Just when I thought the days of suffering through cold symptoms had passed, I sneezed. It wasn’t just any old sneeze; not one brought on by dust in the air or triggered by seasonal allergies. This sneeze echoed the start of yet another cold.

Waking last night to take my DMSA, I felt as if the cold had arrived and started unpacking. The unsettling pressure in my face brought on by sinus congestion, accompanied by the sensation of drainage running down my throat only confirmed it.

I was hoping to experience my first round outside the bubble of illness, but nature has other plans. My only hope is that this cold is much milder than the last.

There’s nothing like getting excited to have your alarm wake you at 7am.

It’s not because I was eager to get to work. Nope. I was excited because that’s when I started my first round of the “Cutler Protocol.” Granted, the dosage is only 12.5 mg of DMSA every four-hours, but it marked the beginning of the process, and that’s huge for me.

It also marked the end of the nearly three-week cold I was battling, which postponed the start of the protocol. Not only can I breath better, I am also relieved knowing that the long wait to begin this process is over.

I have three-doses down, and 15 to go before round one (1) comes to a close. I will post an update as to how the first round went later this week.

The objective was simple: start the DMSA chelation protocol the Monday following my dental amalgam removal. That Monday was two weeks ago, and I am still not chelating. Why is that? Simple; I am slowly overcoming a rather rough head and chest cold.

Am I upset about this unexpected delay? Of course, but what else can I do. I am not about to start a detox protocol that requires my immune system to fire on all cylinders, when in reality seven out of eight are miss-firing. Attempting to do so now would only spread my immune system resources thinner, and I need all that I can get to defeat this cold.

What can I say about mercury toxicity? There’s a good chance that if you are reading this, you too may be suffering from it. It’s not until you have been diagnosed that you realize there is a whole world of people suffering just like you. And while we may not share the same symptoms, there is one thing we most likely do share: we waited a long time for a correct diagnosis.

It all started two years ago. A couple short bouts of double-vision kicked off the festivities, and then came the lack of balance. Walking was a challenge, and I found the best way to ensure I wouldn’t fall was to not stand up.

Then came the short, abrupt and violent attacks of vertigo. Boy will these throw you for a loop! While I am very fortunate that these episodes don’t last too long, they never truly go away. I always have this feeling that the world is moving beneath my feet, and that if I am not paying attention, I can be thrown in any direction without warning.

While some may complain about the ringing in their ears (tinnitus, which I also suffer from) I find the constant, varying levels of ear pressure to be worse. While the tinnitus is definitely distracting, the never-ending feeling of pressure inside my ears is enough to drive one insane.

I also suffer from chronic light intolerance (photophobia). Because of this I never turn on bright lights in my own home, and am forced to always wear a hoody to block out as much peripheral light as possible. The screens on my computer and tablet have the brightness turned all the way down, and even then I have to take breaks when looking at them.

The most annoying symptom is my eyes inability to converge on visual patterns. Anything with fine detail—only made worse with high contrast and/or backlighting—makes me feel miserable. The closer I am to the object, the worse my balance, vertigo and ear symptoms become.

Since becoming ill, I have:

• Seen many doctors from across many different facilities and states
• Consulted with multiple doctors (up to five) under the same specialties to get a second (or more) opinion
• Tried different cocktails of medications
• Experimented with a myriad of supplements
• Completely changed my diet many times over

Up until last month, what was the net result of all of this? Nothing. Sure, I was eating a way more healthful diet, but I was out a lot of money and still felt miserable. That is until a gastroenterologist recommended an M.D. who practiced holistic medicine. Intrigued at the premise of an M.D. practicing holistically, and out of options, I decided to give him a try.

After running tests he found that I had a high amount of mercury in my system, and that he believed my symptoms (as well as the disparate issues shown on different lab results over the last couple of years) were from mercury. He started me on a regimen of supplements and DMSA at 500mg, three days a week, to start the chelation process. Boy, was that rough.

During the first week on that protocol I noticed how much worse I felt. My eyes were even more sensitive to light and patterns, my balance was very fragile and the brain fog left me feeling constantly spaced-out. I wondered if this was a normal reaction, so off to the internet I went.

While researching I came across a different chelation protocol created by chemist Andrew Hall Cutler, PhD. Commonly referred to as the “Cutler Protocol,” when done properly, this low-dose chelation procedure helps you more safely remove heavy metals like mercury from your system with a lower risk of side effects. Intrigued, I purchased Andy’s book “Amalgam Illness: Diagnosis and Treatment” and delved in head first. What I found was the solution I was looking for.

Which leads me to why I am writing to you now. Like many others who have followed the “Cutler Protocol,” I have decided to document my experience for the world to follow. I have found that reading other peoples’ experiences has given me what I was looking for: to know that I am not alone. Sure, I have great family and friends who have offered me support this whole time, but they don’t truly understand what I am experiencing. I have found a great support community online, and I want to add to that dialog in the hope that others may benefit from it.

This isn’t the first long path I have ventured down on my journey to recovery, but my hope is it will be my last.