And continuing the Australian connection mentioned above is this testimony from 1997:File found online here.
My wife nearly died of fatigue
Stephen Taylor tells how in desperation he and Stephania turned to a Korean ‘ki’ master for a cure
Living with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS) was a season in hell. Stephania could barely look after herself during the day, while I worked to repay what I’d borrowed for the treatments that hadn’t cured her.
On her bad days she didn’t have the strength to hold up a paperback. Those days, she could just make it from the bed to the bathroom and back.
In the evenings, I would cook for her. At one point her allergies stopped her from eating anything but rice porridge. Her joints and muscles ached all the time. I hadn’t been able to hug her for two years. She could bear a shower only twice a week. Her eyes were circled with exhaustion and her nights filled with sweats. Foggy with fatigue, frightened, she suffered suicidal depressions.
This was my beautiful wife, six and a half years after our romance on a Wisconsin farm, after which she joined me in Australia; six years since she’d contracted a heavy ’flu from which she never seemed to recover fully. Before,she’d been 30, fashion-conscious, full of energy and excitement. Now she was 37, going on 80.
There is no conventional treatment for CFS. We’d tried some unconventional treatments and exhausted our reserves of money and strength. Now even travelling had become a major commitment. We were no longer willing to try anything without good prospects of results.
One avenue we’d tried was Qigong. Our friend Sue Pieters-Hawke (daughter of former prime minister Bob Hawke), had been cured after seven year years of CFS by five weeks in a Qigong institute in China. But we failed to find anything here. We prepared for a long, slow recovery.
Laughter was important. Steph could not read much but she could watch videos. I set a TV up at the foot of the bed and twice a week rented 10 videos: musicals and romantic comedies. She watched about 600 that year, and nearly wore out her copy of The Sound of Music.
Slowly she crept out of the pit. Starting in 1990, the illness had peaked in late 1992, confining her to bed. A year later we married, in a friend’s beach house where she could lie down when she needed to.
Our families flew in from overseas, the first time they had seen Steph since her collapse. I remember her mother leaving our bedroom the first time she saw Steph. She came out of the door and her face crumpled: “My daughter’s dying.”
And she was, I think now. By 1995, Steph could use a wheelchair to appear in public. Although we seemed to be making our way slowly out of the pit, her tiny reserves of energy left her desperately vulnerable, frequently bed-bound.
Then the friend who had organised our wedding told us of a Chun Do Sun Bup “ki” energy training in Chatswood, Sydney. We went for a look.
Steph rested in bed for two days for the 20-minute drive. In Chatswood there were steps from the street. Steph hauled herself up hand over hand on the rail. Inside she made straight for a sofa. Stooped and shuffling, she looked like an old woman.
The Koreans were a breath of fresh air. Where others had been uncertain, they were confident. CFS, they could fix that: 90 per cent of her normal energy back within three weeks; then a few months after that rebuilding stamina and resilience. No downside: none of the “got to get worse before you get better” we’d heard elsewhere when results didn’t come.
The masters were graceful, vigorous and loving. We both felt we were in safe hands: even if it didn’t work, we would come to no harm there. Best of all, we could afford it. Their program costs hundreds, not thousands of dollars. We would train together. The masters told us that this way, Steph could draw upon my strength.
In practical terms the training consisted of one-hour classes, where we did breathing exercises, slow movements and meditation. One day, three weeks after we began, we were late for class. Steph sprang out of the car (she hates being late) and trotted up the same steps she’d laboured up three weeks before. She turned to me impatiently. “Hurry up!” she said. Six weeks after we started, she drove herself to class.
The masters offered us more explanations of the training. Though I’d had some exposure to Buddhism, their accounts of ancestral influence upon the body’s energy system, and the powerful healing energy available from mountain and sea, just left me amazed.
But I loved the results. Chun Do Sun Bup is widely known in Korea, but few masters speak English. We were unbelievably lucky to have a centre here.
This year Stephania has been able to visit the Koreans’ headquarters in a mountain valley called DaeRaChun, for which one translation is “heaven”.
And only two years ago we were living in hell.
The Taylors live in Balgowlah, NSW. The Chun Do Sun Bup Institute in Chatswood, Sydney