I was worried about my face so last night, I emailed my new primary care doctor who is AMAZING. When I woke up late, for me, at 9 something, I had a message that they’d put me in a 10:45 appointment. I went in, we decided I need antibiotics.
On the way out, I asked the young woman at the front desk: should I stop at the drug store on the way home? You’re so much faster here than anyone else! She said: yep, the prescription should be there.
So, I think what’s been happening is when food gets stuck in corners or twisted sections of my intestines, it creates toxins. In Chinese Medicine, when there are these types of sores on the skin, it means the toxins are trying to get out. And in my new herbal book - YES I ACTUALLY READ SOME OF IT LAST NIGHT, it happened to open to a page on detox, and strangely enough I REMEMBER WHAT IT SAID, ok probably because I read like one paragraph BUT STILL I REMEMBERED IT - it said that the skin is usually the LAST place the body likes to get rid of toxins.
Just in case anyone is wondering: I am very judicious about antibiotics (75% of antibiotic is used in animal livestock as preventative, which is unnecessary and a large contributor to antibiotic resistant strains of bacteria, please only take them when you absolutely need them! Otherwise, medically fragile people like me and my dad are at risk for a strain that can’t be fought).
I take them only every several years - that’s not very often for someone with as many medical issues as I have. I agreed to them because I’m positive there is an infection brewing inside - the correlation between these sores on my face and problems in my gut is clear now. I have to remember this when I get the next twist. So much to remember. I try writing it all down, but it’s still not organized which is so maddening for me.
I really, really wish I had time to start experimenting with herbal concoctions.
If we had a different government…the last two years of activism probably cost me…who knows what it cost me.
I signed up for a class on how to make homemade herbal remedies! I’m SO excited for it. I have a few bright spots in my life and being able to take classes about things I’ve wanted to learn for years is one of them. It’s at the end of July which means I won’t be able to spend much time in the garden but I called ahead and they said we’ll mostly be inside. It’s at the school I got my nutrition degree, Bastyr University. It’s a naturopathic school that has it’s own healing / herbal garden!
I wanted to study this in my twenties - I nearly went to a weeks long course in, i want to say, New Mexico? I probably didn’t do it because I wanted to be careful with my money. Ugh! Maybe one day, I can still do it when it’s not too hot down there. Even though the dry heat isn’t great for my system, there are a few alternative docs who are concerned about me and mold.
The space I’m living in is half underground, right near a lake in a very rainy city. I have a test to assess if I have mold in my body, but I haven’t taken it yet. I really should. I’ve suspected for years but never dealt with it. The moistness is good for me because of the adrenals, but the dry weather is better for me overall.
I never used kleenex when I lived in San Diego. I didn’t even carry any in my purse. In the Northwest, that’s not the case!
My mom just took my dad back to the ER. Yep, that’s THREE times this week. His home nurse today was PISSED they didn’t admit him last night. Right before I was about to leave, my mom texted that they were on the way home.
There’s not much to do other than observe him and make sure that clot in the artery doesn’t take him out needlessly. But they don’t admit people to observe anymore! Well, probably if he was younger and had awesome insurance, he’d be admitted.
His home nurse called the hospital and his primary doctor did too. They both insisted that they admit him.
He still has to go through the ER though.
Just now, my mom muttered something before they left. I didn’t hear her.
She said: he’s so sad. He’s so sad about having to go back to the hospital.
Fucking nightmare this whole thing. As if dying wasn’t enough.
They make your experience hellish in the mean time.
He and I should be chilling, having home care whenever we can. Not stressed about money. Not stressed about if our medication will be covered. Not stressed about doctors.
Some people need to buy a yacht! Or, prove to their brother-in-law that they’re better!
Whatever the reason.
I don’t get it. I said that on Facebook and I really don’t.
I don’t know why I’m like this. My dad grew up getting by, they weren’t well off at all. My mom grew up all right - she could buy whatever clothes she wanted, wow I just realized that neither of them ever changed their relationship with money since childhood, how interesting - but just from that pawn shop, nothing else. We’re one of the first Jewish families that settled here in Seattle.
The others - not all - but a few families, did very well for themselves. We stayed in that middle class, own a business, can take a vacation, maybe two, and buy some nice clothes, but that’s it.
The thing that much of the upper crust isn’t seeing is that the reason the low-low income people have never risen up is because a demographic that’s been beaten down so long, and have few resources, don’t have the bandwidth for an uprising.
Now, you take the middle class. The WORKING class, the people who are entitled - I can say that because I am one of them - and think they deserve a certain style of living. Well. These are people who also have a lot of connections across different demographics because we’re in the middle of it all! When you’re working class, you interact with more people. That’s not to say that this isn’t possible among the upper upper crust.
But by virtue of how that demographic works, there is a lot of sectioning themselves off from the rest of the world.
This is crux of what’s going on in America.
When they’re around only each other, and only conversing with people just like themselves, they start to believe their own fictional narratives. They essentially enable each other’s poor behavior and belief systems.
This is why AOC (if you don’t know who that is, I’m going to gently recommend googling it) just laughs at how the white old men try to dig at her.
They sound ridiculous to us. Oh yeah! Make fun of the fact that we know how to WORK our asses off! That lands well in this country.
She talked about how bartending gave her a lot of skills she uses as a politician. Listening to people, giving advice, dealing with rude people, being treated like shit, working on your feet.
Now if you piss off an entire demographic of THOSE people?
It’s so sad, isn’t it? How we ALL know the quote about history repeating itself. And yet us dense humans do the same shit over and over again.
Like me writing down the same epiphanies over and over again in my journals.
Why does it take us SO long to have a life lesson penetrate our skulls? No, our souls?
My goal is to make sure all sides are treated ok. I can’t help it. I’m loud and mouthy and as I’ve admitted, I’ve got a temper. But I’m actually a real softie like my dad. I can’t stand the thought of people being in pain, even if I’m not big fans.
I don’t even want to hurt those men in DC.
I think a lot of it is influenced by hormones. I’m still working on my theories - they're not ready for sharing at this time. But I think about this a lot now that I have to modify my own hormones - which impact SO much, even my thinking and attitude. It’s TRIPPY. The scientist in me loves assessing all of that. This is the kind of information that I struggle to organize. I realized it’s because I have to think about my own medical case / body all day, so it makes it hard to switch tracks in my mind and think about nutrition information for chronic inflammation.
I think I finally thought of a way to BEGIN to at least share it.
I’m so nervous I’m going to end up peacing out like my dad, over the span of a few months, and not get everything I want to say out yet. I know that’s why I end up writing these long meandering posts in here.
I figure, just get it out. The stories. The snippets about me and my life. My philosophies. And then add a link to another piece that has more nutrition and medical info. That way, if someone else is like meh I don’t want to read that, they keep going. The people who are interested click over to that section where I start bucketing them AS i write them. I’m very much at the mercy of the words and their preferred timing. So start with the words that bubble up, and work from there instead of forcing words to come from an already created outline.
Who the fuck knows if that will work. We shall see!
This way, at the very least, I leave a bit of my nutrition knowledge inside of other books which can somewhat serve a guidebook for anyone looking for my take on things. Some scaffolding of what I might say or advise in different situations.
Especially for the kids. I know it wouldn’t be the same as having me here. Sigh.
Which is why I stay. For them. More than anything, I don’t want them to see cancer or illness as something that holds you back.
You carry on. You find a way. You make the best of it. You transform the lemons, not just into lemonade, but lemon curd, and lemon bars, and ooooh lemon poppyseed muffins. Oh I love my lemon desserts.
I can still eat lemon curd!
Of course, I mostly find it gross now. But I don’t totally hate it which is good.
I want to figure out how to make more gelatinous things using non-sweet foods. I’m not good at the food science piece. That’s not a strength. That, any sort of science experiment I’m complete disaster at.
I’m also terrible with anything spatial and mechanical - when I moved out of my San Diego apartment, I had an entire large ziplock of leftover parts from building my Ikea furniture. My friends were like: wtf? I said: yeah but that’s always how many parts I have leftover, that’s normal right? They laughed their asses off. But they still took my furniture. I should have photographed the back of one shelf. I got so impatient, I started hammering nails in and it was all bent and fucked up. I’m laughing just thinking about it. Ok, good to laugh. Needed that. So no, don’t ever ask me to build something.
Thankfully, the oldest is super excited to learn more food science.
It’s funny when people say: oh, you’re dad is a runner and you’re the nutritionist, that worked out for your health issues!
And I’m thinking: WHY DO YOU THINK WE CHOSE THEM?
Man, it felt so good to laugh.
I love watching all these kids grow up and it’s cool to see them developing into their own people. It’s so hard when they’re so small. It’s nice getting to an age where the kids are becoming more independent.
Time for my Friday afternoon nap.
The antibiotics will make me sleepy. I start to relax for a minute and then I start to worry about my dad. It’s like this constant hum of stress and grief and worry on a constant hum in my mind, and down in my body too.
I was sitting next to him in the living room earlier and he was reading the paper. That’s all the poor guy wants to do. Is sit on that damn couch, watch endless sports and read the newspaper.
I don’t think he’s ever taken more than a week off since he was 22 years old. Not in my memory.
He started the box business out of our living room. There was one in Portland so he started cold calling around Seattle looking for customers. This was around 1975? 1976? I was about four or five years old. That’s why so many people knew him. And loved him. He was always so nice to everyone, went out of his way to be good to our community. Brought boxes home and left them on the porch for whoever was moving or needed a handful for something else.
When he started the business, we lived in this cool house in Ravenna. We had a blue Mustang! For real! And of course, my dad had a mustache.
We had a dog named Whiskers but after it nearly killed my brother - it wrapped it’s leashed around my brothers legs and was about to take off down the porch stairs but somehow, my mom grabbed my brother in time - they got rid of him.
We got another dog after I got bit by the dog at camp. My parents didn’t want me to be scared of dogs. I got to name him Sandy. Because of course, I was still a huge Annie fan. I must have been around 11 years old.
I still have dreams of Sandy. He’s always so happy and does these little flips in the air. He was the best dog. I really want one now. I go through phases where I’m like: ok, it’s not the right time. It’s fine. Other times I want one SO bad. Not the right time.
I really do need to rest. When I woke up this morning, I didn’t have a chance to slowly wake up. I didn’t realize how half asleep I still was until I was driving. I was really…wobbly is the best word to describe it. I got behind a truck and focused on it’s taillights. This was at 10am! When I walked through the parking lot, I had my hand out next to each car as I passed by. I’m strong and have good balance, but I must be smart about how I navigate the world now.
It’s so hard to imagine that I would have such old lady tendencies now.
But I do.
I made it there and finally woke up by the time I left.
I wonder how many people in this country die of something that is highly correlated with malnourishment.
Probably a lot.
I have to go back to texting with my friend who made out with Keanu Reeves. For real! Back in the New York days. Well before I got there. Nicest guy ever. It’s especially fun that he’s a hot item right now, though we have dedicated other entire conversations to him. We like discussing super ridiculous things like that. She’s the only one that would be texting this sort of thing right after my heavy post.
She knows me well. Get me talking about something random that I enjoy talking about. Keep engaging with the person about that thing. It’s a lifeline.