Words are Medicine

I've been practicing homeopathy for more than 10 years and using it for nearly 25. You would imagine that after all that time, watching patients, pets and friends get sick and then so gracefully get better, I'd be somewhat inured or at least not so easily impressed. But I have to admit that when I see cures effected by those little  "inert" pellets I'm still surprised and delighted by how magical it can be.

The other day was a case in point. Angie, as some of you know, is my eldest dog. She has bilateral cardiomyopathy, metastasized carcinoma, cataracts, spinal arthritis and dysplasia. She is 15 years old. She has had an amazingly rich and happy life with us–traveled across the country, sniffed through woods in Montana, New Mexico, Colorado, and New York, chased down critters she was too cumbersome to catch, buried bones in caches so secret they are still there, dug 3 foot deep holes under azaleas to keep herself cool, then at the end of the day had a warm home, a good meal and a belly rub waiting for her.

She was diagnosed  in June 2008  by a doctor in Montana with congestive heart failure and was given 1 month to live. I called Dr. Stephen Tobin, our homeopathic vet in Connecticut, and we gave her lachesis, CoQ10, and a diuretic to help her eliminate the extra fluids. Within a week she was walking more comfortably. Within the month she had rallied herself so beautifully I thought perhaps our troubles were really over.

But then, some time in the fall of 2008 she suddenly developed a hard lump on the back of her left hip. It grew fast. One day it was there and the next day it wasn't. Something about it made me concerned and I took her in for a biopsy, which confirmed that it was a carcinoma. The doctor in New Mexico gave her two months.

Angie's always been dominant. We have called her "your highness" and Madame Angeline more than once. The dominance that had been so difficult and irritating in her youth now seemed to be the springboard for another recovery, because apparently she was having none of that nonsense with limitations. Her expression seemed to say to us, "I shall decide when and where I am to go."

So, we proceeded as always–CoQ10, a few supplements, a remedy as indicated. She had made it a year past their deadlines and once again, we thought we were clear.

But, that was our own foolishness, perhaps. She is 15 and regardless of medical approach, we are all limited and mortal.

Two weeks ago, she took a turn for the worse. She began panting, pacing, cramping with diarrhea. She was terribly anxious. It was worse at soon as the sun set. She was thirsty and drank huge drafts of cold water. She was ravenous. At first we thought phosphorous. We gave her a 30c, then a 200c. It seemed to me that it made it worse. We spent a week night-watching and by the end of that week my husband and I both needed our own remedies. It was exhausting.

So, I took a close look at her again and felt for sure that she was moving into her last stages. I worried that she was suffering. I worried that I was keeping her around for my own benefit. My husband and I talked for hours about euthanasia and when–if–how we would know it was the right time. (See blog "Words Are Medicine".)

Then I remembered that Arsenicum (among a few other remedies) in high potencies was often used to ease the transition in a dying patient. It would not "euthanize" or kill anyone, but if the vital force was already too ill to be healed, it would smooth the passage. If the vital force, however, were still strong, the patient could be rallied.

I took the case again: pacing, restless with the pains, panting, cancerous affections, anxiety, diarrhea (especially at night). It was all arsenicum. I gave 10M. One dose. And then I waited, half-expecting to find her gone in the morning.

What I got was quite different. We had two days of bloody diarrhea, but an instant calming of her spirit. The panting stopped. The pacing was gone. She was able to get up and walk around with us as we moved through the house. She kept up with the other dogs.

She's rallied.

I know we all come into the world with a time-stamp. And lengthening her days was not the objective, even if it was one sweet outcome. Giving her comfort and peace for however long she was her with us was. And–once again–homeopathy came through in a way that surprised and relieved and delighted us.

Thank you, Samuel Hahnemann.

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