When my youngest son was first diagnosed with alopecia
areata, we desperately sought answers. All the traditional doctors at the
esteemed hospitals told us there was nothing we could do. I refused to believe
that and sought alternative treatments. This led us to a doc in Lancaster who
practiced what I’ll call ‘wellness medicine.’ He doesn’t have a sign and he
isn’t in the book, but through combing the internet, autoimmune message boards,
and facebook, we found him.
We waited nearly six months for our appointment. It was
pouring rain on the day that Ian and I set out for his office. We found it deep
in the heart of the city of Lancaster in a basement of an unmarked old house. I
was anxious, but committed to seeing it through so we waited in a damp, dimly
lit room for over thirty minutes. The only literature available to read
consisted of hippie newsletters full of information on making your own kefir,
recipes for bulgur (what?), CSA’s, organic farms, and endless rants against the
corrupt food system controlled by our even more corrupt government.
When the doctor appeared, he was a friendly bear of a man
and Ian took to him immediately. He talked to us extensively about what Ian
currently ate, looked in his mouth, felt his glands, scraped his skin, and
took a saliva test. Then he overwhelmed my mind with his talk about how upside
down our government’s nutritional standards are. He said Ian needed more animal
fats and salt in his diet. He prescribed homeopathic remedies like butter
capsules and vitamins he had specifically developed for kids in today’s
American food culture. While Ian munched on a piece of beef jerky from the jar
on his desk, I frantically wrote down everything he said about raw milk,
grass-fed meat, full-fat cheeses, and bacon grease.
