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<text id=93TT1036>
<title>
Mar. 01, 1993: Dr. Jacobs' Alternative Mission
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
Mar. 01, 1993 You Say You Want a Revolution...
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
HEALTH, Page 43
Dr. Jacobs' Alternative Mission
</hdr>
<body>
<p>A new NIH office will put unconventional medicine to the test
</p>
<p>By ANASTASIA TOUFEXIS
</p>
<p> "A teenage Navajo mother in blue jeans would come in with a
baby who was suffering from a cold and ask for some medication,"
recalls Dr. Joe Jacobs, summoning up a scene from his days at
the Indian Medical Center in Gallup, New Mexico. "She'd be accompanied
by the grandmother in traditional hoop skirt, who kept silent."
After examining the child, Jacobs would offer his prescription
for soothing inflamed nasal passages: boil some sage leaves
in water and have the youngster inhale the aromatic fumes. "When
she'd hear that, the young mother invariably would give the
grandmother a sheepish smile. It was just what the older woman
had been urging her to do, and they'd been arguing about it."
</p>
<p> Jacobs has a healthy respect for grandmothers' folk remedies
and for unconventional therapies in general. He comes by it
naturally. For though he is a conventionally trained pediatrician,
he is also the son of a part-Cherokee father and full-blooded
Mohawk mother, who used to break out the herbs and tonics whenever
he and his two brothers and sister had a fever or bellyache.
"There would always be long-necked bottles filled with liquids
sitting on a shelf in the closet, and a few bags of dried leaves--turtle socks and other things--that could be brewed into
foul-tasting teas." At the same time, Jacobs continues, "my
mother recognized that more serious illnesses needed a regular
physician."
</p>
<p> That unusually broad experience led officials at the National
Institutes of Health to pick Jacobs to head their new Office
of Alternative Medicine. The office was created last year under
pressure from a Congress alarmed by the soaring costs of high-tech
healing and the frustrating fact that so many ailments--AIDS,
cancer, arthritis, back pain--have yet to yield to standard
medicine. In the breach, Americans have turned with growing
enthusiasm to an array of unorthodox remedies, including hypnosis,
biofeedback, homeopathy, acupuncture and herbs. According to
the New England Journal of Medicine, a third of the population
today consults alternative healers, shelling out nearly $14
billion a year for their services. Most is paid out of pocket,
since such treatments are rarely covered by insurance. "They
could be just as good, cheaper and safer than many of the drugs
and treatments we now use," asserts Jacobs, 46, "but they're
still unproven."
</p>
<p> To alternative healers, the effort is welcome news. "While a
few worry that it's a plan to trap and discredit them, most
look at this as a chance to be vindicated after years of being
called lunatics," says Jacobs. The medical community has been
cooler. Though the office's $2 million appropriation is a pittance
in NIH's overall annual budget of more than $10 billion, critics
resent that any sum is being diverted from traditional research.
Some carp that the office will be a refuge for quacks--a charge
Jacobs flatly denies. "We're not created to rubber-stamp questionable
practices."
</p>
<p> With an M.D. from Yale and an M.B.A. from Wharton, Jacobs is
a bona fide member of the Establishment. At the same time, his
heritage has given him an outsider's perspective. Born in Brooklyn,
New York, Jacobs spent part of his youth on Mohawk reservations
upstate and in Canada, where "I was criticized by relatives
and friends for being too educated." But he also lived in Anglo
communities in New York and New Jersey, where "I was often the
darkest-skinned child in my class."
</p>
<p> Among his most piercing memories is watching his fellow Boy
Scouts being inducted into the Order of the Arrow. "There I
was, the only real Indian, and they were dancing around the
campfire in loincloths," he recalls. "It was both ironic and
offensive." To fit in, Jacobs largely rejected his Indian background
during his adolescent years. Today, however, the Connecticut
home he shares with two children and his art historian wife
Mary Jane Clark ("a full-blooded Wasp," he notes) boasts a room
filled with Indian keepsakes. The family will soon be relocating
to the Washington area, where Clark will find an old schoolmate:
her dorm counselor at Wellesley, Hillary Rodham Clinton.
</p>
<p> Jacobs is already spending his weeks at the NIH campus. With
a staff that includes a pharmacist, an immunologist and a psychologist,
he is crafting standards for the 10 two-year research projects
the office plans to fund at $100,000 each. Jacobs expects to
steer clear of alternative therapies already being studied by
other NIH departments, including the use of transcendental meditation
for cardiovascular disease and acupuncture for substance abuse.
"We may look at touch therapy, which is said to make patients
better quicker," he says. "Or homeopathy, to relieve allergies,
bronchitis or insomnia." He is also intrigued by wood ear, a
tree fungus used in making moo shu pork, which is supposed to
be a great blood thinner.
</p>
<p> Treatments for cancer and AIDS are also high on his list. One
healer, for example, claims to have isolated a substance in
urine that turns tumor cells back to normal. The new office
might also look into a faddish AIDS therapy that has patients
paying up to $20,000 to be hooked up to dialysis-like machines
that pump ozone into the bloodstream.
</p>
<p> To evaluate such remedies, Jacobs will rely on both standard
trials and an increasingly popular research technique: analyzing
the outcome of differing therapies in matched groups of patients.
Such a study, he explains, might compare the effects of bee
pollen with conventional antihistamines in treating allergies.
Since alternative healers are new to scientific studies, the
office will take steps to monitor the validity of records and
results. At a minimum, Jacobs hopes to provide a service to
consumers. At best, he says, "we may help promote a revolution
in thinking among practitioners and researchers. It's a bold
new venture, sort of like being on the starship Enterprise.
We're going where no one has gone before."
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>