The Environmental Basis of ME/CFSScott Daniska

Treatment

I do not have a cure and I am not selling a protocol. What I have is a mechanism, and some things that follow from it.

Read this first. Nothing on this page is medical advice. I am a patient with a research background, not a clinician. Several of the items below are speculative, some are drawn from unvalidated patient surveys, and none have been tested against this model in a trial. Do not start, stop or change any treatment on the strength of this page. Talk to a doctor who knows your case.

Knowing why you are sick is not the same as knowing how to get better. But if the model is right, it does narrow the search, because it says what any treatment has to accomplish: stop the damage, remove what is causing it, and give the tissue a chance to rebuild.

1. A safe environment comes first

Healing cannot happen while the injury continues. If the epithelial barrier is being damaged faster than it regenerates, then reducing VOC exposure is not one option among several — it is the precondition for everything else. Getting exposure down should allow the barrier to regenerate, which in turn should improve blood flow and stimulate repair.

I know of no way around this, and I have looked hard. I have tried motel rooms, sealed rooms, tarps, foil, netting, replaced flooring, air filtration and every configuration of enclosure I could construct. In my case none of it worked and I ended up outdoors. That is an extreme outcome that I would not wish on anyone, and I want to be careful not to present it as a recommendation. Most people will not need anything like it. The general principle — find out what in your environment is hurting you and reduce it — is what matters.

There is also a tug of war between healing and damage running constantly in the background, which is why pacing and limiting exertion matter so much. Rest does not fix the injury, but it shifts the balance.

2. Removing the particles

This is the part nobody has a good answer for, including me.

Blood filtration. Nanoparticles do enter the bloodstream, so some method of filtering blood could in principle remove them. The obstacle is bioaccessibility: most of the particle burden is lodged in interstitial spaces, not circulating. Getting them mobile enough to catch is the hard part — vibration during a blood draw is one idea for keeping them in circulation. Whether existing filtration methods would capture them depends on whether they are protein-bound or free, and because they are insoluble and inert, a technique specific to this population may need to be developed.

I noticed a significant reduction in arm pain after repeated blood draws, which is the observation that started this line of thinking. It is one person's impression, not a result.

Manual lymphatic drainage. The technique developed by Raymond Perrin has a rationale here, given the lymphatic congestion documented in a large proportion of ME/CFS patients. In my experience the benefit is limited, it does not work well when connective tissue is heavily damaged or slow to repair, and it can increase damage if done too aggressively. After a session in 2022 I had a distinct gritty taste, like a mouthful of sand, which is what made me think particles were being moved.

3. Restoring repair capacity

Hard to do without the first two, but the direction would be rebuilding the barrier itself. Nebulised placental stem cells is the idea I would most want tested. Inhalable antioxidants are another avenue.

A third possibility is a physical one: an inhalable sealant that fills the gaps in the barrier without dissolving or passing through. My reason for thinking this could work is uncomfortable — nanoparticle exposure initially seemed to improve things, apparently because the particles themselves were plugging those gaps. That improvement reversed badly later, when the particles began disrupting tissue and left the gaps wider than before. Any sealant would need to stay put permanently, and be inert in a way titanium dioxide is not.

On antioxidants. Polyphenol supplements gave me partial relief from malaise and neurological symptoms. But I also think they progressed the disease, possibly through a senolytic effect feeding into tissue depletion. I mention this because short-term symptom relief and long-term trajectory are not the same thing, and in this illness they can point in opposite directions.

On graded re-exposure programmes

There is a category of retraining programme built on the premise that the reaction is a learned or sensitised nervous system response, and that the way out is to gradually reintroduce the trigger. If this model is right, that approach is backwards. Deliberately increasing exposure to something doing physical damage will produce more physical damage, however the nervous system is behaving.

My reasons for thinking this is not sensitisation are on the model page — chiefly that my reactions differ completely by exposure type, with no overlap, which a sensitisation account would not predict. I would want anyone considering one of these programmes to weigh that.

What the community reports

Clinical trials are slow and, so far, have not delivered. In the meantime, patients are running thousands of uncontrolled experiments on themselves and nobody is collecting the results. So I ran a weighted survey across several ME/CFS groups, asking people to rate treatments from −5 (permanently and severely worse) to 0 (no change) to +5 (permanently and exceptionally improved).

Larazotide acetate (4)
+3.50
Fecal transplant (4)
+2.50
Ara-290 (7)
+2.14
BPC-157 (8)
+1.25
IV saline (21)
+1.19
Oxymatrine (6)
+1.17
HBOT (7)
+1.14
IVIG (8)
+1.13
Ivermectin (8)
+1.00
Magnesium (54)
+0.56
Ivabradine (15)
+0.53
Ativan (18)
+0.33
Naltrexone (35)
+0.14
Ketotifen (12)
+0.08
Modafinil (15)
+0.00
Vyvanse / Adderall (18)
+0.00
CoQ10 (48)
-0.02
Midodrine (23)
-0.04
Pregabalin (24)
-0.04
Cannabis (32)
-0.06
Melatonin (49)
-0.08
Abilify (15)
-0.13
Beta blockers (29)
-0.17
Fludrocortisone (26)
-0.23
Valtrex (17)
-0.24
Mestinon (19)
-0.42
Tramadol (24)
-0.71
Amitriptyline (26)
-0.88
Baclofen (11)
-0.91
Gabapentin (30)
-1.10
worseno changebetter
Fig. 9 — Self-reported treatment response, weighted mean. Number of respondents for each treatment in brackets.

How much weight to put on this. Not much, individually. This is self-selected, self-reported, unblinded, uncontrolled data with no adjustment for severity or duration, and several of the highest-scoring entries rest on four to eight responses — nowhere near enough to mean anything on their own. Somebody who improves for unrelated reasons will credit whatever they last tried.

What it is useful for is generating candidates cheaply. A survey like this can be run in a week and can point at things worth a proper trial. Larazotide acetate scoring at the top is at least interesting given that it acts on intestinal barrier permeability.

The results at the bottom of the range are worth as much attention as the top. If patients consistently report that a commonly prescribed drug makes them worse, that is a signal about prescribing practice that costs nothing to collect and is currently going uncollected.