Discovering The Spectrum

A journey of “medical” enlightenment

In August, 2018 an article ran in the Australian press titled “Mugwort is for Mugs”. It featured a leading Adelaide doctor who slammed alternative treatments that pregnant women are now turning to as unsafe. There seemed to be some confusion in the article as references were made to these “New Age” alternatives being from the dark ages, and specifically advocated ECV (External Cephalic Version) as the safest way to turn a breech baby. The ethical journalist in me simmered for days and did a lot of meditative breathing. The space I was sitting in was one that so many midwives, childbirth educators, doulas, naturopathic doctors, Chinese Medicine Practitioners, anthroposophic doctors and many others are sitting in… a space where we deeply know that “alternative” medicine works, we’ve seen it work first-hand with long-term sustainable results. A space where we sit with handfuls of evidence-based research that proves that current mainstream methods are not the only way and in many ways are letting people down, but a space that most advertising-driven media is still too muzzled to open their mouths about or are so time pressured, they’re happy for journalists to write anything with only a single source simply as long as they get a story out there.

How did I find myself in this space. Well, for one, I had worked in magazines and newspapers and knew that a combination of tight deadlines, resources, biases, backscratching and big business was a melting pot for some sketchy story telling. I’d done it. My colleagues had done it. Did we feel proud doing it? No. Did many of us sometimes throw in the towel? Yes. Standing up and calling out protocol or getting stuck into serious investigative stuff was for the brave.

I also happened to be in this “alternative” space through my own health journey. I was just your average person, experiencing your average health issues. Or were they average?

As a teenager I developed acne as did most teenagers in the 90s and today. It had never really been a thing prior to our generation, but because we were all covered in spots it was obviously a “normal” malady. My mother wasn’t wild about the idea of strong medication so we had a go at more natural options first. I tried reflexology. One session did nothing, so clearly that was no good (read disclaimer). I went to a homeopath who prescribed a bundle of little white capsules a bottle of evening primrose oil and sent me on my way. I tried them for a week, felt grumpier, saw no immediate results and shoved those aside (again, read disclaimer). I was your typical impatient teen. I wanted immediate healing, today.

Off to the GP I went… GPs knew what they were talking about. After all, they were trained in real medicine right. Antibiotics and contraceptives were the acne prescription du jour. I opted for antibiotics and proceeded with a 3-year, yes that’s right THREE YEAR, course of gut-, and mood-altering modern medicine. But my skin was clear so it was all good. I could show my face in public and what more could a girl want. I eventually, however, realised the antibiotics needed to stop.

The acne returned.

It was obviously time to turn the war on spots up a notch. And a leading dermatologist prescribed Roaccutane. I began a low dose course, which had to be coupled with The Pill. Why? Because falling pregnant while taking Roaccutane carried risks of a child having severe deformities. I was in no place close to falling pregnant but agreed to Pill popping as it was recommended so I’d just go with it. These people knew their stuff. I had been warned that Roaccutane carried risks of experiencing depression later in life, but I was a teenager and “later in life was not even a concept”. I would be fine.

My skin eventually cleared up a year later, but I continued with the Pill. Everyone was on it, women had been on it since the 60s, so I was in no way concerned about side-effects there. So I carried on with that for another three years until the week before my wedding. I feel pregnant on my wedding night. Perfect!

But I lost the baby at 12 weeks. Miscarriage was something you’re expected to simply get over and keep trying for the next one. And that’s what I did. I then fell pregnant with my first daughter a few months later. This pregnancy finally gave me the peace of mind that my body worked. I could fall pregnant and I could carry a baby past 12 weeks. My hormones after her birth, however, struggled to regulate. They hadn't been given a chance to since I was 16 years old. I was now 30 and for the first time they were antibiotic and artificial hormone free. By the time she was 18 months old I finally admitted that things weren’t right. I was crying for at least a week out of every month. I was on a hormonal rollercoaster and I desperately wanted to just be on a straight highway. And I was exhausted. Now living in Australia, I booked an appointment with the nearest GP. The system there was that you could not see any specialist without a GPs referral. I sat in her room for our 10-minute consultation and told her how I was feeling. She proceeded to check my blood pressure and my weight, told me I might be depressed and handed me a brochure for a dietician and told me I should see them. That was it and she then ushered me out her room. Confused, I went to pay and was told that our consultation had run over so I needed to pay double. I went home angry and no closer to health.

And this is the point where, if you ask me whether I believe in guardian angels, guides, fate, cosmic connection, energy, I will say “with no shadow of a doubt”. I invited an old neighbour round to visit with her toddler. As we chatted in the garden she told me I should get in touch with her naturopath. Naturo-what? I was ready to try anything though. So off I went to a clinic in the heart of Subiaco. The chime of chinese bells greeted me and the smell of lemongrass filled my lungs. It remains, to this day, an aroma I will forever associate with comfort, healing and clarity.

I sat with this doctor (yes, she was a doctor, although mainstream doctors would disagree), with my two-year-old with me colouring happily in the room, and what followed left me in tears. We chatted for 2 hours! She asked my full health history. She was also trained as in iridologist so she also assessed my body through my eyes. She checked zinc levels, she checked iodine levels, she mixed up herbal tonics and it was a world I’d never seen before. Why the tears, you ask. They were tears of release. Relief and overwhelm that someone was finally listening to me and was hearing me. And the bill?! I could have cried some more when I discovered that I was charged for just a single appointment. I have since asked other people who have been to naturopaths and I have asked other naturopaths in other countries and it turns out that this is standard practice. Time is not the issue, money is not the issue… bringing a unique individual back to balance is the issue.

I personally have never turned back. Within a month of (vile tasting) herbal remedies and high-quality magnesium supplementation with evening guided meditations, I felt heaviness lift. Shortly after that I fell pregnant with my second daughter. And I was stronger in so many ways this time. I was strong enough to question my birth options, strong enough to believe that my body was not a mess. With that pregnancy, however, I carried fear of PPD being worse the second time round. I had been told that that was usually the case. It wasn’t. It wasn’t there at all. (Read disclaimer)

I have now lived in another two countries since then and in each place sought out “alternative” practitioners.

I should, obviously, be honest about my own personal bias in wanting to create this resource. Read here for my experience with mainstream and “alternative” medicine.