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               First person account of an IPT session...

        Insulin Potentiation Therapy is not just a treatment.  It is an experience, a journey.

        Thousands of patients have taken this journey.  

        Many patients have had their health restored from ailments small and large.  With IPT, many have danced past the dire and gloomy  predictions of other doctors, to live years of gracious, happy life.

        Not all patients have had their disease respond to the IPT treatments, although all have had a safe and gentle experience.  Some patients with advanced-stage disease have died while under the care of an IPT doctor, but most of these patients have lived longer, and with higher quality of life than regular medicine promised.  

        Read the stories of IPT patients on this website.  Read the expressions of gratitude from patients who have found not only hope, but deliverance from their afflictions.  Donna, for example, who was dying from advanced breast cancer, and is now healthier and more radiant than ever before.

        It must be a thrill to be an IPT doctor who experiences such successes for his or her patients.  The "medicine of hope", as Dr. Paquette called it.  The "medicine of joy", according to Dr. SGA.  
And I call it the "medicine of dreams"...

 

 


The office building


Dr. Perez Garcia 3 and staff

        Here is what it is like to have an IPT treatment, based on my own experience...  [The photos are of another patient!]

        From San Diego, I drive to the border on Interstate 5.  I park in the lot behind McDonald's, only $5 for the whole day.  I cross the street and climb the winding ramp up and over the border, then walk past Mexican immigration and customs officers to the road where I catch a cab.  

        The cab takes me to Dr. Donato's office in Tijuana.  It is in a very modern high rise building in a prosperous section of the city.  I take the elevator to the 15th floor, and find suite 1503.  I am greeted by the pleasant receptionist, who is bilingual in Spanish and English.  I sit in the waiting room with a few other people.

        

        Soon I am shown through the door and back to Dr. Donato's office.  It is small, simple, and pleasant.  On the wall are many diplomas and certificates, and pictures of his grandfather, Dr. Perez Garcia 1, who discovered IPT.  Dr. Donato welcomes me and I sit down.  Behind his desk is a panoramic view of Tijuana, San Ysidro, and San Diego beyond.

        We engage in a conversation about my health condition.  He takes a careful history and examines all the documents, x-rays, test results, etc., that I have brought with me.  He explains to me how he thinks his therapy, IPT, might be able to help, and, when I ask, explains in more detail his treatment strategy, and how long he thinks treatment could take.  He schedules my first treatment for the next morning, and requests that I eat nothing after 10 pm.

        The next morning I show up around 9 am, only slightly hungry from missing breakfast.   A nurse shows me into one of the treatment rooms.  It has a bed, a bedside table, and an IV bag rack.  An IV bag is ready for me.  A tray of syringes, drugs in bottles, and some pills in a cup is waiting on the table, along with a cup of water and a bottle of Gatorade .  The bed is made with crisp sheets, big pillows, and a pink blanket.  
      The nurse asks me to undress and put on a hospital gown.  She goes out and pulls the partition closed.  I get into the bed and get comfortable.  She comes back in and  skillfully finds a vein in my arm, inserts a needle and tapes it down, and starts the intravenous drip from the bag on the rack.
        Dr. Donato comes in and greets me cheerfully, asks how I am feeling, and tells a little joke.  It is time to begin the treatment.  He takes one of the syringes and injects it into the IV port on my arm.  It is the insulin.  With a marking pen he writes the time on the IV bag.  He tells me to just relax, and he leaves to see another patient.
        After about 5 minutes, the nurse comes and has me take the pills in the cup, with water.  
        A few minutes later, Dr. Donato returns, asks how I am doing, asks me to roll to the side, and discreetly injects me in the behind with two medications.  Just rest, he says.

        Ten more minutes, no change in how I feel.  Five more minutes, no change.  Either the nurse or Dr. Donato come in to see me every few minutes.

        At about 25 minutes after insulin injection, I am starting to feel the effects.  A little more hungry, a little more thirsty.  Very gradually the symptoms increase.  More hunger and thirst, and now my heart is beating a little faster.  A few more minutes and I start to sweat.  The voices in the hallway start to sound funny, distant.  I'm starting to feel far away, even when I talk with Dr. Donato.  He has observed this process thousands of times, but still he is paying very close attention to me.  

        I am starting to sweat.  Just a few more minutes, he says.  The room seems lighter but dimmer, grayer, as I see greenish golden light swim across my visual field.  My heartbeat feels stronger than normal...  The voices sound muffled.  I feel drowsy and comfortable, relaxed and floating, privileged to be ushered into this wonderful mystery, loved and safe and cared for. I feel fortunate and grateful to have such a blessing.   I'm hardly aware of when anyone enters or leaves the room, and I can't really carry on a clear conversation any more.  Not enough mental clarity or energy or dexterity in my mouth.  I'd rather stare at the ceiling, or close my eyes....

        I am sweating a lot now, and feeling hot.   The "therapeutic moment" has arrived.  

        Dr. Donato injects a number of medication syringes into the IV port on my arm, and then he injects a very large syringe of glucose into the IV bag, and increases the drip rate.  

 

        Then he takes the top off the Gatorade bottle and hands it to me.  Nothing ever tasted so good.  With more hunger and thirst than I can ever remember having, I suck it down as though it were the elixir of everlasting life, savoring the taste, the wetness, the sweetness of every drop.

 

        Quickly the hypoglycemia symptoms disappear.  My sight clears and voices start sounding normal and intelligible.  I can converse again.  My heartbeat feels normal.  I'm not hot any more, and the sweat soaked into the sheets and gown begins to feel slightly cool.  I do wish that I had a second bottle of Gatorade, though...

        When the IV bag is empty, the nurse removes the IV needle and has me hold a cotton swab over the puncture in my skin for a few minutes.  I relax and enjoy the little room with the big view for a while.  

        When I'm ready, feeling normal again, I put on my clothes and go see Dr. Donato in his office.  He asks me about my symptoms.  Much improved!  He gives me instructions for the rest of the day:  a light lunch and dinner, without spicy or fatty foods.  And he gives me a prescription for medications to take until my next treatment.

        I am feeling great, but I am still ravenously hungry.  Dr. Donato sends me off with a smile, and suggests that I go to the Frutigurt shop on the second floor, and ask for a big fruit salad "con todo" (with everything).   I float out of the office and take the elevator down, feeling like I have been on a long vacation and am just now returning to normal life.  

        Down at the yogurt shop  I wonder if the young women at the counter notice that I am ordering the fruit salad as though I were a food addict in a state of maximum craving.  They smile a lot.  Maybe they recognize the symptoms of yet another ravenous post-IPT patient of Dr. Donato.  I can hardly wait, as I watch each wonderful ingredient of the "con todo" is added to the succulent fruit.  "Do you want this?" she asks.  Yes!  "And do you want this?" YES!!

        Finally the fruit salad is ready.  I indulge and gorge myself.  Food has NEVER tasted this good in my whole life...

        I get my prescription filled at the pharmacy a few doors away, then go out of the building and catch a cab to the border.  [Caution:  be sure to check current US customs regulations before buying medications and taking them across the border.]   My car is waiting for me, and so is the rest of my life.

 

 

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