A friend—who knows my true sentiments (which are just as noble as those of others who have studied humanity—much as I have, albeit from different angles)—is currently reading my book and said to me:
“You’re going to have trouble with the doctors.”
Here is how I replied:
“Why do we refuse to accept autism as a disease?
Giving it other names runs counter to the very reason people consult a doctor rather than turning to anyone else.
Accepting this fact would make their work much easier.”
I wasn’t born yesterday.
Aside from achieving the seemingly impossible—feats bordering on miracles—within my own field of hospitality
(a sister discipline to medical care, as both are dedicated to human well-being across all genders and ages), it was my long professional career that enabled me to become such a versatile individual.
My objective is to help this prestigious field view this phenomenon from a different angle, in order to put an end to it once and for all—for it is a phenomenon that defies science, which remains, to this day, in the research phase.
Must the human sciences alone hold absolute dominion over human existence?
Who am I to pose such a question?
As you may have gathered from what I wrote above, I am someone who succeeded where renowned specialists failed.
It all began with my own escape from the clutches of death—an ordeal over which we ultimately triumphed.
At a time when my wife was eight months pregnant of our daughter (who has just turned forty), she was struck down by Hepatitis C, accompanied by several other complications—including severe bronchitis—and other medical issues, much in the same way that autism is currently classified as a complication. After five days of hospitalization, the three doctors attending her bedside—a general practitioner, a gynecologist, and a pediatrician—had exhausted all their efforts to try and bring the illness under control.
Five days later, the three doctors had washed their hands of the case and were merely waiting for the fatal outcome.
This story is recounted fully in my text on Covid 19
Did you notice how the geriatrician reacted? She asked me if I would be willing to assist her with other patients who were at the same stage as the one I had just helped pull through such a grave crisis.
It was the same answer I had given to the patients and visitors who had come to witness the miracle that had occurred in my wife’s case at the hospital , they were asking me to do the same for their own relatives.
People fall ill due to a lack of genuine love.
My answer reflected the sentiment I expressed in my book when addressing the issue of autism: “Unwavering love—that is precisely what is lacking among our parents and within our families.”
Why do we speak of “symptoms” and “afflictions” when it comes to autism?
In my view, this condition is emotional in nature rather than pathological.
Perhaps the doctors are right not to want to venture onto such terrain.
You now understand why I speak of “Spiritual Masters” in my book—people capable of helping us cultivate true and authentic love for our fellow human beings.
Everything else is mere conjecture and embellishment that serves only to perpetuate human suffering.
All rights reserved.
Frantz Rimpel
ISBN: 9798262442447
This commentary serves as a sequel to the story—a series of events that had, until then, eluded me.
On this Easter Sunday,
after savoring a hearty dinner—a meal he had enlivened with his customary zest—my patient and I settled in together. It was a choice feast, though the guest list was most exclusive: it consisted solely of him, my wife, and myself. We had deliberately chosen not to invite anyone else, wishing to put him further at ease so that we might continue his therapy.
To ensure his comfort even more fully—particularly at dessert time, a moment he cherished and for which we had prepared a special treat—I suggested we retire to the living room.
This seemed a timely move, for our conversation was beginning to take a political turn—a subject on which he was absolutely adamant about remaining perfectly informed.
As if guided by an invisible force, I felt inspired to hand him a book detailing the major achievements of the Magloire presidency. To our utter astonishment, he proved unable to read; when I pressed him to try—going so far as to help him decipher a single sentence—his head suddenly slumped to the side, and he began to snore.
My wife, accompanied by Chantale—my nurse, who had just finished her own meal in the pantry—then joined me in a small adjoining room that served as our family living area.
Together, we strove to make sense of the revelation we had just witnessed.
For while our patient had, until that moment, shown himself incapable of walking—requiring the combined aid of a cane and an attendant to support his weight—
another great surprise now awaited us. We watched him approach us—completely unassisted and without the slightest hesitation—simply asking where he might find a restroom.
I rushed to his side to offer my assistance, for he had already traversed a considerable distance, from the living room to the spot where we stood.
Once he reached the restroom, he managed to undress completely without any help; I then discreetly withdrew to afford him his privacy.
I waited for him in my bedroom, which happened to be the room adjacent to the restroom he was using. I then heard him call out to me jovially: “Rim”—the nickname he typically used when addressing me. He said, “Hand me some underwear so I can take off this baby getup.” I complied, for I could see that he had regained control of the situation.
When he reappeared, he came to sit with us and asked me to give him a full report—from start to finish—regarding his condition, step by step. I provided him with a comprehensive summary and recounted how he had lost the ability to read—adding, however, that we would make another attempt once we were back at his home later that day.
Fortunately, after a few attempts, his memory returned; he then read an entire page of a book without the slightest sign of fatigue.
I left that day at eleven o’clock that night.
Some time later, Professor Wesner Désir—representing the National Radio and Television network—approached him. Wishing to produce a program dedicated to the writer Jacques Roumain (author of *Gouverneurs de la Rosée*) in order to commemorate a special anniversary, he asked him to grant a televised interview, pointing out that he had known Jacques personally and had remained close to his family.
And there it was: a resounding success.