My 13-year-old son was diagnosed with autoimmune encephalitis. For anyone unfamiliar with the disease, it causes swelling of the brain, neurological seizures and even hallucinations. In my son’s case, that manifested itself as obsessive-compulsive thoughts that nothing was real, that he was alone in a void imagining everything happening to him and that God was punishing him for being a terrible person.
So, in other words, a waking nightmare and there were times every day when he’d be screaming, crying hysterically, kicking and punching at the air, yelling for it to stop. We, of course, tried everything. And I’ll spare you the list.
Nothing seemed to help much, including the PEMF at first. But he was doing it sporadically at best, skipping weeks or even months at a time. Which we made the mistake of letting go – mostly because his whole life was doctor’s appointments and pills and treatments and it sort of fell off our radar until three months ago or so. He was getting a bit better but he’d plateaued and we felt like we were at a bit of a dead end again, having exhausted every resource we could think of. So, we decided to give the PEMF another go. This time we were vigilant about it and, regardless of the pushback, we made him get on the mat at least twice a day for 15 minutes at a time.
It wasn’t overnight – in fact, it took over a month before we noticed the first signs of improvement – but the treatment transformed him. His symptoms all reduced in frequency and intensity before, finally, almost disappearing. And at the end of August, for the first time in a year-and-a-half, he went back to school. Something I wouldn’t have dreamed was possible as recently as two months ago.
I’m not ready to exhale yet. And he still has mild symptoms. But I honestly feel like the PEMF may have saved his life. Or at the very least, helped give him his life back.