Homeopathy - there’s nothing in it

In Perth, in 2005, Penelope Dingle died an agonizing death from metastatic renal cancer after repeatedly refusing anything but homeopathic treatments. The Coroner’s Report on Dingle’s death says, in part:

[T]he homeopath had assured the deceased that she could cure rectal cancer using homeopathic methods alone and that the deceased would not require surgery, chemotherapy or radiation treatment. It was suggested that it was on the basis of this advice that the deceased had not pursued a surgical option … in spite of her increasing pain levels the homeopath repeatedly assured her that the treatment was effective (curative) and encouraged her to persist with homeopathic treatment.

Even when Dingle was rushed to hospital with a complete bowel obstruction, the homeopath tried to dissuade her from allowing the doctors from performing life-saving surgery. The surgeon described Mrs Dingle’s condition as follows:

…she looked almost dead. She was down to 35kgs, cachectic [wasted from the cancer], suffering from severe weight loss, sunken eyes, grossly distended abdomen, in severe pain and incredibly unwell.

At length, Dingle agreed to the operation but, tragically, by this time, her cancer was so far advanced only palliative care could be offered. Reviewing her history, the treating doctor said that, had Mrs Dingle followed the conventional treatment course recommended after her initial diagnosis, she would have had a good chance of survival.

If homeopathy were simply being touted as a cure for minor ailments like headaches, insomnia and morning sickness perhaps there would be no need for grand gestures like public mass overdoses. But homeopathy is also being promoted, especially in third-world countries, as an alternative treatment for potentially deadly, but manageable, diseases such as HIV/AIDS, malaria, tuberculosis, diarrhea and influenza. Let me be clear here, after more than a century of research, hundreds of studies and at least two, major meta-analyses (studies of studies), the science shows that homeopathy has no therapeutic effect greater than placebo. (See Ernst (2010), Medical Journal of Australia; Singh and Ernst (2008) Trick or Treatment)

It’s horrifying to think that scientifically trained pharmacists give shelf space to homeopathic medicines, not because they work, but because they sell. This gives the products an imprimatur of credibility that is simply not deserved and potentially dangerous.

Stories like Penelope Dingle’s help me to put aside my reservations about participating in the 10:23 Challenge. Of course I’m concerned this kind of stunt might be seen as trivializing the very real problems of drug abuse and suicide but, ultimately, I’m convinced that the dangers of homeopathy are so significant that any action which draws attention to its lack of efficacy is worthwhile. Yet, frankly, I’m still concerned about my own health.

I’m neither impetuous, nor irrational. Before I committed to take part in the protest, I indulged in a little pre-Challenge googling. I took a close look at the packet of sleeping pills I purchased from my local pharmacy and noted that most of the ingredients sounded innocuous. I wasn’t likely to die from an overdose of caffeine, chamomile or capsicum. But there were some unfamiliar names like humulus lupus which sounded suspiciously like a concoction brewed in the potions class at Hogwarts. I was relieved to discover that humulus lupus is simply the Latin name for hops, and I figured I’d probably downed enough beer to develop an immunity. But some of the ingredients, I discovered, are scarily toxic.

I was alarmed to find that Gelsemium sempervirens can be fatal - even in small doses - and that just 35g of the Hyoscyamus (henbane) contained in the pills I’m planning to take could, theoretically, kill a 70kg adult. I’m not a very brave person and the words ‘toxic’ and ‘kill’ in relation to something I’m about to ingest - let alone overdose on - come back to haunt me as the 10:23am mark draws closer.

“Are we sure this stuff is safe?” I ask my fellow skeptics, only half joking.

Keith, who’s studying for a Bachelor of Health Science and Trent, a law student, draw my attention to the ingredients list on my box of pills, pointing out that each is followed by a number and the letter C. I’ve noticed the figures 4C, 6C, 14C and 30C on the box, but don’t really understand what they mean. I’m not completely clueless; I know that homeopathy works on the principle that cures are affected through highly diluted forms of an active ingredient. This is based on the belief that water has memory. In keeping with the homeopathic maxim ‘like cures like’, the ingredients used to treat symptoms are those which cause the same symptoms.