NeuroCytonix Day 12:

Wednesday July 30, 2025
No Wheelchairs (or Dogs) Allowed
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We are half way through Julius’ Cytotron protocol. This science absolutely deserves attention. We were given letters from the doctor so that Julius will be excused from x-ray scans at the airport. Apparently, it will interfere with the treatment, which is meant to continue having positive impact over the next six months to eight months. The more I learn, the more fascinated I am and the more I believe that humanity should be delving deeper into the power of RFQMR and electromagnetic fields for a plethora of applications. Treatment centers utilising RFQMR therapy, for neurological disorders, and specifically for cerebral palsy, should be available throughout the USA. There are a lot of hurdles, a lot of expense and a lot for insurance companies to take on. Maybe those discussions are taking place. But obstacles should not stop us from advancing forward. I still cannot believe we are here and able to experience this. The families we have met have come from Mexico City, Hungary, Uruguay, Columbia, and the USA. NeuroCytronix does not have a platform for families to connect. As a matter of fact, Julius’ name has been replaced with a number for privacy. Imagine reading a research paper that included names of the participants. I consider us et al. and feel like we are involved in something far bigger than us. Still, it would be nice to have more connection with the other families so we can help each other with obstacles. We are only able to meet the handful that overlap with our scheduled time at the Center and those staying at the same hotel. As for obstacles, we certainly experience them on a daily basis.
Even with a nice pool, this hotel closes in on us. As contemporary and beautiful as the architecture in the area is, the environmental design falls way short of inclusive. Not only is mobility for a person using a wheelchair restricted, but even those of us who are ambulatory had better watch every step. I saw a large family walking along the bending road by the park. They were right in a blind spot of the curve with a stroller out in front! OMG! Crosswalks are scarce, if at all. Sidewalks are narrow, spotty, incredibly irregular, and end nonsensically. On the greater than 100 degree temperatures, It is brutal going anywhere on foot and especially when pushing a heavily loaded wheelchair. I cannot understand why the hospital right across the street is so difficult to access. Even people without disabilities will find themselves using crutches and wheelchairs.

On our twelfth floor of the hotel there are large single-light windows at the west and east ends of the long hall that is perpendicular to the elevators. My daughter, and I contemplated the traffic below the eastern facing glass, after our efforts to walk to the Walmart for some staples, only a few blocks to the south, proved to be near impossible. We dropped the back right wheel of Julius’ chair from the rugged, broken pavement and tall uncut curbs we had to navigate.

I kept “fixing” the wheel each time it spun out to the end of its axel. “We have to turn around, mom,” Jove repeated too many times. “We are not turning around. We are too close to turn around, now.” “But, mom!” “No! We got this, so please stop saying that! Walmart will have an auto shop. Someone there will know how we can to fix this.”

Walmart wasn’t much farther beyond the Costco parking lot that we crossed through. Most people paid no attention to us, until one man came running towards us and bent down to assist with the wobbling wheel. In English he said, “You are in Mexico now! (As if I didn’t know. We just navigated a left hand turn with a lame wheel on a hill of two way traffic with no cross-walk in a Spanish speaking country.) “No one here is going to help you!” He shouted, “No one here likes Americans.” “I am very sorry about that,” I said while he pushed the wheel back in and spun the locking clip that refused to latch.”Where are you going?” He asked. “We are going to Walmart. We will get something there to help with the wheel.” He pointed. “Oh It’s far. (It wasn’t) No one will help you. My own family has been separated. I cannot see them!” He was speaking very quickly. I could not make out everything he was saying, but I felt his anxiety and told him, “I understand’ without spilling fuel on his angst. I thanked him and continued on. “Watch the wheel” I told my daughter, “So I can watch for cars.” “Be careful!” the man shouted.

Both CostCo and Walmart overlook a hillside community of multicoloured concrete dwellings that Mayte told us about when she graciously took us to CostCo on our first day. This is where poor people live,” she said. I couldn’t help but compare the view from our hotel window onto the wealthier hillside benches where pristine, white houses striped my view, while the less fortunate houses were adorned in a spectrum of ragged colour. I considered how I painted murals on the back and side of our house before I could afford to landscape the property. Everything was sandy dirt that plugged up the screens and trailed into the house. I needed the color. I suppose the families on the painted hillside feel the same.
Walmart did not have an auto shop and no one there spoke a word of English. The presence of our Golden Doodle, Julius’ service dog, was less than welcoming. A short, stocky woman kept pointing at our Lilac, glaring into my eyes and ranting. Knowing the words she was saying wasn’t necessary to understand her content. The best we could do was to walk away from her, but she found us again and continued. Luckily, someone kind was willing to help us with the wheel. He didn’t really do anything more than push it on, just as we had been doing, but for some reason he managed to lock it into place and the wheel has stayed since. But, we chose not to make that walk again.

So, there we stood at the window of the twelfth floor strategising how we could cross the street to the side where the hospital grounds and plaza were. “You know,” I said, “If we time it right, and take two lanes at a time, we could make it across.” “No” Jove shook her head without question, “uh uh.” “Just watch for a minute,” I urged. There were three main thorough-ways comprised of two lanes each and a fourth lane on the other side that veered off from the rest. Between each section of blacktop were grassy plantings traced in curbs. From our view above, the curbs looked flat, but I knew that down below they were 8-10 inches high. We could surely get across the two outer sections where the traffic moved slower with gaps between clusters of cars. But those center double lanes moving in opposite directions were for non-stopping traffic, heading straight through this area. Those cars traveled much faster and had little distance between. “Right there!” I said, pointing to a gap in the slower lane on our side. “There’s an opening, see!” Jove watched “Yeah, but what about the middle lanes?” We kept looking, studying. “Maybe there? After that black car?” I said, but in a second the opening was gone. “MOM!! NO!! WE’LL DIE!” She’s very dramatic. I scoffed, still analyzing. But she was probably right. Even if we made it across the pavement, we’d ram the curb. There was no shoulder. No breathing room. And the grassy area was mounded high. If we got that far, we could fall backwards lifting the front of the chair. Making it across would be a Hail Mary at best and then we’d need the same odd luck to get back. “Hmmm…We’ll figure it out” I finally said and we turned around to go back to our room where Jules and Lilac waited.

Two days later, we successfully made it across the street. Victor, the bellman and shuttle driver told PJ, another parent here with her daughter for treatment, texted me that there was a way across through the underground parking garage. “An underground sidewalk? There is an underground sidewalk!” We searched for it. The security guard insisted there was no walkway across. Then, I got a little more information from PJ who texted, “ Go toward the park and around the police station.” Huh? The police station is a curved building with a circular flange at the bottom that, I suppose, is considered a sidewalk, but it is way to narrow for Julius’ wheelchair and there are three high curbs to hurdle and curving, blind traffic to consider. “We aren’t doing it mom!” Jove, would not even consider trying. “This makes no sense,” I said, “Stay here and I’ll go over myself to check it out. I turned to the right and found nothing but obstacles. I crossed back to the kids and Lilac and we returned to our room. Hmpf.

The following day, we tried again, reading PJ’s text very carefully, following exactly. ‘Take the parking garage elevator down to S2, go left, head towards the park, and around the police station.’ “Okay, so instead of going to the right around the station, let’s try going to the left around,” I said, “but from here, we’ll stay on this side of the street, just the same as when we go to the park.” Jove was listening carefully, but was clearly doubtful. I continued with the first part of the plan. “Then, when we get there to the road that runs along the park, we will look around the police station and see what’s there.”

My daughter was very reluctant. We had been up that street in the opposite direction when we walked to the HEB grocery store where they were holding my rolling suitcase full of food. I accidentally left my credit card back at the hotel so I had to walk back and get it. The kids were watching TV and I insisted the walk wasn’t so bad and that they could come with me, Lilac, too. Lesson: No dogs, even service dogs, are allowed in grocery stores in Mexico. I did not know this. That must be why the woman at the SuperWalmart was so mad at me. But, I brought the kids because I was worried about leaving them again and the route really didn’t seem that bad when I was by myself. I was wrong. “Mom, you said this was gonna be easy!” Jove complained as the heavily packed wheeled luggage toppled from one side to the other. Somewhere along the way, two of the raw eggs smashed inside. “You should have told me there were eggs in there, mom. I wouldn’t have been kicking it.”

Although, we did our best in the heat, it would have been better to leave the kids in front of the TV for that mission. On our way back, another narrow chunk of sidewalk, just over a curb, refused to let us on and we found ourselves jammed with Julius’ toes caught in a chain link fence with a large area of thicket growing on the inside of it. He started to cry and my daughter yelled in distress. I knew, if I were to let go of the chair’s push handle we would fall backwards because the back wheels weren't fully on the skinny sidewalk. I froze in place for a split second, concerned about losing that back wheel again. Before I could adjust, a young guy appeared from around the curve of the wire fence and nearly collided with us. He was as surprised to see us as we were to see him. He immediately grabbed the front of the wheelchair, dislodging Julius' toes and allowing me to back the chair up just enough without falling off the curb. In one coordinated movement, the three of us turned the chair in the direction from which he came and he continued on past us. "Gracias!" we called out all sweaty. "De nada," he said as if it weren't a big deal. I leaned in toward my daughter and said, “He came out of nowhere, right when we needed him! You know, that's how the angles work." Her stressed face softened and she mustered a flush smile.

Back by the police station, I realised that PJ must have not yet attempted to get her daughter in her wheelchair across the street, when she sent me that text. It became clear that the directions she was passing onto us from Victor, she hadn’t actually tried. And Victor, who speaks English fluently wasn’t great about directions. When he shuttled us to the Aquarium, not far beyond the Walmart, he failed to tell us that the aquarium was located inside the shopping mall, an important detail. None-the-less, I was determined. The four of us were going to get across the street without harm. The road that would get us there dipped beneath an overpass. There was a sidewalk wide enough and even enough, except for a traffic sign cemented right into the middle of it. An oversight that happens often, even in the US. With that barrier, we’d surely fall off into the street. “Ok, one step at a time,” I said, “The traffic on this street is not bad and moving slower. We are going to walk in the street, tucking close to the curb, pushing in the same direction as the traffic. There is enough room for the cars to go around us.” Down we went, under the overpass and when we came up we saw it- a round-about with traffic lights!. No sidewalks, but we could move with the traffic and get to the other side on a green light.

Starbucks, here we come! I flagged it in my google maps. But, we didn’t exactly make it that easily. We, unknowingly, took the back road behind the sky scrapers, expecting to come out the other side. Instead we found a sanctuary for dogs with lots of shaded trees and land where they could roam. The dogs were as curious to see us as we were to see them. They were gorgeous, well cared for and very happy. When we found ourselves behind the hospital, with no way into the grounds we turned back, said hi to Lilac’s friends again and worked our way over from the front side. “But mom, how are we going to cross over to the plaza?” By then my hands were slipping on the handlebar from my sweat. “One step at a time Adajove. Otherwise, it’s all too much. Lets get Starbucks first and cool down.” Inside the hospital Starbucks, we ran into Mayte, who was about to get another family from Columbia ready for their intake. The kids and I found a reasonably easy opening to the plaza and spent the rest of the afternoon there, where Jules and Lilac napped, I read, and Jove played in the fountains. “I love it here, mom! It’s my favourite place!! Can we come back?” (She really did say that.)

Later, a text came through from PJ, who had a gift card for Starbucks and was also trying to get over there. It read “These sidewalks are awful. (Mad emoji face) Holy Crap. How the heck did you do that w Julius? Lord have mercy!”
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The photos are of us in the medical plaza across the street from our hotel. I absolutely LOVE those rockers!! I want to bring one home, but traveling with one chair is already enough. They are called Huey Rocking Chairs designed by artist Anthony Allan. Allan should extend his design skills to encourage the city to make some curved, wheelchair accessible walkways don’t ya think?