Bawk, Bawk! Fuzz and DNA Methylation: My Applied Kinesiology Experiment at 15 Months

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How quickly time passes while you’re waiting for hair to grow! It’s already been two months since my last appointment with Doc. Here’s the update.

When I walk in, Doc’s clearly forgotten the full impact of the implosion. He looks a shade past stunned when I stroll in with no makeup, no wig and no eyebrows, either. I hardly notice, though, because when he asks how things are going, I excitedly relay the news, which I’m hoping he’ll confirm today: I think I feel the tiniest bits of baby-chicken fuzz on the back of my head again, in (most of) the places where I’d had it late last summer/early fall, until the previously mentioned implosion. (If there is anything, it’s vellus hair, which is the tiny, clear fuzz that many babies have. Peaches, too. Actually, I think peaches have something else entirely but it feels like that.)

I tell him I think this is great, even if it doesn’t become “real” hair.

Although he doesn’t ask, I tell him why I think it’s great: Because even if it falls out, it’s the second time in less than a year that something’s seemed to sprout a bit there. Meaning that maybe something (aka, hair follicles) are still kicking (or gently flicking, at least). It’s like seeing a tree that’s been apparently dead for more than a decade sprout new buds on its branches–even if they don’t become leaves, at least you know it’s not quite dead. Cheery!

Clearly, though, he also had something bigger to discuss than fuzz.

In the world of alopecia areata and its ilk, what could be bigger than fuzz, you ask?

Something purely Frankensteinian, or so it seems when it’s your body (aka, mine) that’s at the base of the experiments.

He shows me a complex map of something that wouldn’t have been any more legible or comprehensible even if I’d had my glasses on. Along with it he explains his new theory, one he’s been researching for a while and that, he says, he’s tried on others with success. (Others? There are others willing to give their flesh to these experiments???)

He tells me that while I’m doing everything right, we still haven’t quite cracked this nut, and it could be a genetic glitch. (Well, then, forget about cracking this nut, Doc, I’m heading home to crack open the 15-year-old bottle of Scotch we got over the holidays, because there’s nothing we can do about genes, Doc. Wait, not so fast, he says.)

With this glitch, there’s something (or something missing) that causes an insurmountable roadblock. Like if you’re going up to the roof of your house but the middle rungs on the ladder are missing…or if you’ve taken the right route to cross over a river but there’s no bridge. See?

And, from what I understand but haven’t had a chance to really research on the interwebs yet, DNA methylation is the smooth functioning of the genetic material and when something happens that causes the process to fall apart, autoimmune issues can arise. And there are ways to treat this that can help mend the breaks (or replace the missing rungs or bridge, to use the earlier examples). These don’t permanently alter DNA, but they enable things to flow smoothly, thereby possibly helping to correct issues that otherwise could/should have resolved, had rungs and bridges not been missing.

YOW-ZA!!

To find out if this is my glitch, I’ll need to do a simple genetic test, which then gets sent for mapping.

It’s the first time that I hesitate when Doc suggests trying something.

Since I had to get right to work after the appointment, I haven’t had time yet to really explore this. The one thing I did find, however, was an article from the National Institutes of Health (aka, NIH, aka, federal health agency, if you’re not familiar with it). I only had time to read the summary of this study, but it actually pointed to promising positive outcomes related to DNA methylation in regard to lupus-like symptoms (in mice, I think it was), with further studies to be done on that and other autoimmune issues.

Hmmm. Okay.

I’ll do some homework over the next week and keep you posted. In the meantime, I’ll read any and all info I can find, and likely submit myself to this next batch of bodybusiness.

Cheers, all, thanks for reading! (And thanks to Toni Cuenca, via Pexels.com, for the fabulous photo.)

{Note: These are my own experiences with applied kinesiology, which clearly aren’t meant as medical advice for anyone else. But I know a lot of friends and family members are grappling with a huge variety of autoimmune issues and other ailments, so I’m happy to share my experiences. And if this is your first visit and you’d like to follow chronologically, click here. Otherwise, enjoy!}