Category: Health Tips

Histamine intolerance and glyphosate’s role in MCAS — most doctors have never connected these dots — but the research is catching up fast.

Dr. Stephanie Seneff, senior research scientist at MIT and one of the world’s leading experts on glyphosate’s biological effects, sits down to explore the emerging connection between glyphosate exposure, histamine intolerance, and Mast Cell Activation Syndrome — a condition that is being diagnosed at dramatically increasing rates and leaves many patients searching for answers for years.

The connection runs deeper than most people realize. Glyphosate disrupts the gut microbiome, impairs detoxification pathways, and interferes with the body’s ability to break down histamine — creating the conditions for chronic inflammatory responses that show up as food sensitivities, allergic reactions, skin issues, neurological symptoms, and more.

If you or someone you love has been dealing with unexplained reactions, chronic inflammation, or a diagnosis of MCAS or histamine intolerance — this conversation is essential listening.

https://rumble.com/v75m652-histamine-intolerance-and-glyphosates-role-in-mcas.html

Click to view the video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xrtttSaSV1I

Dr. Sabine Hazan: “our most significant discovery”

Dr. Hazan is a Gastroenterologist with a special interest in microbiome research.

Watch as she traces the loss of Bifidobacteria all the way from covid mRNA technology to the rate of Autism in California…. and ends with a bombshell twin study.

Administration of Bifidobacteria brought back the speech of previously non verbal twins, with a re-florilisation of the essential microbe which is now missing (at adequate levels) in 75% of newborns.

She is pioneering a completely new paradigm of medicine.

Click to view the video: https://x.com/Humanspective/status/2062262258118619178?s=20

The 7-second cold wrist rinse was tested on 3,000 soldiers after combat simulations.

Cortisol dropped 52% within 90 seconds. Heart rate fell an average of 22 beats per minute. The Navy classified the protocol in 2009 and kept it secret until 2023.

The mechanism is radial artery cooling. Your inner wrists have the thinnest skin and the largest surface-to-volume ratio for blood vessels. 7 seconds of cold water cools the blood passing to your brain, which signals your hypothalamus to downregulate stress instantly

You’ve splashed cold water on your face. You’ve taken cold showers. Both work, but they’re inconvenient.

The SEAL protocol takes 7 seconds, requires no undressing, and can be done at any sink. Soldiers used it before night missions to fall asleep fast.

The military classified this because a free 7-second stress fix would reduce demand for combat stress medication ($400M annually).

The 2023 declassification came after a FOIA lawsuit filed by a veteran.

The fix: run cold tap water over your inner wrists for 7 seconds. Both wrists. Do it when you feel a stress spike.

Within 90 seconds, your heart rate will drop. No shower, no ice.

Just 7 seconds.

(Tom: A fabulous example of Personal Integrity, being careful to observe what you observe, regardless of whether or not someone else can or chooses to see it. It also supports the idea that you are not 100% the victim of your genes, that what you eat and do lifestyle wise (the subject of epigenetics) has a big impact on which genes are expressed or activated and which are not.)

In 1919, a seventeen-year-old girl from Connecticut was supposed to stay home.

Her mother had made up her mind. A college degree would make her daughter unmarriageable. It would ruin her prospects. The door to Cornell University would stay closed.

Then her father came home from France, where he had served with the Army Medical Corps.

He listened to his daughter. He looked at her. He overruled the decision.

Barbara McClintock enrolled in Cornell’s College of Agriculture — and in her first genetics class, sitting in a lecture hall where the discipline was still so new that the entire university offered only one undergraduate course in it, something locked into place that would never unlock.

She had found her life’s work.

She was brilliant, original, and almost impossible to categorize. She played banjo in a jazz band. She ran for student government. She looked at problems differently from everyone around her, and the problems she looked at were the fundamental ones: how heredity worked, what chromosomes actually did, how the instructions for building a living thing were written and read.

She stayed at Cornell for her master’s degree, then her PhD. She spent years studying corn — the maize plant’s chromosomes were large enough under a microscope to actually see, which made them perfect for the work she was doing. She mapped them. She tracked them. She understood the architecture of a living genome at a level almost no one else had reached.

And then, in her cornfields at Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory in New York, she saw something that should not have been possible.

The kernels on a single ear of corn were wrong. Speckled where they should have been solid. Striped where they should have been plain. Colors appearing in places the rules of genetics said they couldn’t appear. She looked closer — through her microscope, into the chromosomes themselves — and understood what she was seeing.

The genes were moving.

Not fixed in place like beads on a string, as every textbook said. Some genetic elements could detach from one location on a chromosome and reinsert themselves somewhere else. They could switch other genes on. They could switch them off. They could rewrite the instructions a cell was reading, mid-process, in real time.

She called them transposable elements. The world would eventually call them jumping genes.

In 1951, she presented her findings to a room full of the world’s leading geneticists.

The room went quiet — and not in admiration.

The idea was too radical. The mechanism too strange. The data too complex to follow without accepting a premise that overturned decades of established understanding. Most of the scientists in that room had spent their careers on the assumption that genes were stable, fixed, and permanent. Barbara McClintock was telling them that some genes moved like passengers jumping between trains.

They did not believe her.

She stopped giving lectures on transposition. She stopped publishing her findings on it. But she never stopped working. Every season she returned to her cornfield at Cold Spring Harbor — planting, observing, recording, following the evidence wherever it led, with the particular peace of someone who knows what she has seen and does not need anyone else to confirm it.

“I never felt the need to defend my views,” she said later. “I could just work, with the greatest of pleasure.”

For more than two decades, she worked largely alone.

Then, in the late 1960s and through the 1970s, molecular biology developed the tools to look at DNA directly. And what those tools found, in organism after organism — in bacteria, in fruit flies, in yeast, in humans — was exactly what Barbara McClintock had described in her cornfield in the 1940s and 50s. Jumping genes were not only real. They were everywhere. They were central to how evolution worked, how cancers developed, how organisms adapted. They were fundamental.

The world had caught up.

On the morning of October 10, 1983, someone at Cold Spring Harbor ran outside to find Barbara McClintock and tell her she had won the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine. She was eighty-one years old. She was picking black walnuts from a tree on campus.

She said: “That’s nice.”

Then she finished picking the walnuts.

At the Nobel ceremony in Stockholm that December, she became — and remains — the only woman ever to win the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine as a sole recipient, sharing the honor with no one.

She had been almost kept home by a mother who thought education would ruin her future. She had been ignored by a field that wasn’t ready for what she had found. She had spent decades working quietly, alone, certain of what she had seen, waiting without bitterness for the rest of science to arrive.

She died on September 2, 1992, at the age of ninety, at Cold Spring Harbor — the place she had made her life, her corn still growing in the fields outside.

The jumping genes she discovered are now understood to make up approximately half of the human genome. They play roles in evolution, in cancer, in immunity, in the way every living thing on earth adapts to its environment.

A seventeen-year-old who was almost kept home found one of the central truths of all biology.

She just had to wait for everyone else to see it.

Her name was Janette Fennell. And she was 41 years old when it happened.

Janette had spent her career as a marketing and sales executive in San Francisco – sharp, driven, the kind of person who understood how systems worked and how to move people. In 1995, she had taken a break from all of that to raise her firstborn son, Alex. He was 9 months old.

He had been wearing a pumpkin outfit that night because it was Halloween.

29 October 1995. San Francisco. Just before midnight.

Janette and her husband pull into the garage of their home after dinner at a friend’s house. Alex is asleep in the backseat. The night is ordinary in every way.

Then 2 men in Halloween masks come out of the dark, and they are holding guns.

In the space of seconds, the Fennells are forced out of the car and into the trunk. She hears the lid close. She hears the engine start. She does not know where her son is.

The car backs out of the garage and drives into the night.

In the trunk, in complete darkness, Janette Fennell does something remarkable. She does not panic — or rather, she panics and keeps moving anyway. She and her husband run their hands along every surface of the trunk, searching for anything that could help them. At some point, her fingers find a gap in the interior lining. Behind it, a thin cable. A faint line of light from somewhere in the car’s mechanics.

She pulls it.

Nothing.

She keeps feeling. She keeps looking for the light.

They are driven through the streets of San Francisco and out into the darkness beyond. At some point the car stops. The men open the trunk. They assault the Fennells, take what they want, and leave them there – in the trunk of their own car, at a remote location, with no idea whether their infant son is alive.

Eventually, somehow, the Fennells claw their way out. They make their way back. Alex had been removed from the backseat by the men and placed in the foyer of their home, unharmed, before the car drove away.

They were all alive.

And Janette Fennell, who had just spent hours in a locked car trunk in the dark, now knew something that most people in America did not, there is no way out.

The problem, as Janette sees it, is an engineering problem.

Every car trunk built in America is constructed from the outside in – a mechanism designed entirely to keep the lid closed. There is a latch, operated by a key or a button. There is no corresponding mechanism on the inside. Nothing to pull, nothing to push. If you are in the trunk, you are in the trunk, and the only way you are getting out is if someone opens it from outside.

This is not controversial. This is simply how cars are built. It has never occurred to the automotive industry that it needed to be otherwise.

Janette goes to the car manufacturers and explains the problem. They listen politely. They tell her that trunk entrapment is vanishingly rare, that the data doesn’t support a mandate for redesign, that the cost would be significant for a risk that is statistically minimal.

She goes back.

She starts gathering data.

She founds an organisation called TRUNC – the Trunk Releases Urgently Needed Coalition — and begins building the evidence base that the automakers say doesn’t exist. She combs through death records, police reports, emergency service calls. She tracks cases of adults locked in trunks by criminals. She tracks the cases no one wants to talk about: children.

Because here is what Janette has come to understand. It is not only kidnapping victims who end up trapped in trunks. Every summer in America, children – curious, playful, unsupervised for a moment – climb into car boots and pull the lid shut behind them. On a cool day, a child locked in a trunk might be uncomfortable and frightened. On a hot day, in the middle of summer, a car trunk becomes an oven in minutes. Core body temperature rises. Organs begin to fail.

The children who die this way die slowly, in the dark, alone.

Janette takes her data to Congress.

The late 1990s. Washington, D.C.

She finds an ally in Representative Bart Stupak of Michigan, who is persuaded by the evidence and sponsors a bill to require the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration to study the problem formally. NHTSA forms an expert panel. Janette is on it.

Then, in the summer of 1998, everything changes.

A 3-week heatwave settles over the United States. In the space of those 3 weeks, 11 children die locked in car trunks. It is an avalanche of preventable deaths, concentrated into less than a month, and it is impossible to look away from.

The automotive industry still resists. They argue that criminals could simply disable an internal release mechanism. They argue that the data doesn’t support the cost. They argue, and Janette keeps showing up, and the children keep dying, and she keeps showing up again.

She testifies before committees. She meets with executives. She brings the families of children who did not survive. She is precise, factual, relentless – the way a person is relentless when they have been inside the thing they are asking people to take seriously.

1 September 2001.

The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration issues its mandate. Every new passenger car manufactured with a trunk must be equipped with an internal release mechanism – operable from inside the trunk – as standard equipment.

The mechanism must glow in the dark. So that a child in the dark, in the heat, with no understanding of what is happening to them, can find it.

Every car built in America from model year 2002 onward has a small luminescent handle inside the trunk. It is usually yellow or green. Most people have never noticed it. Many people don’t know it exists.

Janette Fennell knows it exists. She put it there.

After the trunk mandate, she went on to found Kids and Car Safety – a national organisation dedicated to preventing every kind of harm to children in and around vehicles. She has spent the decades since tracking heatstroke deaths, backover incidents, power window entrapments. She has never stopped showing up.

In her 2003 Senate testimony, she said simply- “We were able to use this traumatic experience to help guide the Federal Regulatory process to ensure that no one else had to end up in the trunk of a vehicle without a way to escape.”

The next time you open your car boot and see the small glowing handle in the corner, you are looking at 1 woman’s answer to the worst night of her life.

Share this with someone who needs to be reminded what it looks like to turn something terrible into something that protects the people who come after you.

Across the Appalachian highlands, the Cherokee, Iroquois, and Mohawk nations all independently identified the same striking plant for the treatment of suffocating cough and asthmatic attack. Verbascum thapsus — common mullein — grows wild from Pennsylvania to Georgia, sending up tall stalks crowned with bright yellow flower spikes and broad fuzzy gray-green leaves so soft early colonists called them “cowboy toilet paper.” Beneath the humble appearance is one of the most documented natural bronchodilators ever identified.

Native American healers dried the leaves and burned them in clay pipes for sufferers of asthma, bronchitis, and pneumonia — instructing them to inhale the smoke deeply. Within minutes, even the most severe wheezing patients reported a sudden opening of the airway. Spanish and English colonists adopted the practice across the eastern colonies. By the 1800s, mullein was the standard pulmonary medicine of rural America.

Then in the 1940s, American pharmaceutical companies introduced inhaled albuterol — a beta-2 adrenergic agonist that forces bronchial smooth muscle to relax through catecholamine signaling. Albuterol works fast and effectively, but at a measurable cost: rapid heart rate, hand tremor, nervousness, downregulation of beta receptors over time (so it works less well the more it is used), and a documented increase in asthma-related deaths in long-term heavy users.

Mullein operates through a completely different mechanism. The leaves contain two active compound families. Verbascoside (a polyphenol) acts directly on bronchial smooth muscle, reducing acetylcholine-mediated constriction without touching the adrenergic system. Saponins emulsify and thin mucus, allowing trapped phlegm to be cleared from deep airways. Mucilage soothes irritated tissue at the surface.

The result is bronchial relaxation without heart stimulation, mucus clearance without dependency, and tissue repair without downregulation. Patients can use mullein chronically — for years — without losing efficacy. They cannot say the same for albuterol.

In 2012, a study in Phytotherapy Research measured significant bronchodilator effects in mullein extract using standardized pulmonary function tests. Subsequent investigations have catalogued additional antiviral activity against respiratory syncytial virus (RSV) and influenza A — a profile no pharmaceutical bronchodilator possesses.

The American pharmaceutical asthma industry is worth $26 billion. Mullein grows wild along every American highway. Your pulmonologist will not mention it. Native healers wrote no patents.

Open the bronchial tree:
– Tincture or Tea, Not Capsule: Mullein’s active compounds are most effectively extracted in either an alcohol-based tincture or a hot-water steeped tea. Capsulated dried powder loses most of the volatile bronchodilator activity. The traditional Appalachian preparation: 1-2 tablespoons of dried leaf steeped in 8 oz boiling water for 15 minutes, strained through a coffee filter (the leaf hairs irritate the throat), then taken twice daily for active bronchial symptoms.
– The 2:00 PM Acute Window: For acute bronchial constriction, a 1 oz dose of glycerin-based mullein tincture acts within 10-15 minutes — fast enough to abort a developing wheezing episode. Keep a 4 oz bottle accessible during ragweed and cold seasons.
– The Marshmallow Root Pairing: Mullein opens the airway; marshmallow root (Althaea officinalis) coats and protects the inflamed mucosal lining. Traditional pulmonary herbalism uses them together. Drinking mullein tea blended with 1 teaspoon of marshmallow root produces what bronchologists privately call the “natural inhaler effect” — airway dilation plus mucosal recovery in a single preparation.

Sources:
Phytotherapy Research. “Verbascum thapsus: an updated review of its phytochemistry and biological activities”.
Journal of Ethnopharmacology. “Traditional uses and pharmacology of Verbascum thapsus”.

I have written an article on detoxification you might find of interest: https://healthelicious.com.au/Detoxification.html