In 1985, I was a sophomore at the University of California, San Diego. That’s when I began drinking Diet Coke regularly. I didn’t drink coffee. By the spring of 1986, I was starting to notice that my health and mental abilities were deteriorating. My illness escalated rapidly one evening when I was struck with a strange high fever, unlike anything I had experienced previously. My neck was swollen out to my jaw line, and I was shaking all night. In the morning, I went to the student health center. The nurse who saw me said, “It looks like you have a healthy case of mono.” However, the mono test came back negative. Next, they tested for strep, and that was negative, too. On a third visit, they sent me away with a diagnosis of tonsillitis. I knew it wasn’t tonsillitis, but I did not seek further treatment at that time.
I never really got better. Over the next several months, I continued to grow increasingly ill in some alarming ways. What I noticed first was that I had a constant sore throat. I also had chronic severe headaches and low-grade fevers. I was profoundly tired all of the time. One morning, I woke up with a stabbing pain in my eye. It was bright red.
Again, I sought treatment at the student health center. They gave me drops for conjunctivitis, despite my insistence that this was not pink eye. A few days later, the pain was unbearable, and they referred me to a specialist who diagnosed iritis, a condition in which the body’s immune system attacks the iris. Untreated, it can lead to blindness. My eye responded to treatment, but I began having unusual eye infections and irritations fairly regularly after that. In the fall, I had a painful outbreak of shingles at the base of my spine. It felt as if my body were falling apart. I slept much more than my friends, but I rarely felt rested.
I started having one strange complaint after another. My hair would come out and my toenails would fall off. I was sensitive to bright light. I developed mild mitral valve prolapse (a type of heart murmur). I had one vaginal infection after another for no apparent reason, and my urethra was frequently irritated. My bowel movements were never “normal.” I either had diarrhea or constipation or strange ribbon-like stools.
By early 1987, I was starting to experience severe depression and memory problems. I had always been a top student, with strong verbal skills. I was a literature major, and I knew something was going horribly wrong when I began having difficulty retrieving words. Thinking I might have pms for the lack of any other plausible explanation, I went back to the health center. They referred me to the on-campus psychological counseling office, where I was diagnosed with depression. I had sensations that my body was not quite solid, as if I were dissolving. However, I knew that was I was experiencing was not primarily a mental health problem. It’s as if I had suddenly gone from being a 20-year-old active co-ed to getting stuck in a 90-year-old’s failing body.
I was an athlete in high school and had always been quite physically active. I had been an honor student since junior high school, and was always involved in lots of extracurricular activities. However, as my physical deterioration continued, even light exertion could cause me to drop to the floor from dizziness and exhaustion. As things progressed, I developed fibromyalgia. I remember telling my mother, “I feel so tired that my bones ache.” I had recurring laryngitis, conjunctivitis, yeast infections, bladder infections, and fairly severe irritable bowel syndrome (IBS). My throat was nearly always painfully raw. I started having outbreaks of eczema and strange rashes that no one I consulted could diagnose.
I continued drinking Diet Coke and chewing gum with Aspartame throughout college, but I never suspected a connection with my illness.
In graduate school, I would attend classes in the evenings, but I had no energy for anything other than struggling to keep my grades up despite the “brain fog” that was almost always present.
I was a member of Mensa, and had always been a top student. However, by this point, it was a real struggle for me to string two thoughts together. Under stress, I’d stammer and struggle to say what I was thinking, which was a dramatic change from how I’d been previously. My roommate attended class, held a part-time job, and had an active social life. Whereas, I’d sleep in 14-hour stretches and wake with barely enough energy or focus to complete my studies.
Writing was excruciating because I so uncomfortable, tired, and mentally slowed. My frequent visits to the on-campus health services continued for persistent infections, inflammations, and other mysterious complaints.
I graduated in 1990, and started my career. When I saw the first reports on television about Gulf War Syndrome, I told my mom, “I know this sounds crazy, but I have what those guys have.”
Their testimonials matched what I was experiencing so closely. I felt strongly at the time that there must be a connection. A couple of years later, as my Aspartame consumption was tapering off, I had a bout of episcleritis. It’s similar to iritis but less serious. The ophthalmologist took a health history and recommended strongly that I consult a rheumatologist.
After an extensive round of tests, she diagnosed me with CFIDS and fibromyalgia. The only lab results that came back abnormal on a regular basis were my sed rate tests. She assured me that my symptoms were not “all in my head.” Upon receiving the IBS diagnosis from a gastroenterologist, I stopped drinking sodas. From that point on, my health started to improve.
For years, I wondered what had made me so sick for most of my twenties. I thought I might have been accidentally exposed to an experimental pathogen or toxic weapon because that sort of research was conducted in the area where my college campus is. I even had a titer drawn for brucellosis because they manufactured a weaponized version of it near where I lived. (They sold some of it to Sadam Hussein, so I took this possibility seriously.) However, my test came back negative.
I turned 40 this year and now enjoy excellent health. I feel ten times younger than when I was in my twenties. I attribute this improvement to cutting out Aspartame entirely when I started working with a naturopathic physician three years ago. I sleep, exercise, socialize, work, think, and feel like a “normal” person again. I feel as if about 95% of my mental capacity is restored.
NOTE: I think it’s interesting that La Jolla, the location of my college campus was when my illness started, has been identified as a “hot spot” for the CFIDS epidemic. We would get our Diet Coke in cases from the Price Club (before it became a Costco). Is it possible that Diet Coke sold in the area sat in some hot warehouse to a point where the beverages became toxic?
I’ll be glad to answer any questions or provide more information in support of raising public awareness of the severe threat Aspartame poses to those of us who have adverse reactions to it.