Daddy. Chronic Mercury Runs in Families

My name is Rebecca Lee and I cowrote this book, The Mercury Detoxification Manual with Andy Cutler,PhD. It explains how to get mercury out of your body and is arguably the only safe method for doing this. When I make this claim in discussions on the internet people get really mad and all nasty, but I stand by that statement.

I hope everybody had a merry Christmas or whatever feast days and celebrations you may have at this time. People all over the world have mercury toxicity and it doesn’t just choose Christians to afflict.

Before I got so interested in poisons, I thought someone should do a PhD thesis about famous characters in history and what drugs they used. Hitler, Stalin, and Henry the 8th come to mind. But then I started learning about poisons and that widened things up. In The Detox Manual, I wrote about “the mercury archetypes.” This is not a precise science, but we listed the archetype for women as the fussy, anxious, old-maidy type and for men as the lone wolf guy who has difficulties with relationships and possibly lives in his mom’s basement playing video games.

It was an epiphany for me when I read what Andy Cutler had to say about mercury toxicity running in families. I remember seeing something about it and I rooted through the books to find it again. Yes, it was on p.162 in Hair Test Interpretation! The inability to excrete mercury very well is genetic and runs in families. (It is not the famous MTHFR gene, it is something else, we don’t know what.) When I started to learn about this, it inspired me to take a good look at my own family, a family famous for its eccentricity.

My sister finally concluded that our father, who was a very strange man, had Asperger’s syndrome. I asked Andy if that was caused by mercury, and he said, maybe. But when I mentioned that my father had Asperger’s syndrome and an intention tremor, he was very emphatic that that was mercury. My father was never diagnosed but he had plenty of exposure to mercury what with all the dentistry, all the travel vaccines and the Thimerosal preserved neo-synephrine nose drops to which he was addicted

He was a very brilliant man. His brother Duncan Lee was, too. Their parents were Episcopalian missionaries in China where they were both born and they spoke Chinese before they learned to speak English. They both got Rhode’s scholarships and studied at Oxford University. Uncle Duncan was an interesting story as he worked for “wild Bill Donovan” at the OSS which was the precursor of the CIA. He got in trouble during the McCarthy period and there is a book about that called A Very Principled Boy.

My father worked as a Foreign Service officer. The story goes that he was supposed to be assigned to Frankfurt which would have been good for his career, but the State Department, because of his brother, wanted to hide him away so they sent him to Jamaica. Nice, but no good for your career. It worked out for me, though, because that is where I live now.

Their sister, Priscilla, was who I had in mind when I wrote about the female archetype for mercury toxicity. She lived to be in her nineties, a lovely, sweet person, but really bonkers and completely consumed with anxiety.

As for my father, I’m sure not being able to look anybody in the eye when you speak to them has to be bad for your career as a diplomat. I remember noticing, as a child, how he would wander around the room and look all over the place when he was talking to people. Once, when he was out and about in Arlington, VA with me and my little brother, he suddenly just wandered into the American Nazi party headquarters, trailing the two of us innocents behind. We stood around uncomfortably, looking at the flickering red lanterns and propaganda leaflets while, pacing around the room and looking all over the place, he debated the storm trooper on duty about history,

Another memory I have is of him sitting on the couch chewing gum with his typewriter on the coffee table. It was before the era of remotes, and he had installed a “blab off” on our TV. He would watch “Face the Nation” and the other news shows and as soon as the advertisements came on he would hit the blab off and start typing away like mad on whatever the article was he was writing. If we interrupted him, he would get angry and yell. In retrospect I think that he had to develop terrific powers of concentration to keep his mind from jumping all over the place.

After retiring from the State Department, (oh the irony!) he got a job working for The Pharmaceutical Manufacturers Association doing research and writing reports and testifying before congress and so forth. My father could not lie, and he could not detect lies in other people. But that was before the pharma manufacturers had become so criminal.

There is a condition associated with Asperger’s that my father had in spades. It is called “the little professor syndrome.” Here is an archived NYT article which talks about it. A person with this syndrome becomes an absolute expert on something and talks about it all the time. It is all that really interests them, and they bore the crap out of everyone with all their knowledge. My children must think I am carrying on the family tradition with my preoccupation with mercury poisoning.

Our family had been assigned to Brussels at the time of the independence of the Belgian Congo and daddy went down to the Congo a lot. I think he also went to South Africa to monitor elections. His area of obsessive expertise was South African politics and the geopolitics of Africa in general. He knew all the political parties, all the personalities, all the tribes and politics, just everything! When my parents were moving into a retirement community in Alexandria, I helped them clear out the house and there was a crate of Congolese newspapers with articles about independence that he had saved all those years. That and the crate of files for the Lee Society of Virginia which collapsed in my hands spewing its contents all over the floor, much to my poor father’s distress.

I think that the parents of little kids who have Asperger’s, like in the article I linked, can comfort themselves that their children can grow up to be like my father, who was a perfectly happy man. He was lucky to find my mother, and he worshipped at her feet. He did not suffer from anxiety and depression. He drove his adolescent daughters mad, but he didn’t really seem to notice that very much. He adored us. “I think you have finally figured out what to do with your hair,” he would say fondly, for the umpteenth time, turning me into a snarling monster. I thought he was doing it on purpose to make me angry, but he wasn’t. He was just totally clueless. "Let’s go and play skittles” he would say. He had bought a skittles board which he thought was just marvelous, but nobody would play it with him. I was nicer when I got older and did accompany him to a lecture at the Economist’s Club in DC where he proceeded to lie down on a couch in the back of the room and fall asleep. When I finally consented to go to his French Club one day it was closed. I never would practice German with him. Now I am sorry I wasn’t kinder. He was a very kind person, himself. My children absolutely adored him.

He was chronically constipated and took masses of over-the-counter remedies for that. He must have had a chronically stuffed nose, too, because he always kept a bottle of Neo-synephrine nose drops under his pillow. He took a Valium every other day. He had a massive intention tremor that got way worse as he aged. He kind of faded away and died in his early eighties.

If you have a child that looks like he may grow up like my father, they can be lucky, like he was. But why take a chance? Chelate them and detox them. It is not going to make them any less intelligent, but it will make their lives way easier as they go along.

Please like and share and spread the word. There are an awful lot of neurological problems in the population. many, many people would profit enormously from a few years of proper chelation.