Proceeding with caution

His surgery, known as liberation treatment, opens up blocked veins in the neck and upper chest. This, in turn, halts the pattern of brain damage associated with the disease.

Hospitals all over the world, mostly in Europe and Asia, have adopted the technique, and MS patients everywhere are queuing up for it.

That includes Rick and Heidi Pittman, a St. John’s couple who both suffer from the disease. They told their story to The Telegram two weeks ago.

A couple of Newfoundlanders have already had the procedure done, and have reported positive results.

This province’s health minister, Jerome Kennedy, recently joined other Canadian jurisdictions in announcing funding for clinical trials of the treatment here. There’s little doubt it will become an accepted procedure under provincial insurance before long.

Some may question the earlier reticence of the Newfoundland government, among others, in jumping on board the liberation bandwagon.

But there were two sound reasons for restraint.

First, the sea of alternative remedies that arise here and in other parts of the globe is a difficult one to navigate. Every other day, someone is jumping aboard a plane for some last-ditch cure for a serious ailment. It’s understandable, but heartbreaking, that someone in misery and despair would grasp at almost anything to alleviate the suffering. But there is so much quackery out there, and governments must balance compassion with the cold light of reason in considering the efficacy of all such treatments.

Second, and most importantly, Zamboni himself cautioned patients and medical authorities not to jump the gun. In announcing his results several month ago, he requested that everyone be patient as his research and trial surgeries continued.

This was perhaps the best indicator that something exciting was afoot. Because Zamboni had spent several years examining MS patients and discovering the one commonality that seemed to explain the characteristic brain lesions in all of them.

They say there are rarely any big surprises in medicine. It’s usually a steady stream of small discoveries and improvements.

But in Paolo Zamboni’s case, he’d have been forgiven for blurting out, at some point, that great Greek cry of discovery: Eureka!

Or perhaps the Italian equivalent.