After I was diagnosed with myasthenia gravis, I began to look back to find out why I had that autoimmune disease in the first place
I knew it was stress that triggered the onset of my myasthenia gravis, but it was by no means the only cause. I knew if I did not have it then, I would probably have it further down the road. It was just a matter of time—only at that time I was not aware that I had the problem all along. I was carrying a ticking time-bomb all ready to explode on me.
Now as I look back, I think it was a blessing in disguise. Everything happens in one’s life with a divine purpose. In a way, I was grateful that I had the illness—which has changed my life forever and for the better. For one thing, without my myasthenia gravis, I would not have written this book, and many other books on health and healing. For another, my myasthenia gravis was a self-awakening for me. Often times in life, it would take a crisis of some sort for self-enlightenment. My myasthenia gravis was a wakeup call for me: it initiated my passionate pursuit of health and healing in my life. To me, my myasthenia gravis was indeed a blessing in disguise—a misfortune that I have to be thankful for.
I did not blame anyone or anything for my illness, nor did I have any regret. I totally accepted my fate. Recognition and acceptance of one’s conditions is the first positive step towards natural healing. Denial and despair, on the other hand, would only be roadblocks to self-healing and recovery. I was determined to find out the causes of my health problems. I wanted to know why I was struck down with myasthenia gravis.
Initially, I was confused and befuddled: Why did I get sick? For the past several decades, my health had been good, if not excellent—or so I thought. All those years prior to my myasthenia gravis, I had been quite health conscious in matters of foods and drinks; I had never been hospitalized all my life, and before the onset of my myasthenia gravis, I seldom paid a visit to the doctor. I had been having a clean bill of health up until then.
So, what was wrong with me? I began to do some soul-searching.
Unlike most other kids, I did not have chicken pox until I was a teenager. That was a telltale sign that my immune system was different from that of others, or at least not as good as I thought it was. There was something amiss, but I did not know exactly what it was and I could not put a finger on it.
Then I recalled that when I was a child, I had been constantly bed-ridden with fever and coughing—my mother always worried that I could get infections from other kids, or worse, I would not live long.
I remember I never liked green vegetables and fish—which I would gobble up, stuff them in my mouth, and then spit them out as soon as I got out of the house. That was how bad I was.
As I stepped into my teens, my health conditions suddenly and significantly improved. In fact, all my symptoms of ill health disappeared soon after I had my chicken pox at the age of thirteen or fourteen. The experience of my chicken pox was excruciating, but it seemed to have changed my health conditions completely for the better. Ever since then, I had not had any major physical ailment, except I was still susceptible to the common cold—which I overdosed myself with over-the-counter cold medications. I did not know that all these years I had been shuffling toxins into my body!
There was another episode during my young adulthood. I was involved in some artwork, which required me to make some fiberglass from newspapers by pouring some chemical solution over them. On one occasion, I accidentally mixed some toxic chemicals, giving out some toxic fume. After inhaling it, I passed out for some minutes, and felt sick for the entire day. In addition, my regular exposure to toxic chemicals in my artwork through inhalation must have further damaged my immune system.
Nevertheless, for many decades, I had enjoyed relatively good health—or so I thought.
In my late forties, I had shingles—which was another red flag that there was something wrong with my immune system. However, I did not pay much attention to that episode.
In my mid fifties, the stress in my life eventually triggered the onset of my myasthenia gravis, which was the outcome of my over-stressed immune system and my toxic body.
Copyright© 2018 by Stephen Lau