed she shared with her sister, while the entire Smart family was home asleep. For anyone who doesn’t know her incredible story of faith and fortitude I would highly suggest her autobiography, written a few years after being saved from the monsters who tried to steal her life and reunited with her wonderful family. At the time of her disappearance, though, I was very shaken up by the thought of being stolen in the night from a seemingly safe and secure house and neighborhood while my parents slept in their bed down the hall. No worries! I conjured up a plan of my own to retaliate to such encounters with villains. I would sleep in Teddy’s bed against the wall. When an intruder approached, they would inevitably go for the closest, most easily accessible body. Therefore, they would take Teddy….but I would save him! Each night, before retiring, I would double check that the two doors in between his room and my parents’ were slightly ajar, so as not to require doorknobs to enter. Conveniently, the doors opened by swinging away. The plan went: The kidnapper tries to snatch Teddy. I quickly jump to my feet and, standing on the bed, kick the “bad guy” right in the face. I leap from the bed and hold my arms out straight in front of me, with my elbows locked. The doors swing open easily because of the well-designed set-up. I run to my parents bed and wake them. My dad immediately jumps into his Superman form and runs to ensure Teddy’s safety.
Now, back to the good news! Yesterday, my best buddy in the world, my “T-Bone”, scored a hat-trick in his ice hockey game. Teddy has played AAA hockey for years and he is very talented. What I love most about watching him play is how much heart he puts into every minute on the ice. Last weekend, before flying to Switzerland, Teddy and I said our goodbyes early, because he was headed to the rink for a game, as per usual. As he walked out the door, my dad called to him, “score a goal for your sister!” It was not long after he left that I realized I had lost my passport and ended up missing my flight. When he came home after the game, he was surprised to find me still there. I was frustrated about having made such a big mistake, but his response made everything better. He grinned and said, “at least I get one more night with my girl!” We all wanted to know how the game went and he told us that he had indeed scored a goal for me. My dad replied, “how many?” and his answer was, “just one, you only asked me to score one for France.”