It's Megan's 22nd birthday today. It seems just yesterday she was gurgling and cooing in my arms.
She'll have another quiet day in the desert and hopefully go out to dinner. If she's up to it.
Megan developed severe eczema early on. Knowing what I know now, I would ask the question "Why?" I would look for evidence of mold, and consult a specialist in the alternative health arena. I would make significant dietary changes immediately.
Instead we treated her with topical steroids and continued to watch her struggle with other health issues. She was vulnerable the moment we moved into our home in Colorado. She was two months shy of her 13th birthday.
Her health declined over the next few years. She graduated High School at 16 and eagerly anticipated a college career in Nova Scotia. College proved difficult. Not for academic reasons. Mycotoxins in the body every aspect of a person's well being. She came home. After careful thought she decided to go to Africa. She was a willing and hopeful soul determined to find her place and purpose in a world that had offered more sorrow than joy.
The mission agency agreed to let Megan go alone to a small remote village to live with a pastor, his wife, and 9 children. It seemed like a perfect fit. It might have been if an internal cesspool of microorganisms weren't threatening her health.
She left Colorado in early November of 2005. By New Year's Eve she was diagnosed with malaria. The high fever and abdominal pain were unmistakable. Two weeks later the malaria was back with a vengeance. This time with a higher fever and hallucinations. And she was far away from home. In Africa. In a village where the closest medical facility was a motorcycle ride through the brush. The youngest in the family, Barnabus, fell in a pot of boiling water. He and Megan were rushed to the "facility" where both lay on cots in a tent fighting for their lives. It was clear that Barnabus needed hospitalization. Megan needed to get back to the city. With Barnabus whimpering next to her, and his mom trying to calm him, they took the 5-hour car ride to the city.
Barnabus survived. Megan came home to Colorado.
She stayed a few months before trying college again. She studied Greek and Latin in Boulder. That's Megan. Always willing to try. By that time our lives were crumbling. We had a mold remediation going on and the kids were getting sick. She knew she couldn't continue in college so she returned home unknowingly to a room filled with toxic mold.
As she watched Reagan's vertigo and vomiting and him digging his nails into my arms because of the dizziness, her eyes were filled with compassion. She, too, had suffered.
Last December I told her I was taking the four youngest to Arizona to begin a treatment protocol. She dropped everything, drove all night, and joined our quest. Deep down she knew none of this was her fault. She knew her health had never been right. It was time to get answers and help.
She started the diet and de-tox on December 27th. Within 24 hours her eyes were swollen shut. The fungi that had been multiplying began to starve and die off.
We've found other issues along the way. Evidences of parasites, parvo virus, and bartonella, to name a few.
We have found her shaking in her bed from chills and fever. When you understand the nature of neurotoxins you understand that the de-tox process is often much worse than the onset of the illness.
And all she did was live in a house.
Megan, I admire you. Not only for your giftedness as an artist, your beauty, and your caring heart. I admire you because you have an indomitable spirit that has weathered far too many storms . You don't give up. And you've chosen to embrace a journey far more treacherous than any mountain expedition. This poem, by Tolkien, makes me think of you.