My name is Jan Michael Looking Wolf Reibach and I have a very rare blood condition named Protein Enzyme C (and S) Deficiency. This genetic condition is deadly, and until the early 1980’s it was not detectable.
Protein Enzyme C Deficiency is a thrombotic disorder that can result in most the human body filling up with blood clots. These blood clots, if undetected, will ultimately cause death. The studies have shown that this condition can be created when someone has both Native American and European blood. There have been a small number of cases in Asian people who are of mixed blood as well. The reason for this condition is that Native Americans did not have Protein Enzyme C in the make up of their genes. They simply did not need the enzyme because of the type of food they ate and their required lifestyles.
The Europeans, however, needed Protein Enzyme C to survive because it prevents the blood from over clotting. The people of Europe ate a fatty diet and had a different genetic make up than the Native Americans. So when the two different genetic codes mix together, sometimes a person can be left with out Protein Enzyme C to protect him or her from over blood clotting.
With this condition, it typically does not affect the individual until the second or third decade of life. The reason for this is because when we are younger and typically more active, we do not need as much Protein Enzyme C in our blood. As we get older our metabolisms slow down, causing changes to the enzymes in the body. The following is an actual account of my plight against this disorder.
In November of 1993 it seemed as if I had the whole world in my hands. I had just started a new job as an automobile sales representative for a major dealer in Portland Oregon. My wife was seven months pregnant with my son. I owned a new Ford Thunderbird and lived in a nice Condo style apartment in Gresham. I was 27 years old and healthy - I had not been to the doctor since I got out of the Army in 1987.
Over the next few months I set sales records at work and made a huge amount of money in the process. My wife and I could not spend the money as fast as it was coming in. On January 25, 1994 my child was born, a healthy ten-pound boy. Right after, I received a promotion at work to lead sales associate.
I started working twelve to fifteen hours a day, six or even seven days a week. This meant more money and subsequently more stress. I did not know my wife anymore or have time to bond with my new son. My mind was constantly thinking about making more money - it totally consumed me.
What seemed so good at first was now a destructive force in my life, but I could not see what it was doing to my family or myself.
It was now March, and everything still seemed fine. I made over $10,000 the month before, putting most of it into the bank. I decided to take the day off and run some errands with my wife. We were driving down the road and there was an older man standing with a young child on the corner. Both of them were dirty and looked hungry. The man was holding a sign that read, "Homeless - Will Work for Food - Need Help."
I started laughing and made fun of them. The man watched as we drove by, and he looked right into my eyes while I laughed. That night I had a dream about the man, he was crying for me. In my dream it was as if I needed help from the homeless man and he was sad for me. My Father always taught to have compassion for people in need. "Even if you don’t help them, pray for their needs." He would say.
Also my father managed a ministry for the homeless for quite a few years. This allowed me to see first hand that not all homeless people are there by choice. So it seemed that I had forgotten to be compassionate; my heart was hardening.
"My head hurts!" I yelled to the doctor as he performed his examination.
It had been two weeks since the pain in the right side of my head had started. I went to the hospital several times but they could not find what was wrong. The neurologist told me that he thought it might be psychological. After all, they had performed all the tests and still found nothing wrong with me. Even a CAT Scan was done, taking a picture of my brain and still nothing. So they sent me home. However, the pain was getting worse every day.
It got so bad that I could not think clearly. I had always been against taking drugs for any reason, even Tylenol or Aspirin. The doctor gave me strong painkillers and I was eating them like candy. Still the pain was there, never ending.
I could tell that no one believed me. Even my family was starting to doubt my claims. I called the neurologist and begged him for help, telling how the pain was getting worse. He told me to call during regular office hours and make an appointment.
I looked at my wife and said, "Something is really wrong with me and I’m afraid." I started crying. I was so frustrated that no one would help me.
The next day, March 22, 1994, I woke up to the wonderful smell of breakfast. The first thing I noticed was that the pain had disappeared! I jumped out of bed to tell my wife. I instantly fell to the floor, but stood right back up. My left arm went completely limp, as if it was asleep from lying wrong. But this was different; the feeling was gone too.
I yelled out for help and started panicking. My wife walked me to the couch and sat me down. I then lost all the movement in my leg and went into shock. The ambulance rushed to Portland Adventist Hospital. This was the same hospital I had been trying to get help from. The same doctors were there as I was immediately sent off for another CAT Scan.
This time the picture of my brain showed something horribly wrong. I suffered a huge stroke on the right side of my brain, about the size of a silver dollar. Even though the doctors could see what happened to me, they did not know what caused it.
There were a large number of tests performed to find out what caused the stroke. Every test from A to Z was tried. I was admitted to the neurological ward for further testing and monitoring.
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