Left Leg

I live in a small, isolated city called Darwin in the Australian tropics. One morning five years ago, I noticed a boil-like swelling on my left shin, which turned into a spreading blister that caused my skin to fail. Although it was not painful it just would not heal. I was very busy with work and a Subud congress, so I applied long-life waterproof dressings that allowed me to ignore the wound.

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Some weeks later, I was jolted out of my lethargy by hearing on the radio that those with tropical ulcers were amongst the high-risk group for catching AIDS. My GP was very laid-back and didn't seem concerned when my wound hadn't healed after two courses of antibiotics. I was now worried and switched to an Indian doctor who didn't wear shoes but had a reputation for being good with skin complaints. Dr Ramdoss was amiable, but sightly unnerved me by mentioning that everyone made mistakes. He prescribed more antibiotics. When this only slightly improved my wounds, he referred me to a specialist. These visits were excruciating as the specialist cleaned my wounds with tweezers. Thankfully, a higher dose of the same antibiotic healed my leg. We were both relieved that biopsies and skin grafts had not been necessary.

The whole experience rocked me a bit. I had taken my skin for granted. It had taken five months to heal what was only a small spider bite. I undertook to go to the doctor straight away if anything like this should happen to me again. The wound area remained fragile and dry for three years and a scar serves as a reminder of the ordeal.

Right Leg

In November 2001, to my horror, I spied a boil-like swelling on my right shin. It appeared after gardening at the Subud hall. We all agreed it was most likely a spider bite. This time I went to see Dr Ramdoss immediately and he plied me with antibiotic cream and pills - two courses each of Bactramicin and Eryacne. Neither cured my wound, and both made me feel very lethargic.
Alas, I had built up a resistance to the antibiotics that had cured my left leg and the wounds prospered. So I tried a medicated honey, which is good for tropical ulcers; but alas, the honey had crystallized and the sharp crystals cut the skin around the wound to ribbons. Now I tried a poultice of green French clay, 1 which has antiseptic and anti-inflammatory properties and strongly draws poison out. Initially, it did reduce the swelling and the amount of weeping. However, the sore then went through a 2-3 day cycle of scabbing and healing and weeping skin failure. There was a nasty persistent infection inside.

Zarna

Now I was very concerned. We were on the eve of leaving for a holiday and so I tried a homeopath called Zarna Carter, of whom we had heard good reports. Her homeopathic and herbal remedies stabilised my condition on the trip. On holiday I swam in the sea when I could; this seemed to help. The sore remained an uncomfortable inconvenience. In Canberra we stayed with my brother-in-law Maxwell Fraval, who is an osteopath.
My leg appalled him, and he prescribed light therapy, [2] which appeared to work wonders and cleared up the wound almost completely. We also received in testing that we should move south to Canberra. However, on my return to Darwin the cycle of weeping sores came back, and the wound area grew. Alas, the light therapy had not cured the infection inside the leg.
I went back to Zarna, who suggested 10g a day of vitamin C to eliminate the poison in my system and Calendula cream for the wound. The cream worked well initially but then hurt for hours after each application. The wound was becoming sensitised. By now the leg had started swelling with oedema, so I used pressure bandages and non-stick wound pads whilst at work. This gave the wound some protection from slight knocks, which had started to become painful. It was ulcerating but thankfully not necrotic. I was starting to feel rather helpless; my surrender in latihan brought me no clear indications.
By May the right leg had started to hurt at night, and I needed painkillers to sleep. Now my leg was the subject of widespread concern amongst friends and acquaintances. Sadly, none of the recommended doctors were taking on new patients. What a challenge it was to find a good GP in this town! A retired pharmacist said it might have been a green jumping spider, since one had given him a nasty bite. The problem had not been the venom, but the secondary infection and the liquefying enzymes and bacteria that came with the bite. I racked my brain for who might help remembered a medical research doctor, called John, who suggested I see Dr Bart Curry. Bart was a world-class specialist in tropical venomous bites. John also said that there might be no clear answer about such a bite and that progress would probably be slow.
I got the referral for Curry, and Ramdoss mentioned that my wound pathology results came back positive for golden staph and strep. Ramdoss prescribed antibiotics for the staph; however, I never took them, preferring the reliable homeopathic cure instead. I saw no point in telling Ram doss this. Back again to Zarna for homeopathic remedies for staph and strep as well as for the sensitivity, pain and infection. [3] Zarna gave me support whenever I called and her remedies came with love. She commented that my wounds looked syphilitic and that I should look into this and gave me a remedy for a syphilitic miasm. Since both my legs were now swollen with oedema, I kept the compression bandages on all day and at night when necessary. I was relieved when the pathology results came back clear for staph and strep and that the wound continued to shrink with the Bactroban.
In mid-May, two raised tender red patches on the left leg appeared and were slow to heal. Zarna thought this was poison from the first bite coming out four years later, in response to the homeopathics. The antibiotic 'cure' would not have completely cured the original bite. The right leg and foot remained very sensitive and were excruciating if knocked - enough to make me feel nauseous.
In June I got more Bactroban ointment and was still taking the Apis in the hope it would help the painful oedema. While the swelling was almost continuous, the wound was painful when I applied the cream. My legs remained very tender and the bones in my feet ached from the pressure of the bandage. I was concerned about the swelling causing more permanent damage. On some mornings I felt almost normal upon waking, but the pressure built-up in my foot soon re-emerged. Walks during the day now became too painful because the heat exacerbated the swelling.

Dr Bart Curry

In mid-June I saw the tropical bite specialist Dr Bart Curry, who didn't think it was a spider bite because I hadn't seen the spider; he said to discontinue all topical creams, and the wound would heal. My high hopes of Bart were sinking; he had a very literal perspective and only believed what he could see and touch. His training was the basis of his complete disbelief at merits of homeopathy. Bart referred me to Sarah, an occupational therapist, who gave me compression stockings. She was very kind and said to call her if I ever got desperate. Sarah saw legs all the time, but - like everyone else - had never seen a wound quite like mine.
In late June I flew round South Australia for my work and completed an application for a senior job in Canberra. The leg was very painful, and the wounds enlarged. I wasn't sure about discontinuing the Bactroban. My legs got very swollen after the flight home, so for two days I had to put double stockings on to reduce the swelling. I resorted to antiseptic cream under the bandage to reduce the pain to bearable levels. My whole body blew up in spots. Some were triggered by wine with dinner. My life was slowly but surely contracting.

Peter Fraser

My friend Maxwell Fraval rang, and suggested I contact an acupuncturist in Queensland who used quantum medicine.[4] Peter Fraser had a good reputation for curing difficult cases like mine. I sent Peter saliva and wound samples for DNA analysis and received an impressive 33-page report, which revealed that I had a very complex disease with two unidentifiable double-stranded viruses in the wound as well as heavy metal contamination in my bones and tissue memory of past shock.
He sent a homeopathic remedy designed to correct the errors in my body-field and also suggested I take fish oil, vitamins A, C and E, iron, zinc and kelp. The results were dramatic - the wound stabilised. I continued to send monthly samples to Peter, who reported that the viruses were continually mutating and seemed invisible to my immune system causing 'failure of viral I was at last open to look at the inner issues awaiting me. We did much inner exploration over immunity'. The wound was affecting my whole system - even my testosterone was low. It was amazing what he could get from a saliva sample. Peter said my spots were a detox reaction and would stop in due course. I shared Peter's reports with my GP, Dr Lauffer, who said it was mostly experimental and unproven. Nevertheless, he agreed that since it was having a beneficial effect, it was better to continue with Peter.
I reached my low point in the early hours of the July and August mornings, as I lay awake in great pain. After a latihan I felt OK inside; it was just my body hurting. I seldom woke my wife Irma, as she was by now running the house and family as well as working. I took painkillers and usually got to sleep by four in the morning. My legs and feet were now hypersensitive, and it was so excruciating to get up at night that Irma put a bucket under my bed. I had grown to dread my dressing changes. It was so hard, so painful to wash, and the wound exudation smelt so awful - imagine blood left out in tropical heat for three days. My leg looked so bad it often made me cry. I tested my attitude to my leg and I should love it, wound and all - this was difficult. · My daughter Tessy called it 'Dad's festy leg'. By now I was in a separate bedroom because of my insomnia. My world was shrinking further.

Dr Gawler

I got desperate and called Sarah, who made me an appointment with a foot specialist, Dr David Gawler. David was gentle and was responsive to my suggestions; he called me his mystery patient because my wounds were so unusual.
I now became slowly aware of a large number of people who had horrible wounds like mine. In most cases conventional medicine had been of little use. It was not unusual for those afflicted to have a year off work. I discovered an acquaintance whose leg had been ulcerated for three years. She had rejected five skin grafts and endured sixty-five hyperbaric treatments. She had now resorted to the medicated honey despite the agony. We live in a place where there is insufficient medical knowledge of the multitude of tropical bugs.
While I trailed up to the hospital to see David every three weeks and Bart every eight weeks, I still went to my GP. Dr Lauffer mentioned a custom vaccine to fight the viruses in my wound - easy to get in Europe, but a forgotten art in Australia with its culture of drug-based medicine. Lauffer said an equivalent alternative was to make a nosode, a homeopathic remedy from a wound sample. I sent a wound sample to Claire, the closest homeopath with this expertise, who was in Brisbane 3,000 km away. My hopes sank as the nosode failed to cure me. I suspect that it wasn't able to keep up with the mutating viruses. During this time I was grateful for the latihans for the sick my family did for me, which lifted my spirits.
I preferred the health centre for my wound dressings, I dreaded the rough hospital nurses - my wounds were so sensitive. I discovered the bliss of saline to wash a wound, as it didn't hurt like the shower. The centre nurses were gentle and we experimented with dressings which took a few weeks to get right. As my wounds evolved, we went through the dressing catalogue with some successes and some failures. In the end I was allocated to the head wound-nurse and the dressings became more and more gentle as they understood my wounds. My wounds rejoiced in the delights of Algisite, Allevyn, Fixomol, Jelonet, Profore and Zipzoc. I learned how to apply a figure eight bandage that wouldn't slip down my leg during the day.
By now my blood had been tested for almost every disease, sexually transmitted or otherwise, known to medicine. While I hated the idea of anyone cutting into me, I now consented to some biopsies. The surgeon was very gentle and we had a laugh together about his needlework. The results all came back negative. Bart then photographed my spots and sent them to another specialist, who came up with yet another blank. I seemed on my own again - back to the latihan.

Inner exploration

My life had come to a halt. I had neither the energy to look for a job in Canberra, nor could I work. I was not even well enough to go on a weekend with my daughter to photograph boab trees. I had reached a state where I was willing to do anything to move forward. I was at last open to look at the inner issues awaiting me. We did much inner exploration over he next three months. Peter Fraser reported that my tissue still had memory of the shock from my broken back when I was eighteen, so we did a special latihan to rectify this. Irma felt that I was carrying a great weight and I received that my insomnia was partly due to the sadness of my grandfather, for whom we did a special latihan. I felt light and happy after this.
After reading a fascinating book called Radical Healing, [5] we investigated the extent of the unresolved emotional damage in me. That was enough to keep us busy for a while. We did work on my brain, my memory and my level of surrender. We received that my leg reflected a lack of faith as well as fear. Following this thread, I discovered that I did not have a clear idea of who 'Harry' is. Having dispatched two grandparents, I found another lodged on my left shoulder, where he had always comfortably been. I managed to send him home after so much crying, so much sadness. But there was more ancestral stuff weighting me down. We found a syphilitic ancestor, as Zarna had suspected, and sent him home. He would not leave until we found someone who could love him. Why did I have to do three generations of ancestral spring-cleaning? Perhaps because it was my job to do this; perhaps I knew this before birth. In any case, now it is done and my kids will not have to deal with this stuff.