The Western medical system is ignorant, arrogant, and myopic. There. I said it. I hope I can still get into a hospital after this…
I’m not faulting the people in the system here. Doctors, nurses, and specialists. They all work very hard and are in it for the right reasons. I’m not even blaming ‘big pharma’. I’m very glad that medications exist to alleviate symptoms.
But they’re a band aid that don’t address the root cause of disease.
When I break my leg I want a hospital and a workaholic surgeon. That’s where Western medicine shines. Ambulances, hospitals, and surgery.
But when it’s about situations that are smoldering, long-term, or idiopathic (a disease having no known cause), the system loses its utility. Treatments and medications are often prescribed without looking at lifestyle factors. In many cases leading to a long path of deterioration, on pills, with side effects. There’s a better way.
Chronic
I wasn’t doing so well five years ago. My asthma and eczema were at an all time high. I was on multiple serious medications that made my skin see-through and my lungs weak. These were very necessary to make sure that I could breathe at all and not rip the skin of my body from itching.
My army of doctors and specialists all told me; these illnesses were chronic. ‘Sometimes people will grow out of it, but if not, you’re going to be on medications for the rest of your life.’
When a medication stopped working or had too heavy side effects, they worked hard to find different medications. Treating the symptoms as best they could. Making my skin burn in yet new and surprising ways. They were all trying to make my life better, but they didn’t.
At what felt as my lowest point, I suddenly had a vision (no clouds were parting, I just had an idea) of how things could be different. It was the first time I started asking questions.
Was there something I myself could do about my health? I’m a good researcher, what if I use those skills to scour the internet for solutions other people found for their asthma and eczema?
What could be the cause of these illnesses?
This turned out to be the best question I could have ever asked.
When I went back to my GP and asked him how I could improve my health, he said (I’m not kidding): ‘For health, you don’t go to a doctor.’
After walking out disheartened and a little maddened I realized that, sadly, he was right. Medical practitioners are trained to diagnose diseases and treat symptoms. They are well-trained to deal with acute and life threatening situations.
Chronic disease then means: ‘we don’t know’. We can treat the symptoms, but that’s it. We don’t know how it works, what drives it, what the possible causes are. And we don’t know how you can improve.
So good luck and all the best! (sound of a door slamming shut and a cold wind rising)
Enter: Functional Medicine
So nobody knows how disease starts? And how to reverse it and get healthy?
Turns out there are some people working on this. Functional medicine (FM), a relatively new field, looks for the underlying causes of disease. They’re asking these questions. What could be the root cause of disease and how could personal choices have an impact on your health and wellbeing? And they’re finding some answers.
The most important difference between conventional Western medicine and FM is the realization that:
Naming a disease tells us nothing about what’s causing it.
When a person is feeling sad and hopeless we might call that depression. But this is just a name we give to a certain set of symptoms. We still don’t know anything about what’s causing this set of symptoms. A name doesn’t constitute knowledge.
Feynman’s father
We all need to learn this lesson that Richard Feynman learned from his father:
The next Monday we were playing in a field, and a kid said to me, “What’s that bird? Do you know the name of that bird?” I said, “I haven’t the slightest idea.” He said, “Well, it is a brown‑throated thrush.” He said, “Your father doesn’t teach you anything.”
But my father had already taught me about the names of birds. Once we walked, and he said, “That is a brown-throated thrush. In German it is called the Pfleegel flügel. In Chinese it is called Keewontong. In Japanese a Towhatowharra”, and so on.
And when you know all the names of that bird in every language, you know nothing, but absolutely nothing, about the bird. And then we would go on and talk about the pecking and the feathers. So I had learned already that names don’t constitute knowledge.
Language is amazing. By sending sound waves through the air or drawing symbols on a piece of paper, we’re able to share our thoughts with other humans.
But words have their limitations.
Giving something a name is inherently reductionistic. The whole, complex, real-world thing is reduced to a sound or symbol.
This is incredibly useful if we want to point to that thing. So others know what we’re talking about.
But knowing the name of something (like an illness) doesn’t mean that you know anything about it.
Your own research
This lesson taught me to be skeptical, especially of people who know lots of names (or diseases). It also gave me permission to do my own research. Even into complex topics that feel daunting.
Through stumbling upon the field of FM I discovered that a disease is not the endpoint of research. It’s the starting point.
So I started researching. Diving deeper into ‘lifestyle medicine’ I figured out that there is a lot I could improve about my lifestyle. And I did.
I radically changed my diet. Improved my sleep habits. I started meditating, taking cold showers, and exercising.
I’m definitely doing a lot better now, after five years of researching and experimenting my way to better mental and physical health. But I’m not there yet. And while I’m still improving, I’m glad to have access to medication and a hospital. Hopefully…