Parasites

I've been thinking alot about parasites lately. It seems to me that "parasite" is like "weed." A weed is simply a plant we don't have any use for, or that is occupying a space or behaving in a way we don't want it to. Same with a parasite: it's something we don't have any use for, or that is present somewhere or doing something we don't approve of.

But I think that's a very humancentric concept, and a very adversarial, "us vs. them" approach, at that. As with everyone and everything else on the planet, the organisms we call parasites have a place and a purpose.

To put this idea to a rigorous, real-world test, I decided to consider one of the nastiest parasites we have in veterinary medicine: heartworm (Dirofilaria immitis). Its place is inside a dog or some other suitable mammalian host. Its purpose presently eludes me, but I believe it does have one. The adversarial view of life would suggest that its "purpose" on the planet, if it has one at all, is to control the population of dogs. While that may well be part of it, I think this view is fundamentally flawed, not to mention incomplete; it just doesn't include all of the facts. I believe that there can - and even should - be a healthy balance between parasite and host, a dynamic that is mutually beneficial.

The benefit to the parasite is obvious: a warm, well-protected place to live, where food is plentiful - that is, as long as the host stays alive. (Note that there is absolutely no benefit to killing, or even harming, the host; because in so doing, the parasite would sign its own death warrant. The idea of parasites as population control just doesn't hold up.)

But what is the benefit to the host? Not to gross you out, but immunologists are now using pig worms to treat allergic conditions in humans. So, one benefit to the parasite-host relationship evidently involves restoring a more healthy immune system response in the host. Whether the host's immune system needs to develop greater vigor or greater tolerance, the presence of a parasite appears able to facilitate it.

Problems arise when there is a lack of balance between parasite and host, or the parasite winds up out of place (e.g. in the wrong host or in the wrong tissue within the right host). Perhaps instead of focusing on killing the worms, we should be emphasizing host health, in the true sense of the word "health" - including physical, psychological, social, and environmental aspects - and restoring a healthy balance between parasite and host, to our mutual benefit. The same is true for the dynamic between host and resident bacteria. That's a fascinating symbiosis... Perhaps I'll write about that next time.

It is possible for a healthy dog to be heartworm positive, and it is just as possible for a heartworm-positive dog to be healthy. It's all about balance. But isn't that true of almost every facet of life?

Stay tuned,

-Dr. Chris King-

Nature's Apprentice

www.animavet.com

Viruses

Viruses have been getting a lot of press lately, so I figured I’d share some of my mental ramblings about them, in case something in these musings is helpful to you.

My thinking on viruses was pretty conventional until I was driving back home from a USDA (U.S. Department of Agriculture) veterinary accreditation course. The drive was long, and for the first few hours, the scenery was rather boring, so I dropped into that meditative state peculiar to driving on long, flat, straight stretches of highway.

On my mind were the grizzly images I’d seen during the course, of animals afflicted with African horse sickness, foot and mouth disease, and other horrible viral infections. As I wondered what on earth life was up to with such awful things, I eventually had a surprising epiphany.

But first, I began by listing some things I knew about viruses:

* viruses are little more than fragments of DNA or RNA; some have thin coverings (called envelopes) and others do not, but in essence, all viruses are simply code

* specific viruses have an affinity for specific types of cells, and they code for specific cell behaviours, and thus they cause specific symptoms

* viruses can only replicate inside a living cell; in fact, most cannot survive for very long outside the host’s body

* with a few well-publicised exceptions, viruses tend to be highly species-specific

The thought then arose: what if viruses are fragments of ourselves (well, our species, anyway), broken off or left behind for some reason at the time of death or some other big, life-changing event? And what if viral infection is, in effect, that fragmented part of ourselves trying to be reintegrated and thus restored to wholeness; to come home, as it were?

I didn’t tell anyone about this idea; it was too kooky. I simply put it quietly to the test. I didn’t have to look very far for a suitable subject: I have my own resident virus, having suffered from cold sores since I was a teenager. (Herpes viruses, including the herpes simplex viruses that cause cold sores around the mouth, have a habit of latency, reappearing when conditions are suitable.)

The next time I felt that ominous tingling in my lip, I sat quietly and, instead of trying to kill the virus with one thing or another, I invited the virus to “come home,” to reintegrate, be restored—and restore me—to wholeness.

Guess what: I didn’t get that cold sore. And the times I’ve subsequently tried this approach at the first sign of an impending head cold, I didn’t get that cold. I’ve lived long enough to know the warning signs of these common viral infections in my body, how susceptible I am to viral infections, and how long the course of infection usually takes, so the results of this informal little experiment fairly blew my mind. I’ve since played with it in a few of my patients, with delightfully good results. I've also added to the theory...

Thoughts and emotions are perhaps even more infectious than viruses, bacteria, and other microbes, especially the “negative” emotions such as anger and fear. As Dr. Candace Pert lays out in her book Molecules of Emotion, within our bodies our thoughts and emotions use the plethora of messenger molecules (neurotransmitters, hormones, etc.) as their physical vehicles. So, I’m now thinking that every type of virus might represent a specific thought-form (thought-in-form?), a mental or emotional part of ourselves that requires healing or reintegrating, returning us to wholeness.

I also got to wondering what it is that renders one individual susceptible to a particular virus and another individual relatively impervious to that virus. I suspect that the particular virus matches the particular chinks in the individual’s armor; not to get in and cause trouble, but to get in and help restore wholeness.

Depending on how one looks at it, either the virus is highlighting points of weakness that can then be addressed, or it is entering who or where it can in order to be reintegrated. Either way, it should be a mutually beneficial arrangement.

But if that’s true, then why isn’t it what we usually experience? Why do viral infections make so many of us sick? Well, consider how you feel about viruses. For most of us, we could sum it up in one word: adversarial. We use words such as “combat,” “kill,” and “antiviral” when discussing viruses. Is it any wonder that we have an adversarial relationship with viruses?

One could argue that we feel this way about viruses because they make us sick, that the virus’s bad reputation is well-deserved. I can’t argue with that, although it does seem rather chicken-or-egg to me. What if you were to befriend the virus instead, invite it in, or at least be open to hearing what its presence is telling you about yourself and the way you’re living?

When I take the time to shift my perception in this way, I’m invariably the better for it, and the viral infection does not manifest in full.

Just something to think about as “flu season” approaches.

More soon,

Dr. Chris King

Nature's Apprentice

www.animavet.com 

Being changed

I’ve been thinking alot lately about how much we humans are in the habit of ordering our world to our liking, and how upset we get when we don’t get our way. Even when it comes to our animals, we want it all our way, even convincing ourselves that the decisions we’re making are on the animal’s behalf, when in reality we are serving our own self-interest. We want everyone and everything to dance to our tune, to do our bidding.

Our secular culture of materialism supports and encourages us. Even the quasispiritual teachings of this new age tell us we can have what we want. What chance do we have of breaking free of this destructive mindset?

The secret, I’m discovering, lies in balance: The balance between the impulsion to create, to grow, to produce something useful, if not novel, and the need to be content, still, and at peace. And the balance between getting what we want and not getting it.

In a recent meditation, I wondered how the natural world of animals and plants and other creatures get what they want and handle it when they don’t get what they want. The answer was so very simple that I still can hardly take it in:

“How do you get what you want?” I asked.

“We go get it,” they replied.

“But what do you do when you don’t get it?” I asked.

“We don’t get it,” they replied.

“Yes, but what if you really want it?” I asked.

“Then we go get it,” they replied.

“Yes, but what if you don’t get it?” I asked.

“Then we don’t get it,” they replied.

On and on like that it went, until I gave up. It’s so obvious, so simple, so patently self-evident that I just couldn’t make it fit with the way I’m used to operating.

Yesterday, after a weekend of happy but tiring work in my garden, I stumbled upon another insight into this balance thing that I hadn’t been seeing: the importance of letting the natural world act upon me, at the same time as I’m acting upon it.

Hard to explain in words, but there is a dynamo effect of endless, renewing flow that feels like life itself which occurs when we both act and allow ourselves to be acted upon; to be changed, even as we are creating change. Which comes first? Does it even matter?

And what does this mean for the way we operate in the physical world, and how we relate to our animals, plants, and other nonhuman beings that we love or value? Still working on that...

More soon,

Dr. Chris King

Nature's Apprentice

www.animavet.com

On starchy foods

For years now I’ve been recommending a low-starch diet for dogs and cats. (Starchy foods include all grains, as well as certain root veggies such as potatoes, sweet potatoes, and tapioca.) Carnivores are adapted to getting the bulk of their calories from animal proteins, fats, and presumably the glycogen stored in their prey’s muscle tissue and liver. They are not well adapted to diets that are rich in starches and other carbohydrates.

It wasn’t until recently that I fully understood the negative impact of feeding a diet that is high in starches (i.e. the typical commercial dog or cat food).

For the past year or two, I’ve kept myself on a mostly raw-food diet (~ 80% raw, 20% cooked). I feel really good when I eat this way; I feel lighter, cleaner, and both calmer and more energised.

But it does take some adjustments in the way I shop and prepare my food. Being the lazy bum that I am, sooner or later I end up slacking off and, to some extent, reverting back to my former way of eating, which is more cooked foods than raw.

When that happens, I start feeling crummy again; I feel heavy, gummy, tired, achey, and grumpy. I wake up in the morning feeling unrested, touchy, sad, and stiff & sore, as if I’m a sickly 80 years old; and I drink lots of fluids, but my skin still seems dehydrated. I even woke up one morning with that line from Garth Brooks’ rodeo song playing in my head: “I’m too damn young to feel this damn old!”

So, this last time I decided to not only recommit to eating mostly raw foods, but to also make a little study of what starchy foods do to my body. I’d remembered hearing some (older) veterinary colleagues discussing their own health issues and one recommending a starch-free diet; and as I said, I’ve been recommending to dog and cat owners for years to take starchy foods out of their pets’ diets. But I was still eating some starchy foods (primarily bread) myself.

Here’s what happened when I stopped eating bread, rice, pasta, and other cooked starches: within 2 or 3 days I felt good again on my mostly-raw diet; and whenever I would break down and buy a sandwich for lunch, I’d start to feel crummy within a couple of hours, and on into the next day. I’ve “tested” the effects several times now, all with the same result. (By the way, I’m having no trouble with sprouted grains eaten raw; just with cooked grains.)

Why is that? Is it because the readily digestible starches are creating large swings in blood glucose (big peaks followed by big drops)? Or is it because some portion of the starch makes it to the large intestine and messes with the microflora there, which has systemic effects on the host (me)? Is there also an effect on the immune system? (With something like 70% of the immune system's cells embedded in the lining of the gut - the gut-associated lymphoid tissue - that certainly must be considered.) I’m not sure exactly.

All I know for sure is this: when I eat a lot of cooked starches, I feel bad. And it’s no stretch for me to correlate what I’m feeling in my own body, with regard to physical symptoms, mood, and energy, with what I see in my patients on commercial dog or cat food diets.

The lesson: feed a species-appropriate diet of fresh, minimally processed foods. For dogs and cats, that means mostly animal sources, and little or no starch. More on feeding dogs and cats in future posts. In the meantime, here’s the link to an article I wrote on how I feed my own dog: www.animavet.com/feedingdogs.html.

(And here’s another on feeding horses: http://www.animavet.com/feedinghorses.html.)

Stay tuned...

Dr. Chris King

Nature's Apprentice

www.animavet.com

Intro, cont'd (part II)

My local Whole Foods store is located right across the street from the regional hospital. I was sitting in the cafe area at Whole Foods one day, looking out onto the hospital’s shiny new building, when the paradox represented by those two edifices started to seep into my awareness and the most astonishing thought occurred to me:

We are the only species that, as a matter of course, goes to someone else to fix us when we’re ill or injured.

(It also occurred to me that if we ate a more wholesome diet, we’d need hospitals less, but I'll get to that later.)

Here we are, with these marvelous bodies that are inherently designed to be self-maintaining and self-repairing, and innately wise, and yet most of the time we have absolutely no idea how to take good care of ourselves. (Or we do know, but we just don’t do it...) We seem to live in constant need of the advice of one expert or another, just to do something that the “lower orders,” wild animals especially, instinctively know how to do.

As our societies have evolved, we’ve fragmented ourselves into two groups: the healers/shamans/doctors, and everybody else. We’ve even created an aura of mystique around the knowledge and abilities of those we’ve designated “healers.” (And if you think that sort of superstition is limited to the more simplistic indiginous cultures, then consider the power of the white coat in modern medicine.)

In essence, we’ve abandoned our innate knowledge and ability to sense what our bodies need in order to get and stay well, and we’ve abdicated that responsibility to someone outside ourselves. Often to our immediate benefit (which keeps us doing it), but ultimately to our individual and collective detriment. We’ve forgotten how to be, and how to take good care of ourselves.

Of course, if I have a broken leg, I would be very appreciative of someone x-raying it for me and stabilising the fracture (not to mention dispensing some sort of pain-reliever), rather than me having to hobble around like a wounded gazelle until the bone heals or I die of an ensuing infection, predation, or starvation. I don’t want to belittle the contributions of modern medicine in dealing with medical emergencies. Where it falls down, however, is in the treatment of chronic medical conditions and in maintaining good health for life.

We've even forgotten what good health looks like - and feels like. More on that next.

Stay tuned...

Dr. Chris King

Nature's Apprentice

www.animavet.com

Intro, cont'd

A strange thing has been happening to me over the past year or so. I seem to have been hijacked (for want of a better word) by the natural world—and I don’t mind a bit!  From where I sit, conventional medicine and the scientific paradigm that underlies it continues to be constricted and contorted into the uninspired, inanimate, and rather ruthless “evidence-based medicine” model of practice, a kind of  “medicine by numbers.” Even many of my holistically inclined colleagues have been sucked into playing the Science game, or at least playing by Science’s rules. Whoda thunkit, but the science geeks have become the bullies on the playground!

I find myself inexorably drawn in the opposite direction. It’s as if green tendrils have reached out to me from some place beyond my sight, wrapped themselves around me, and are now drawing me to... I’m not sure what, but I think it’s an apprenticeship with Nature. So, that’s me, the person in the title: Nature’s Apprentice.

Don’t get me wrong; I have nothing against science as an approach. In fact, for a long time I was “Science Girl,” complete with the white cape (aka the lab coat). I have an innate mental propensity for the sciences, my entire formal education emphasised the sciences, and the profession I chose is one in which scientific method, currently labelled evidence-based medicine, is considered the standard of practice. So, I’m very comfortable with the scientific approach. I speak the language, I know the terrain. And I will forever be fascinated by how bodies work, in all their amazing and intricate cellular and biochemical detail. I simply object to the concept of science being the only way of seeing and operating sanely in the world. In a way, Science reminds me of the one-eyed man: In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.

Now, doesn’t that perfectly epitomise where we so often find ourselves when it comes to matters of health: feeling completely and utterly blind, and in desperate need of someone to tell us what to do? You’ll find any number of people - well-meaning and otherwise - who are only too willing to do that. What I’d like to do in this book/blog is try to help you regain your own sight. Begin your own apprenticeship with Nature.

Stay tuned...

Dr. Chris King

Nature's Apprentice

www.animavet.com