Mercury fillings takes over you, little by little. Mad hatter disease. Suddenly, it's here, without warning.

Enter Mad-Hatter disease.

The hallucination becomes real. It's frightening. It's skewed logic.

It's 1999 and strange things are happening. To the Sears card, the IRS, and poor ex-husband Dur and the "faggot" incident, something is brewing. But what? 

I was a reporter for The Daily Courier and the Trib in a former life, before the stroke. Five editorial members trekked upstairs to solve the problems...local editoral pieces; school board, low water pressure and ever-present sewage.

I'm making conversation about a gay guy in Mt. Pleasant, a "faggot".

"What a faggot," I exclaimed. Who said that? Me?

 A faggot? It's an pejorative. Where did it come from? In my brain? How in God's name? I like gay guys; they're neat, intellectual and empathic. ("Not that there is anything wrong with that...",I love Seinfeld)  I'm a right-wing liberal; a tree-hugging, save the owls and my philosophy is let and let live. My cohorts are amazed and rolling their eyes. I'm throughly confused. My brain is confused. It's the mercury fillings?

It's a late-spring evening and the tomatoes, zucchini and the peppers are doing quite well. The picnic table's octagon and Dur and I are conversing. The ladybugs, crickets and even the mosquitoes seemed to say it's spring. All of sudden, I blew up. (See? No rhyme or reason.)

I proceeded to tell Dur your daughter and husband were infiltrating the Ku Klux Klan; yes, big hoods, crossings ablaze and chic, polyester, robes. Indeed, I was whacked. Paranoid thoughts? He was dumbfounded. They never heard of KKK, last he heard. Durene was a legal secretary and Bob works in the auto industry, both from Michigan. Nice, nice people. It's the mercury fillings.

The bank called with a courtesy call. I'm underfunded. I wrote a check for Sears to the tune of $250. Somehow, I transposed the two-fifty for Sears for $60 dollars. Sad, but true. I called Dad immediately, explained the situation and Dad loaned the money to the bank. Good ol' Dad. How did I miss that?

The same as the Internal Revenue Service. I transposed the numbers for a $100 dollars, to $200 at tax time. The IRS called me. The IRS, by the way, couldn't be nicer. How did I miss that?

I fixed the checkbook.

Dur was gone June 1999. He fixed a tumbler Chivas Regal, packed his guns (Dur was a hunter) and off he went to wilds of Michigan. He fired up the Ram pick-up-truck and he never looked back. Wise man. Of course he died, clutching his chest, in 2007. 

Meanwhile, I had a catastrophic stroke, December 1999, and that's another story.

Thanks to the dentist in 2006, mercury fillings are gone. No Afib and no panic attacks.

The funky flashes of deja' vous, paranoid behavior and "someone's out to get me" are utterly gone. Again, I'm not a psychologist. I'm sane, (sort of). I'm 68 years old and I can breathe again with no remorse.

It's the mercury fillings...or not? You be the judge.

About the Author - I had a catastrophic stroke 16 years ago. I couldn't talk. For seven years, I pieced-out words.

That's an old picture.

I'm Michaline Yezek Yankowski Schlueter-Schlueter (it's a long story) Roller, thrice divorced and my son is Jeffrey Yankowski. No alimony, thank you very much.  All three guys are the "black sheep", for what it's worth; all three guys were strong and exceedingly powerful mothers. Chercher la mere, it seems.  Frank Yankowski and Dur Roller died of a heart attack, respectively at 57 and 69. Ozzie Schlueter is at large in Beaver Falls, Pa. 

I dropped out at 19 from Maryland Medical Secretary School at Hagerstown. Md. in 1965. I dropped a lot of things, actually, for California State Teacher's College from Pennsylvania, a stint at University of Pittsburgh of Greensburg, Chrysler Institute from  Mount Pleasant, Michigan, Tarrant Junior College at Volkswagen-Fort Worth, Westmoreland County Community College ---a host of colleges. I never finished.

I worked as a medical secretary for two physicians, respectively, one and the other.  I was fired; too long lunch-breaks and never showing up. Doctors hate that. I was a transcriber for medical records in Frick Hospital and Latrobe Hospital in Pennsylvania.  February 1976, Volkswagen Manufacturing came, in New Stanton, Pa. I worked as secretary in personnel, moved up to personnel services-salaried, benefits analyst, and benefits coordinator.

VW-Ft. Worth, Texas, is a teeny hamlet of the plant.  I worked a secretary of personnel and it  was a colorless job. I graduated to Quality Control as a clerk, but it didn't work out.

I worked Chrysler Motors in Sterling Heights, Michigan, as a secretary, and a production foreman, body-in-white.  I built cars, the Sundance and Shadow; little silver cars in the body shop. I was exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.  I loved the body shop. The plant is a swiss watch, something is always going on, somewhere.

I foundered over job after job, always looking around the next corner.  I had a short attention span.  Scotch and vodka is my libation, the good kind---Chivas and Absolute.  The alcoholism numbed me. And Afib, heart-stopping, hammering-in-my-chest, no rhyme or reason for 20 years. Yes, I had myriad physicians.

My stint of jobs were all over the map; Production Control - Queen of E&O (excess and obsolete), Communications - a half-bad pretty-good speechwriter, (pithy was a good thing), Dealer Liaison for the Plant - Eight people traveled nationwide, concerned about the dealer and the plant. It was a Public Relations job. Chrysler cut back with budget cuts and disbanded the dealer liaison. I was Safety and Security, a trio of people dealing with, well, safety and security. It was a silly job and with nothing to do.

I took a buy-out for Chrysler and never looked back.

I shoveled excrement for a living, specifically, horse manure. Dur owns standard bred racing horses. Florida is muggy, sweltering and white-hot, even in the winter time.  However, I love the ocean. 

Oh, I almost forgot.  I worked as cub reporter, notwithstanding 40 years old.  I was terrible, although what, who, where, how and when came easily. I had good editor.  The Village Voice was the newspaper, a throw-a-way, in Richmond, MI. and The Advisor and Source was a throw-a-way in Shelby Township, MI.  I was a personal column and editorial writer for the Source.

Fast forward in 1997, I worked as a reporter for The Daily Courier, in Pennsylvania.  I won an Associated Press (Penna.) for editorial writing in 1999, six-months before the stroke. On Christmas Eve, Dec. 24, 1999 in Allegheny General Hospital I lay in Afib tachycardia as fast as 220 beats per minute and a stroke to boot. Twenty-twenty insight; I believe it's mercury fillings.

In 1995, I summarized depositions for lawyers from Interim Services in Fort Lauderdale and worked as a transcriptionist for a doctor and hospital for radiology. I worked at home for the doctor and hospital. I continued to Pennsylvania, worked as a depo writer and transcriptionist, completely free-lance.

I love the spoken word; the nuances, the inflection, and the connotations.  It's ironic, God's little joke. I couldn't talk, in 1999.  For seven years, I peaced out words. One word answers; food, haircut, water, Doritos, bed, thanks, please, etc. My mind was totally black, a blank slate.

The dentist extracted the in '05, fifty years of mercury fillings is a god-awful thing. And the Afib is completely gone, nyet, vamoose, nada. Twenty years of Afib. Yikes. Slowly but surely, I'm better.  Mercury fillings is beyond belief. I know.

I can talk again. I can converse again. I have a website. Who knew? Probably, it's fate. 

Spooky, huh?

I'm not a physician, or a dentist, or a science guy.  A stroke survivor? Yes. I know what I know.

Little silver fillings of mercury, amalgam fillings. I didn't know. Nobody knew. Well, the dentists, apparently.

Mercury Fillings and the Stroke

The ambulance pulled up from the hospital, the swinging doors opened on the ER and the physician reviewed the chart.  The time is 1:31 AM, Dec. 20, 1999. I'm in the hospital and I was in "observation".  Diagnosis:  syncopal episode.  (Read: I don't know.)

I was on a monitor bed with catheter, IV's and a shockingly low blood pressure at 63/28.  I was hypotensive, dehydrated, lethargic and weak. The diarrhea and violent vomiting stopped. The right arm and leg were dead. I couldn't speak at all.

Two hours later, approximately 3 AM to 5 AM, I had "nebulous" stroke. The doctor said that the may have resulted from a relative dehydration and hypotension during this intestinal illness, "possibly" contributing to the stroke. 

Shuffling through the paper for medical records, nearly ten years ago, I noticed something. Shigella syndrome. I never heard of it. Shigella is a myriad of symptoms such as vomiting, diarrhea, lethargic, dehydration, hypotension, and the list goes on.  Shigella can lead to vital organs, such as the brain. Stroke comes to mind. Shigella is negative. 

Meningitis effects the headache, neck stiffness, fever, confusion, altered consciousness and vomiting, although the physician ruled it out.

Addison's disease, among others, hyperpigmention of the nails and diabetes insipidus (excessive thirst) were possible, although the nails were fine and I am not parched, per  the hospital.

The doctors saved my life. I'm exceedingly grateful.

Mercury poisoning symptoms include:  depression, anxiety, foul breath, metallic taste, vomiting, diarrhea, vision impairment, irregular heart beat and pulse, changes in blood pressure, persistent cough, swollen lymph nodes in neck, excessive perspiration and host of signs; symptoms that I had.

Okay, let's review:  In the ER, diarrhea, (bright red blood, yet...hemorrhoids) violent vomiting, bradycardic, blood pressure 68/23, dehydrated, lethargic, and weak as kitten.  The hospital revealed salt-wasting (urine) and evidence of adenopathy of the neck. The carotid duplex revealed that the proximal left internal carotid artery is 80-99%. A new central nervous system "event" since admission, ischemia stroke would be possible. And palpitations so heart-stopping, so volatile, with 220 beats per minute. I am mute.

I'm absolutely convinced about mercury fillings and the stroke... however, I have no proof. 

The evidence mounts, though... funky metallic taste, paralyzing fear all the time, constantly; excessive sweating, and palpitations, so heart-stopping, for 20 years. About 5 years ago, the doctor prescribed a mercury urine heavy metal screen for the lab. The urine is negative, however, I waited a month for the urine. I urinated in the medium, but the reagent evaporated. Hence, the "negative".  I never had a toxic screen for a blood test.

I'm not a physician, or a dentist, or a science guy. That said, here's my events about the stroke and mercury fillings. I obtained medical records for the hospital. Additionally, the Food and Drug Administration in December 14-15, 2010, discussed mercury fillings in pregnant women, young children and alternative methods for tooth decay.

I have the stroke gene. My Mom's brood was plethora for cerebral vascular accidents and my Dad and his uncles died of old age. You pick. In the emergency room in 1999, I had a massive, blown, left middle cerebral artery, with an acute infarct. The infarct is the loss of adequate blood supply, and absolutely no headache.

I have soft teeth as a teenager, always going to the dentist. Filling after filling, tooth after tooth, the drill cleaned out the cavities and silver fillings intruded insidiously.  

Conservatively, the fillings in my teeth were 40 to 50 percent. That's a lot of mercury.  I called in 2009 for my dental records in 1960, a long time ago, but the old records were gone. Seven years is the maximum.  Fifty years is a long time.

The mercury was there, lurking. I didn't know it at the time. I had a baby at 21 years old. There's no family history for eczema. The mercury passes to the fetus and the placenta;  the mercury triggered it. 

My son Jeff had golf-ball eyes crusted with ooze, profound itching and scaly skin with strips of baby feet peeled away with dermis. Not pretty. He was two. The itching was so bad, he wore mittens I gave him to ease the pain. Kenalog cream helped, but it was a corticosteroid. He had a gamete of allergies, from trees, grasses, dust mites and milk. 

Jeff is 46 now; he has a daughter, 16. 

My granddaughter Jordan is a reed thin sweetie, with angular features and long lines.  She eats like a truck driver, craves sugar and she loves fruit.  She inherited eczema;  wisps of eczema from elbows and knees, ever so faint, in the springtime.

  

He graduated from Penn State University at State College and he works for McDonald's Corporation. Every spring and fall the eczema appears.  Every so often the obsessive-compulsive disorder rears it's ugly head. The actions repetitive, ritualistic and compulsive. Jeff never had eczema and OCD.  Ever.  

I was a transcriber for medical records 40 years ago.The kidneys worked overtime, sometimes I urinated in intervals of ten minutes or more. To the typewriter to the bathroom, I couldn't stop peeing.  And excessive sweating with no rhyme or reason; I was soaked to the skin.  Secret, Sure, Ban; nothing works. The aluminum zirconium were no match. I resorted to Mitchum's and under-arm pads. I had profuse sweating.  

A foul-smelling odor permeated my teeth and my mouth, a metallic taste in my teeth.  Doublemint gum, Tic-Tac and Altoids were in my purse constantly.  

And palpitations, so distressing, so dire and heartsick, for 20 years. I thought I was going to die.  

The doctors prescribed Tenormin.  It's a beta-blocker, prevents heart attack and reduces the heart rate.  But the palpitations continued with a vengeance.

Twelve years down the road, at 52, I saw physicians and cardiologists and Holter monitors, EKG's, whole-body ablution and new-age therapy. Scoping the internet, I saw magnesium tablets for heart palpitations. I tried everything.

The dentist pulled the teeth in 2005. The stench in my mouth was unbearable. One by one, the dental forceps extracted the teeth. Forty years is a long time. Cell by cell, organ by organ, took it's toll. The long, slow, process is over and I was overjoyed. The  dentist placed the dentures in my mouth. A crazy lady with a stroke. 

The metallic taste was gone instantly and the dentures were healing.  No pain to speak of. The palpitations have subsided and no panic attacks. I'm speaking again. Before the stroke, I had at least once-a-week palpitations; pounding, heart-stopping, life-or-death palpitations.  It's a wonderful feeling. It's gone. It's the Lopressor? You be the judge; I defer to the doctor.  I don't know.

Today, 25 mg. in the morning and 25 mg. in the evening (metaprolol tartrate) (Lopressor) and one aspirin, per the doctor. It's a miniscule amount. I have "benign blood pressure".  I take Chlorella, a micro-algae supplement (chlorophyl) for (mercury) toxins, D-3 (the sun) CoQ10 (antioxidant) 100mg and B12.  I eat bunches of cilantro and garlic. Cilantro helps detox heavy metals. Mercury stays with you for a long, long time. It's infinite.

I'm 68. I walk with cane. My right leg and arm is, essentially, dead and use Walk Aide for my right knee. The peroneal nerves lift the foot electrically.

The physicians and dentists need to talk to each other.

Now.

Mickie Yezek Roller

www.walkaide.com

http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2012/02/21/the-dr-oz-show-my-latest-jaw-dropping-interview.aspx

I was a certified lunatic. The Afib was a funny thing; it just keeps beating. The erratic beats are gone.

Heart-Stopping Afib

Afib

Fall colors are turning, the wood stove stoked and little slivers of frost on the pane. I live in  Pennsylvania in 1953. School was starting and I was a bright, eager reader. I was 6 years old in the first grade. The chubby hands lugged the book, almost as big as the size second grade.

My mother and I read fairy tales, Aesop’s fables and Uncle Arthur’s bedtime stories by heart. I love to read. So, the texts were easy for me in the first grade. I spouted words and phrases constantly. I went to the second grade and debut as a reader.

The room was sizeable, filled with kids, and I read Henny Penny. Henny was a chicken with extreme paranoia, the fable goes. Disaster is imminent. The teachers and children were impressed. I continued reading.

Harbinger Henny Penny exclaimed, “The sky is falling!”  She bopped the acorn mistakely to her noggin. "A piece of sky fell on my head!" said the fowl.

Indeed.