Christmas 2012

Cheers!

Lough Derg: A Bird's-Eye View of the River Shannon

Hello, Friends,

I think I've made it fairly clear (!) that I'm championing the saving of Ireland's River Shannon.  But from what? 

From Dublin's plans to pump mega-amounts of water from the River Shannon into Dublin City.  This could prove to be an environmental disaster for the River Shannon and all the beauty, fishing, boating, tourism, art, and folklore that surrounds her.  

Toward the end of encouraging others to help Ireland preserve the Shannon (see topmost link on the upper right sidebar), I found a most unique video to share with you.  To my eye, it's really something special.  It's got a personality all its own.  As I watched, I could just feel the expanse of the water all around me, as though I were right there in the water.  Breathtaking views!

Nature lovers, please take note!  This is the Shannon lake, Lough Derg, from which Dublin seeks to extract 350 million liters of water per day:

Please link this page to others!

Thank you, and . . .

Cheers!

~ Daisies [Carolyn]

How It Feels to Have MCS (Daisies' view)

Hello, Friends,

My two posts, "Daisies" and "Daisies - Part II" were detailed and admittedly grueling to write, but I wrote both with the purpose of telling you a significant part of my own chemically afflicted background -- and to make it perfectly clear why I recognize homelessness as being the looming threat that it is to all chemically sensitive people.

Likewise, I've detailed my recent experiences with iodine as they relate to my present health status -- again with the hopes of plugging into something that might possibly be relevant to other chemically sensitive individuals.

Having said that, I would like to explore the topic of how it feels to be a toxically injured/chemically sensitive person --- and how it feels to write or talk about chemical sensitivity.  As each chemically sensitive person is unique and varies from the next person in background and emotional makeup, I wish to stress that, of course, I realize I can speak here only for myself.

My predominant emotional reaction to my own chemical sensitivity is a disgusted despondency, a self-conscious embarrassment.  Not embarrassment about the reality or nature of the affliction, itself, but embarrassment at being forced to speak about myself in this way to another person, merely in order to mitigate or eliminate something that makes me feel, for lack of a better word, "sick."  My own social code, otherwise, would propel me away, far away, from having to direct any attention to myself in this manner -- often upon just being introduced to someone, or upon seeing someone again after a long time . . .  And the topic is so unattractive, so seemingly ungracious.  It's a blot upon social loveliness.

In short, chemical sensitivity causes me to appear to misrepresent myself, and my idea of social graces, right off the bat.

I also feel extremely mortified every time I write a post, here, relating to myself or my physical condition.  I try to put that sense of mortification in the back of my mind, but I tell you honestly, I find the concept of detailing these things odious, ugly.  I forge my way through it with the hopes of ending it as quickly as possible and getting onto a more desirable topic.

But I know how very much the smallest details of other people's histories can, at times, beam an unexpected bright light into a very dark and bewildering experience.  If other people had not detailed their own agonizing experiences to what I'd generally consider a potentially "mortifying" extent, then I might never have realized what, exactly, afflicted me.  The same goes for mothers of sensory-challenged children, as another example, who might initially have no idea of what ails their child until they read the painstaking details of another child's story, written by his parent(s).  I also consider, as one more example, the mind-bending awakening of parents who realize, suddenly, through the smallest details of stories told by another parent, that their child might actually be on drugs.

Details matter.

The sad fact is that, while diligently compiling and transmitting details, the chemically sensitive person runs an extremely high risk of being misinterpreted and having his otherwise intact credibility being swept away by others' misunderstanding.

In colloquial terms, this knowledge leaves me with a weary, despondent feeling of, "Yes [deep sigh], I'm one of those persons."  Meaning, I'm one of those persons who are often mistakenly thought to be a little bit "off" in the head, a little paranoid, a little bit . . . let's say it:  crazy.  Oh, others may be nice about it, because they don't think you're really that far off the beam -- but, well, just a little bit off to the side somewhere.  But you're still lovable, although you really must be taken with a grain of salt . . .

So there is often this subtle, polite, guarded mistrust on the part of others.  A chemically sensitive person who has had to squeeze through this invisible barbed wire knows well the sense of this. 

There are, in this world, persons who are truly hysterical hypochondriacs who see doomsday at every turn.  I cannot tell you who they are and who they aren't.  But we humans know that these "afflictions of the mind" exist.  And simply knowing that hypochondriacs exist is enough to inspire in anyone a fear of being considered one of them.

Consequently, I often experience a sinking, "drop in the stomach" feeling at the thought of my own writing on this blog.  Every time I write a post, I experience an internal flinch, a quick flash of "subclinical" terror in which I ask myself, "Will I survive this post?"  

Translated:  "Will others now believe I've lost all my credibility?  Will they tune me out?"

Many will.  

But some won't.  And those "some" make this blog well worth the writing.

Cheers!

~ Daisies

"Daisies" - Part II

Hello, Friends,

Something is definitely happening from my giving up gluten and dairy while maintaining/increasing much-needed iodine levels.  Firstly, my chemical sensitivity reactions continue, for the most part, to be muted in their intensity.

Secondly, speed is coming back into my life.  I'm no longer slumping around the house feeling like sludge.  I'm skittering.  The sensation of lightness and coordination in my feet -- this is a sign.  It's a sign because it's happened before when major wellness was returning after a long, bad bout of something or other.

Yes, I can tell you exactly when this happened before!

It happened when we landed here, in this fresh-air house, the week I and my family had to leave our natural-gas-fueled log cabin because I could not breathe (see my earlier post entitled, "Daisies").  I went, literally overnight, from a person who could not bend over to pick a sock up off the floor without practically keeling over to a person who was nimbly racing up and down the staircase, here, doing one task after another.  I was already several months gluten-free at that time -- my first attempt at a gluten-free life.  But I hadn't been able to reap the benefits due to heavy vapors in the air from the natural-gas-powered appliances.

When we arrived here, however, despite the inglorious state of the house at that time, I began to thrive.

As the years went on, however, I began to doubt my gluten status and relaxed all my dietary restrictions.  I also began to consume dairy much more heavily -- which has turned out to have been a big problem.  And, as I've just recently learned, my iodine level was already plummeting.  The longer it plummets, the worse things get.  One problem feeds off another.

So, although the air quality here is superb (from my point of view), my entire system had recently been clogged with things I could not really tolerate . . . while I also lacked sufficient iodine.  On a systemic level, this is metaphorically like having no kindling for a fire and inhaling only the smoke of the embers.  A wood fire is something I can still tolerate, so long as I'm not close to it -- or to its smoke -- for long ("long" being a relative thing). 

This thought, however, leads me back to the topic of chemical inhalation -- and how my getting away from a toxic mix of gaseous vapors in our previous home was absolutely essential, not only to keeping the "spring" in my step, but to keeping me alive.  I had apparently become sensitized to natural gas and its combustion byproducts.

The week we ended up leaving our old home, nine years ago, I'd already gone to the emergency room twice for oxygen.  The oxygen not only helped -- it helped tremendously and basically "cured" my faintness/weakness and breathing difficulty.

The first day I'd arrived at the ER, the hospital staff assumed that the oxygen saturation monitor on my finger was "broken" because my reading was in the 70's.  Meanwhile, I was in a state of thinning physical alertness and near to collapse as I sat there with my frozen-feeling finger (I was cold and barely circulating).  The hospital staff's next assumption, for lack of a better conclusion in sight, was that I was experiencing a peanut allergy.  I had, therefore, perhaps the only peanut allergy on record to be cured by oxygen administration alone.  I had refused all drugs.  And, as a matter of interest, I eat peanut butter to this day.

By the third day (that same week nine years ago) that I felt strange and faint and started gulping for air, I wanted to go back to the ER for more oxygen.  However, I'd been filling out an application to visit a highly recommended alternative-medicine center -- and this application right in front of my face was asking me if I used natural gas appliances in the home.  Why, yes, I did use them!  In fact, at that very moment I was cooking pinto beans and onions on the stove (one remembers one's "last meal").

I was determined to complete that lengthy application while, at the same time, I was beginning to gasp for more air, feeling increasingly labored and stressed -- a sweaty, "you're on a treadmill getting nowhere" feeling.  When I arose from my chair to phone my husband about going to the ER yet again, my breathing worsened.  I told my husband, on the phone, about the natural-gas question on my questionnaire, which was nowhere near completed.  He looked up "natural gas" on his computer at work and located those few precious links I've included in my "Natural Gas" tab, above.

Based upon what he was reading, in sync with the importance of natural gas being on my questionnaire (natural gas being viewed by this alternative-medicine center as a chemical hindrance to good health), my husband urged me to open all the windows immediately and leave the house for fresh air rather than sit in the hospital for another five hours.  In light of this new information about natural gas, my husband's idea seemed a reasonable option.   I didn't really want to be in the ER again.  Who does?

The problem was, I now had trouble putting on my socks and sneakers.  When I went to aim my foot into my sock, I was no longer able to do so in the way I was accustomed.  Each foot just floundered in the air, unable to reach its intended destination.  I had to make several tries.  My coordination was deteriorating.  I struggled until somehow I got the aim right, and I squeezed my feet into the sneakers as fast as I could.  I then went to comb my hair in the bathroom.  As I looked at myself in the mirror and went to lift the comb to my hair, to my horror, I couldn't lift my arm to the level of my hair.  My arm had mysteriously become far too heavy.  It just "stopped" in mid-air.  The air felt like quicksand all around me.  This was a moment I would never forget.

I was now seriously unable to inhale whatever it was that I needed from the air.  Every breath was a labor, and it felt truly as though I were holding my breath while trying to breathe.  I finally made it out the door.

During the remainder of that day and a bit into the next day, I recovered my lung capacity.  Oxygen would have speeded this up nicely, but the goal was, indeed, met -- albeit in a much slower fashion -- by simply leaving the house.  It was hard, but my breathing recovered, progressing little by little, hour by hour.  I spent that day in my car in various parking lots, just breathing and breathing.  (It was cold and very windy outside, and I didn't want to be in any natural-gas-heated buildings).  As a matter of record, there were no peanut products implicated in this episode.  My system had been clear of them for a few days.

At this point, I'm making a special note here to you, my readers, as well as to myself:  Please make an effort to preserve, for yourselves, the text of the "natural gas" links in my tab, above.  A few of the original articles have already disappeared over the past few years.  I believe these links to be extremely valuable -- and rare -- resources.  I've not yet found any other such links, since then.

In summary, an innocuous-looking little question on an alternative-medicine application may very well have saved my life.  I say "may" in order to state things in a more scientifically accurate manner; however, on the personal level, I'm quite convinced that it did, in fact, save my life.  That little question -- plus the invaluable links on the health hazards of natural gas documented by the concerned residents of Nova Scotia.

May this information help many, many others.

Cheers!

~ Daisies

Fixing What Can Be Fixed - The First Step

Hello, Friends,

Today begins a new journey.  I'm hoping to be feeling much better soon.  Cured of my chemical sensitivity?  Probably not.  But feeling much, much better.

Forced by circumstance to see a physician for a note of exemption due to my chemical sensitivity, I chose an alternative physician -- a true M.D. -- of excellent repute.  I learned yesterday that I've been barking up the right tree, taking my Liquid Kelp iodine.  I need more!  My thyroid, the physician believes, is running on "low."  This has caused systemic discombobulation.

Now, I have the blessing of being supervised in my iodine dosage.  I'm to increase it a bit, very gradually to avoid detox reactions.  As for dairy and gluten -- I was told I must do without.  All dairy -- cow, goat, and sheep.  This was as I had suspected -- but one doesn't want to embark on a program of considerable self-denial without being absolutely sure it's necessary.  This physician was absolutely sure.  I also have my own vivid recollection to consult on this point.  When I did without dairy for a few years back in the late 1990's, I was slim without any effort and had the vibrant energy of a 12-year old returned to me.  And that was just the elimination of dairy -- no total gluten elimination, and no supplemental iodine.  Apparently, I've been iodine-deficient since the 1990's, at least.  That's a long time for the thyroid gland to starve. 

I ate my last morsels of gluten last night. 

The elimination of gluten and dairy, to which I'm apparently sensitive, will serve the function of allowing my immune system to revive in a more normal manner.  The elimination of both antagonizing food groups should have an anti-inflammatory effect.  I've become physically reactive left and right -- hives for touching wheat, hives for touching plastics, hives for walking into a scented room.  I, who characteristically had such low blood pressure that I nearly passed out and was more than once advised to ingest more salt, had a reading of high blood pressure yesterday.  This is very bad.  I mentioned a few posts back that I felt a racing heartbeat after exposure to scented fumes from a dryer vent.  I suppose that's now a truly dangerous thing, seeing that my baseline heart rate and blood pressure are running high at present.  Things are really off the track.

I'm on inflammatory, toxic overload.  The overload is so comprehensive, so vast, that to try to specify precisely which food -- or which chemical -- is causing a particular bout of hives is utter insanity.  The entire body load of poorly metabolized food toxins, to start with, must be dramatically reduced.  The hives, themselves, are no catastrophe.  They have been, however, a red flag of persistent systemic imbalance.

The silver lining -- and the very good news, to me -- is that my posts on this blog have been running in an accurate direction.  The iodine is truly needed and helpful to me, the heart (judging by my elevated pulse and blood pressure) is truly a concern -- especially in the face of chemical exposures which affect it adversely.  And detoxing from foods that are harming me is an urgent need.

So what began as a dreaded medical appointment, yesterday, turned into the greatest blessing.  The doctor and staff were perfectly cheerful and kind.  The office was overwhelmingly peaceful.  The advice was calm and clear.

I write this post for you, today, to provide an update to my earlier posts on these topics, and specifically for any others out there who might benefit from looking into these things for themselves, with their own medical practitioners.

And now that I've written this down, I must find the strength to adhere to it.  One day at a time.  It's the only way.

Cheers!

~ Daisies

A Bit Overtaken

Hello, Friends,

Our power came back on the evening of November 9th -- what a relief!  Our home phone, however, is still out of commission.  I barely notice it.

I'm surprised to find myself overtaken today by very sore glands, especially under the arms.  As the day goes on, I can barely move.  Reaching for things is hard.  Maybe it's a delayed aftermath of the storm stress, since I was often chilled.  Actually, the fire in the wood-burning boiler has gone down now.  Guess I'd better try to stoke it up.

Not able, in my present state, to put together technical details for a cogent post, I've been adding new links to the topic tabs above.

Zeolite (see last tab) is a fascinating substance which I have not yet tried, myself.

I'll work hard at getting better quickly, because I have much to say!

Cheers!

~ Daisies

Seized (a poem re: Hurricane Sandy)

To the basics 
we clung 
as rock bottom 
rose, 
trying its best 
to meet us -- 
wind lashing 
on top, 
fury unrelenting.  
Hands over head 
while roof took the blows 
and the blows 
and the blows, 
high-speed pitches 
of branch-shaped 
baseballs, 
gutters flailing in the wind 
like crazed ghosts.  
Seized with wind's fever, 
the skylight 
burst out, 
flying steady 
on Aladdin's invisible carpet, 
landing flat on grass.  
Gazing up at the gaping hole, 
I thought, 
"It might get a bit chilly."


Our Hurricane Sandy experience.  Written by me on November 6, 2012.

 ~ Carolyn

Posted here retroactively on June 15, 2014 as an accompaniment to my "Daisies" post of November 9, 2012.  I've entered the post date of 11-9-12 here so as to keep the two pieces consecutively placed.

"Daisies"

Hello, Friends,

The scary thing is that my fingers and toes feel nearly frostbitten even with the heat on (still running by generator after Hurricane Sandy) . . .   Repairs in progress before Hurricane Sandy have left us with less insulation, temporarily, than before.

The good thing is:  The air is totally fresh, crisp, and clean, smelling deliciously of black birch from the wood-burning boiler down below.

All of this has to do with my having fled our beloved, cozy little log cabin nine years ago next week, on a cold and blustery November morning -- gasping for air with lead-feeling limbs and jumbled coordination -- to avoid systemic collapse. There was a gaseous mixture in the house to which I'd apparently become highly sensitized -- and on November 13th, 2003, I'd reached my apex.

I would like, at some point, to highlight specific details of this experience for readers who would greatly benefit from knowing them.  I will save these details for a future post.  In the meantime, I will convey the basic logistics.

On the evening of November 13th, 2003, we landed here:  "here" being a highly organic, then-vacated home we'd owned but which my husband had been repairing at his leisure.  With this sudden, emergency relocation, any further thoughts of "leisure" or "spare time" flew out the window.  Our family was put on a new track.  We were now pioneers.  This house had been given ample time and opportunity to deteriorate while no one was living in it.

I never dreamed that, nine years later, we'd still be in "pioneer mode."

How easy is it for a toxically injured person to become homeless -- literally overnight (as I and my family would have been had we not had this "old faithful" living abode in the family)?  Easy.  Pathetically easy.  A mere snap of the fingers and -- voila! -- the old life is gone.  Just kiss it goodbye and don't waste any energy looking back.  There is no "back" to which one in this position can return.  All of the homes one might have chosen for oneself "in the old days," all of the friends' and relatives' homes which were once physically tolerable -- these are no longer options.  It truly is a metaphorical case of "Water, water everywhere -- and not a drop to drink." 

It's a cosmic revelation.  And no one on the outside will grieve with you.  I was told, basically, to "straighten up and fly right" and get my allergy shots already. There are no "allergy shots" for MCS.  An allergy is an excessive reaction of the body to a natural substance which the body would otherwise be expected to tolerate.  MCS, by contrast, is a reaction of the body to truly toxic substances of unnatural origin -- the body having been brought to an "overload" point where it can no longer "rebuff" or "shrug off" the insulting chemical toxins.  MCS, in short, is the body's (eventually visible and/or discernible) reaction to the presence of real poisons.

Moreover, there are no social supports for people who are poisoned in ways other than those that are commonly known, such as the carbon-monoxide way.  What drove me out of our log cabin did not seem to have been carbon-monoxide poisoning.  I was tested for that.  This made sense enough to me, because I was the only one in the family reduced to an emergency state.  I was also the one who cooked the most and the longest.  I had been cooking for hours on that fateful morning when I had to leave my home.  Please read on.

On the contrary, it seemed that I'd suffered from the personally disastrous interaction of (1) the combustion byproducts of natural gas and (2) other chemical contaminants lodged in the house's old carpet.  "Yours truly" had, most likely, become extremely sensitized to whatever chemical cocktail results from natural gas's benzene and toluene (during combustion) combining with old carpet-cleaner chemicals, potential pesticides used by previous owners, leftover products of cigarette smoke (known to me), and the residue of old, fragranced personal products -- plus the carpet chemicals and carpet backing, itself.  Never mind that we'd steamed the carpet immediately upon moving in.  Steaming won't remove cloying chemicals.  Furthermore, our boiler, dryer, and stove were all fueled by natural gas.

So, finally, the day came when I was physically unable to spend even one more minute under these conditions.

This history, friends, is part and parcel of your "Daisies."  Homelessness, I know full well, is always just a breath away.  

On the topic of "Daisies," I'd like to mention that my visual sense has been continually bothered by the plethora of words naming my icon.  So, please . . . just call me "Daisies."  I'm "Daisies," and I clean many things with distilled white vinegar.  The image of white, sunny, open-faced daisies in a field is the closest my mind's eye can come, visually, to what this chemically-sensitive nature of mine craves.  And vinegar is such a lovely, hardy, versatile, and sweet-smelling liquid (to me)!  I find distilled white vinegar to be a very pleasant and enjoyable substance, especially when I pour it on a cloth and wave it in the air to banish bad natural and/or chemical smells.  It works quickly that way.  I have a friend to thank for that stroke of genius.  It sounded comical until I actually tried it.  Now, I keep a cloth hanging in a strategic place so that, if needed, I can pour distilled white vinegar on it and wave it around.  My children find this hysterical.

Cheers!  :)

~ Daisies (!)

Attention: Environmentalists, Hydrologists, and All Who Love Things "Green"

Hello, Friends,

The clock is ticking for both the River Shannon and my Internet connection.

Operating under the lash of the impending "monster" storm system, Sandy, I am eager to put in an effective word on behalf of those who, for several years, have made efforts to preserve, undisturbed, Ireland's rich natural heritage in the River Shannon.

Lacking time, I fear, with these heavy winds increasingly coming upon us, I am posting a link for your careful scrutiny.  This link (with video) exposes and explains the critical details far, far better than I ever could.  Please put the word out to anyone you know who can alert others to help preserve this precious river:

"Beware Bord na Mona and Dublin City Council bearing gifts" - River Shannon Protection Alliance, 2007

Thank you, friends, for tuning in.  I must sign off and post this, as my lights and screen are repeatedly flickering.

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

Revised 6/2/14
 

A Synthetic Protein?

On the periphery of toxic injury/MCS --

Dr. William Davis, cardiologist and author, speaks out about genetically engineered modern wheat: 
 
CBS News:  "Modern wheat a  'perfect, chronic poison,' doctor says"  [News article and video included - September 3, 2012]

Synthetically Scented Dryer-Vent Fumes and Cardiac Peril

Hello, Friends,

When I visited France in 2007, I had a chance to sample French laundry products.  The ones that were available to our family turned out to be lovely.  They were not only lovely-smelling, but they also had no bad effects on any of us.  I had written a post a while back which detailed my remarkable ability, in France, to stand in the doorway of a laundromat:  Standing in the Doorway of the Laundromat.  Here in America, I can't even open the car windows driving through an area where scented laundry products permeate the air.  The difference between American laundry products now and those pleasant French laundry products of 2007 is obviously a huge one.

Yesterday, I tried to go to church.  Tried.  The church I attempted to attend* is in a residential neighborhood surrounded by homes with -- you guessed it -- dryer vents.  As I exited my car, which was parked behind the church, I realized I was walking through an invisible, newly-puffed cloud of synthetically scented laundry fumes.  The fumes were strong, sickeningly sweet, and inescapable.  They seemed to have been coming from the house next door.  This, for me, was an unusually "close" and consequently strong exposure. 

Arriving inside the church, I began to feel strangely weak and "green."  A window was open, for fresh air, but of course the dryer-vent fumes were also outside.  I felt almost faint, and very, very strange.  What was wrong, exactly?  I couldn't figure.  I felt shaky all over.  After about seven minutes or so, I realized it was my pulse.  It wasn't a full-blown attack of my usual tachycardia.  It was, however, a faster-than-normal heartbeat which would not calm down for anything.  My internal warning system said, "Get up and go.  Go home."

On the way home, I became certain that this racing pulse was related to the dryer-fumes exposure.  While driving, I began to get those old, familiar chest pains that I get when walking near laundromats and/or through neighborhoods where they've used pesticides and/or scented laundry products.  All the way home, I got those spasms of chest pain.  My entire body felt like it wanted to . . . squeeze.  In short, I felt as though I was on the verge of either a heart attack or a seizure.

The thought came to me:  What if I'd had a heart attack right then and there, in the church or in the church parking lot?  People would say, "Oh, yes, she was tired, she was carrying some extra weight, she had that strange problem with fragrances, you know.  She was not physically well.  So, that heart attack -- it was probably coming."

And if I'd lived through the heart attack, I'd say, "Have you considered the impact of synthetically scented dryer-vent fumes on sudden-death syndromes?"  One chemical researcher in the U.S. began her extremely helpful work when she saw a little boy go into seizures upon outdoor exposures to synthetically scented dryer-vent fumes.

Now, just to interject here an update on my iodine progress, I'm taking it every other day and did not take it yesterday.  I've had a pre-migraine headache all day today from my dryer-fumes exposure yesterday, complete with feeling wretched in every way (balance slightly off, movement more labored, etc.).  Still, having said that, I can also report that these post-exposure symptoms are a few notches lower in intensity than they could have been.  HOWEVER, some toxins, I believe, are just too powerful for my central nervous system and heart to surmount, even with special fortification (if the iodine can be considered a fortification).

Therefore -- and this is my own opinion here -- I truly believe there is a tremendous cardiac danger for at least some of us who are exposed to what others consider a "normal" amount of toxic laundry fumes (through dryer vents and via other heavy, close exposures) -- with or without supplemental iodine or whatever else boosts a given person's well-being and chemical tolerance.  There is a point reached where, no matter what, you absolutely have to get away from the chemical trigger.  The neurotoxins (nerve poisons) and other toxic substances present in synthetically scented laundry products can animate the nerves and demolish the body's defenses in some very nightmarish ways.

It has recently occurred to me that at least some of you readers who reside in countries other than America may not have ever smelled the types of synthetic laundry fragrances to which I'm repeatedly referring.  Had I been a reader from a country where they have "reasonably" scented -- and safer-scented -- laundry products, I would not understand what all the fuss was about!  So I thank, especially, those readers from other countries who have bothered to read my rants against synthetically scented laundry products here in North America.  If you have not yet smelled or been sickened by these products, then you must have an incredibly open mind.

I'd love to have some reader feedback on this!

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

*This dear little Latin Rite church of which I speak is small -- and rather cozy for those who can tolerate synthetic scents at very close range.  Unfortunately, there's not much ventilation, the church is usually packed with people, and the type of incense used there is one that I can't tolerate physically.  (I realize there are those who can't tolerate any church incense whatsoever.)  I end up trying -- and failing -- to attend Mass at this local little church in the evening when I've been too chemically sensitive even to attempt to attend Mass that morning.

I've noted different formulations of incense in different churches.  While I can't tolerate any kind of commercially sold home/store incense, I've done well with incense in the Eastern church.  Many times, this incense is purchased from the Holy Land and is of a more natural grade.  The Eastern church/parish I usually attend when I'm reasonably well is big enough and sufficiently ventilated for me to survive; and the incense makes me cough at times, but the scent is not aversive to me and coughing is the worst that ever happens.  Also, I sing up in a choir loft, which helps me avoid detergent scents in the pews.  Then again, the scents in the pews aren't much during our Mass because the congregation is small.   What a footnote.  It was supposed to be short.  :)       ~ Carolyn, July 7, 2014

Update on "Iodized"

Hello, Friends,

During my first few days of taking iodine drops, my chemical sensitivity lessened vastly.  Let me mention here, before I forget, that there is an accompaniment to my iodine supplementation; namely, the grey-colored Celtic sea salt.  I've been using Celtic sea salt every single day since I began the iodine supplementation -- even on days when I've refrained from the iodine supplementation.  The Celtic sea salt contains trace minerals which are simply not available to the body from processed, iodized salt.  These trace minerals are necessary to balance out the body's levels of electrolytes, blood sugar, hormones, and nutrients.

While I was still fortified with the liquid iodine, I spent over an hour in a dentist's office in which scented paraffin candles are burned when I'm not there.  Later that day, I entered a public building where there were pervasive and strong VOC's in the air from a new industrial cleaning solution.  From there I went to two supermarkets, both of which had aerosol "cinnamon/nutmeg" fall scents in the air from the front entrance inward.  The scent in one of the supermarkets was so strong, I went in one door and out the other immediately.  

I waited for that headache to come.  In the meantime, my face grew red hot and rashy for an evening.  It was so red hot and rashy that I forgot about the fact that there was no headache.  Three days later, I realized that I had not had to take a single ibuprofen tablet after that considerable chemical onslaught.  This was so amazing as to be nearly unbelievable to me.

I then stopped taking the iodine, because I'm hesitant about plowing forward aggressively.  By the next afternoon -- four days after the big, multi-chemical onslaught, I did get a migraine from laundry fragrances on people's clothes that same morning and afternoon.  But I hadn't taken the iodine.  Worth mentioning, however, is that this migraine behaved rather nicely:  It permitted me to nip it in the bud with a single ibuprofen tablet.  (That's what I consider a "good" migraine.)  So, all things considered, I seemed to have been still cruising along on the benefits of my iodine "upswing."

Then, this past Sunday, still doing without the iodine because my energy level was quite reasonable (I also wanted to learn how far a bit of iodine could take me), I met up with a monster fragrance on an acquaintance.  This fragrance was so severe, it filled half the room.  I suspected, also, that there were other hidden chemical antagonists in that same room.  It felt, to me, as though it was an extremely "sick" room.  A "feverish" room.  I rarely encounter this type of interior "climate."

I'd already had a migraine brewing by the time I met up with the monster fragrance in the "feverish" room.  With the monster fragrance and the "feverish" room added to the picture, however, the migraine increased in intensity minute by minute.  I began to sweat and feel sick all over, and I thought I would just pass out or fall over from the pain in my head.

I didn't.  But that headache, all told, was over 24 hours long and required four separate doses of ibuprofen.  I've been "draggy" and mentally sluggish ever since.  Still, I wanted to be sure I didn't need the ibuprofen when I resumed the iodine.  (Just a precaution against instigating hives.)

Now, however, my energy level is slipping, I feel poorly without the iodine, and I'm going to begin taking it again.

Here's hoping my anecdotal reports on this topic will help clarify what supplemental iodine can do for a chemically sensitive person.

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

Iodized

Hello, Friends,

It's been a very strange journey.  This post is purely anecdotal thus far, as I have neither thought through nor researched the possible science behind my present "upswing" --

Having become inundated with fluid, I looked up a topic I dread:  thyroid disorders.  To my dismay, I saw that I had most, if not all, of the symptoms of a thyroid imbalance.  I was advised about 10 years ago by a very effective alternative physician to take supplemental iodine for a subclinical thyroid disorder (deficiency state).  I resisted experimenting with the iodine, at the time, because I'd recently had a bad bout of benign cardiac arrhythmia which had sent me to the emergency room for two scary injections of adenosine to reset the heart rhythm.  I feared that the addition of iodine to my system might set off new arrhythmias if I got the dosage wrong.

But now, with all of this fluid to truck around in my body plus the debilitating weakness, mysterious breathlessness, and fatigue which have accompanied it, I've been getting arrhythmias, anyway!  The arrhythmias can occur as a compensation mechanism to offset poor oxygenation.  Obviously, for some reason, my oxygenation was poor.  So, having tried all sorts of iron supplementation and having failed to improve . . . 

I asked someone I knew who has benefited from iodine what kind of iodine she's been taking.  The product is "Natural Factors" Liquid Kelp drops.  I gathered up my courage and took my first drop (800 mcg of iodine).  Almost one whole drop, that is.  (I go slowly with supplementation, as I do, in fact, with many things . . .)

Now how do you take "almost" one drop?  Where there's a will, there's a way:  the spoon method.  I put one drop on a spoon and took almost the whole thing.  And there you have it!  I'm now taking one drop per day.  I'll see what happens with one drop per day for a while.  If I find that I need more improvement, I'll inch my way toward taking two drops per day.  I have read that women in Japan ingest more than 13 mg of iodine per day in seaweed, to the great benefit of their health:

Iodine: Its Role In Health and Disease - Some New Exciting Concepts (by Michael B. Schachter, M.D., 2005)

I got one bout of hives, yesterday, after taking the iodine for two days.  But I get so many hives now from so many things, I'm relieved that I don't have to attribute the hives to the iodine (a possible side effect) -- especially since they'd occurred over 12 hours after my last dose.

I read, in fact, that a thyroid disorder predisposes the body to allergies.  Which has, indeed, happened with me over the past year or two.  I'm not speaking here of my more "typical" chemically sensitive reactions, but of those more "allergic-like" bouts of hives from touching plastic and whatnot (bizarre -- yes!).

The good news is this:  I've had much more energy over the past couple of days.  The breathlessness has vanished.  As is usually the case when a supplement begins to work for the better, my chores have been "getting done of their own accord."  I don't have to think about getting up from the chair.  Suddenly, I'm just up and moving.  I'm up and down the stairs and I'm not mysteriously dying from the effort.  I go up -- I go down.  It's simple.  But it wasn't so simple for many, many months!  I'd been taking iron and iron and more iron -- to no avail.

Now, I'm moving again!  But looking around at all I couldn't do before . . . now this takes courage.  There is so much to do!  

Here is the big anecdotal "perk":  My chemical sensitivity has been noticeably better over the past several days.  I don't know why.  But this is truly the case.

Does this have something to do with the supplemental iodine, with "feeding" the thyroid what it seems to want, with balancing out the hormonal system?  And will I last with the iodine without side effects?  

I hope so.  I really hope so.  Because this is looking -- and feeling -- very good.

Please, if anyone has anything to contribute on the topic of toxic injury/chemical sensitivity, thyroid disorders, and iodine supplementation, I -- and perhaps others -- would very much appreciate your knowledge and ideas.  

Cheers!

~ Carolyn   

Embracing the Endangered River Shannon (video included)

Hello, Friends,

It's one thing to talk about "saving a river."  It's quite another thing to see it, to embrace its unique beauties, its pathways, the special places to which it leads.  For those who are new to this topic, please see the related links on the sidebar and the information tab above entitled, "Water (re:  General Info and River Shannon)."

My last discussion about the endangered River Shannon revolved around the topic of beauty.  I will follow up that piece with this nicely arranged video that I found on YouTube (with appreciation to those who recorded and uploaded it).  Together, we can become acquainted with a major river, another country's lifeblood, which is in danger of being largely dried up by man-made intervention.

If we are far away, why should we care?  Well, first of all, the River Shannon is an integral part of Ireland's cultural history and heritage, an ongoing source of fishing, boating, all-around tourist attraction, and native livelihood -- not to mention a living, fertile source of inspiration to poets, artists, and musicians everywhere.  When it comes my time to visit this lovely country of green, I, for one, want the River Shannon to be there in all her glory.

So, let's take a look!

I hope you enjoy the video as much as I already have.  :)

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

9/11: A Remembrance; and a Thanksgiving for First Responders

Dear Friends,

I post the following link in memory of all those who perished on 9/11/2001 -- and in gratitude to those who risked their lives to save others in the burning, heaving, crumbling Towers that day . . . some of whom can be seen on this video.

I urge you, please, to take 15 minutes to watch this, if you haven't already:

"Multiple Chemical Sensitivity: A Short Introduction" (features toxically injured 9/11 first responders, among others)

May God rest the souls of those who died in the 9/11 attacks.  May God protect and help those who mourn them -- and those first responders and all others now suffering toxic injury as a result of the toxic fumes.

Sincerely,

Carolyn

*P.S.  For those who are interested, see also my first post regarding this video:  A Favorite Film.

When It's Not Due to Chemical Sensitivity: Rest Time

Hello, Friends,

My posts have been spaced far apart in time lately.  I've just been exhausted.  In addition, some physical troubles have surfaced which don't seem directly related to chemical sensitivity.  They're simply made worse by it.

For this reason, I'm taking a two-week "vacation" from any expectation of my being able to post on this blog.  Maybe I'll surprise myself and post something, anyway.  But, then again, perhaps I'll just give my mind a rest from wrestling with the topic of toxic injury for two weeks.

I'm sure that both I and my posts on this blog will be all the better for this "rest."

In the meantime, please do check into the information tabs on the top and the featured links on the sidebar.

And know that I have not "given up"!

Cheers!

~ Carolyn 

After the Storm

Sometimes, one just has to wait for some fresh winds to blow through.  I waited.  The winds came tonight, with a forbidding sky and thunderous weather, graced afterwards by a rainbow.  I'm now ready to write.

I'm thinking about alcohol toxicity.  Alcohol toxicity is a dense and variable subject, as it can involve several forms of toxicity, some of which can occur sooner than others. 

Am I against the judicious imbibing of alcohol, on principle?  No.  In this post I simply hope to raise some questions that one can ask oneself along the way.  I claim no definitive answers on this extremely complex topic.  I do think, however, that it's a topic worthy of much serious consideration for those who are chemically sensitive and those who are at risk of becoming so.

There are those of us who already know that we're chemically sensitive.  We need to be fully aware of what can lurk in a typical social drink.  For those who have had noteworthy chemical exposures of one sort or another but who, as of yet, observe no distinct onset of chemical sensitivity in themselves:  It's still possible that, due to your chemical exposure(s), your reactions to alcoholic beverages may undergo some changes.  As the saying goes, "Forewarned is forearmed."       

Beer has been touted for its Vitamin B content.  Red wine has been touted for its antioxidant properties.

On the negative side, beer and wine can contain additives/allergens and outright toxins:

"Hidden Additives in Beer and Wine" by Drea Knufken - Living Without Magazine June/July 2008

These toxins are a distinct liability for those who are chemically sensitive and allergically reactive (this can accompany chemical sensitivity).

Then, there is another type of alcohol toxicity whereby a person simply imbibes far too much for his own body's tolerance on a given day and actually poisons himself by sheer quantity:

"Alcohol Poisoning Symptoms" (Alcoholism Information)

This is a medical emergency.  It's always possible that such a person might also have had a budding chemical sensitivity or previously unknown allergies.  These things would only add to the nightmarish toxicity of such an occasion.

I wonder, often, if chemical sensitivity, in its "masked" phase, actually draws some (self-defined) alcoholics to drink excessively in the same way that food sensitivities often cause a craving for the sensitivity-inducing food.  If one's chemical sensitivity is also accompanied by food sensitivities and allergies, the craving for alcoholic beverages might be all the more strong.

There are those who have "gone without" alcohol for decades and suddenly take up drinking again, with often disastrous results.  Perhaps this insidious "progression," this apparent worsening of the alcoholism even during long years of abstinence, is at least partly due to the pervasiveness of chemical exposures in our midst -- which, of course, accumulate steadily in our bodies the longer we live.  The increase in the body's absorption of daily "common" chemicals could easily account for the worsened effects of alcohol -- even after years of abstinence -- upon the body and mind.  These chemicals in our midst are stored in our tissues and organs.  This puts increasing burdens upon the liver and kidneys as they attempt to detoxify our bodies.  Add a little alcohol and the results can be increasingly devastating.

My own chemical sensitivity once caused a horrendous internal reaction to a simple glass of white wine within minutes of my finishing it -- as though an angry hand had taken hold of my thoughts and emotions and made them extra, extra strong.  No one could see the reaction on the outside, thankfully.  But on the inside, a nightmare was brewing from which no one could deliver me.  And I was stuck with it raging inside my head.  I was aware enough to know that I had to try to step above it, to manage it, somehow.  Obviously, something totally unforeseen and "alien" to me had occurred.  This I was not expecting.  It hit me like a freight train.  Such a thing had never happened to me before, in the "old" days before I was chemically sensitive. 

As the alcohol left my body over the next few hours, the reaction completely dissipated and I sobbed out the remainder of it through my tears.  From that point on, I only "sipped" tastes of such beverages.  I never want to go through such a frightful experience again.  Was this a reaction to sulfites?  Was there an unknown additive in the wine?  Had the grapes undergone pesticide treatment?  Or was it my body's nearly inept processing of the alcohol, itself?

I will never know.  My liver and kidneys, however, apparently know much more than I do.  I believe it could be a deadly mistake to let their knowledge get too far ahead of mine.  I must at least consider what factors might possibly have gone into such an unfavorable experience with alcohol.  In doing so, I hope to spare another person such an experience -- or worse.

"Forewarned is forearmed."

Wishing you healthy food and drink and safe socializing --

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

Thinking in Pieces

Hello, Friends,

Over the past several days, I've been reduced to processing my written words in short bursts of thoughts -- what I call "thinking in pieces."  Synthesizing details in a global fashion has been a great challenge.  I've found myself typing and retyping the simplest things due to my inability to process more than one detail at a time. This difficulty has encompassed even nonverbal, visual details.

All of this is due to my having had a heavier variety of chemical exposures on Sunday than usual.  Today is the first day that some of the physical fog is lifting. Ironically, it's also the first day that the impending migraine is finally coming through.  It's been a three-day event instead of a two-day event, this time around. Now the body begins to fight.  Its reaction time was extra slow and dreary due to its having been literally deluged with airborne toxins.  The effects were so "heavy" that, first, all reactivity was frankly suppressed while my body endured a growing sensation of "stupor."  As my body "awoke" to its exposures, I felt progressively worse and more and more useless.

Laundry toxins figured first on the list, then cigarette smoke.  Creepy effects, this time, as though I'd received a novocaine shot at the dentist which was slowly wearing off in parts of my face.  This has improved, but it's not gone yet.  Such heavy nerve involvement.  I so much hate this.

The B and C vitamins have helped, plus magnesium (with some calcium).  The "creepy" physical reactivity gets a bit muted each time I take another dose.  With the magnesium, I opt for the higher ratio of something like 2:1 or 4:1 magnesium to calcium.  The only calcium I "take" is included in my formulation of Buffered C powder.  I don't want to calcify my soft tissues.  Already had that problem and that required a biopsy.  Don't want to go back there again.  My ratio of magnesium to calcium may look radical to some -- so be it.  I personally found the biopsy -- and the logic behind mainstream medicine's requesting future checks and biopsies -- to be quite radical.  Insane, even.  I'm convinced that I'm severely deficient in magnesium and maybe even have a bona fide magnesium-absorption problem. So I'll mention here what a friend kindly lent to me -- and now I've purchased my own:

Ancient Minerals Magnesium Oil (topical)

Perhaps unrelated but worth mentioning:  When my shoulder froze up with severe spasms of tendonitis and my arm was completely stuck, this oil began to free it up by degrees.  It begins to loosen up the joints almost right away.  Makes me feel better all-around, too.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I have another post "on tap" which deals with a separate (and new) topic.  Please bear with me while I complete that one, and kindly accept this post as a sign that this blogger is "still present" with you!     

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

"Due" for Repairs

The giant hive on my leg was the clue.  That plus the crushing exhaustion which has kept me from completing the post I recently began to write -- since paragraphs of a more scientific bent must be linear, logical, and support themselves soundly.  This begs precision and endurance of a tired mind.

In short, I suspect I'm not feeling well.  I'm either very toxic with airborne and/or food chemicals; a small creature bit me; or, as I'm beginning to think, all of the above.  (I'm quite sure that the bologna, wheat bread, beef burritos, ice cream, and processed American cheese were not innocent bystanders in this debacle . . . nor were the scented dryer-vent emissions and cigarette smoke I walked through last night).  I fervently hope that, if a creature was also involved, it wasn't a tick or a poisonous spider.  I will hopefully be checking that angle by tomorrow.

I could imbibe several herbal teas and/or add some novel nutritional supplements, but during such times of "what is going on?," I prefer to stick with the most definitely non-inflammatory solutions possible.  Right now, that comes down to goat yogurt (hope I'm right about that), "buffered" Vitamin C which contains calcium and magnesium, and -- can't go too far wrong with this one -- glass after glass of pitcher-filtered water.

The "what is going on?" systemic overhaul, complete with new and weird physical symptoms to eradicate, has typically occurred once every few years since I became chemically sensitive.  Apparently, I must have been "due" for another round.  It's always an unsettling phenomenon flavored with the unexpected, and the key word for getting through it is "calm."

I will return to my half-completed post as soon as possible!  Please visit the information tabs, above, for newly added information.

In the meantime, cheers!

~ Carolyn

"A Person's a Person, No Matter How Small!" (Horton Hears a Who! - by Dr. Seuss)

Greetings, Friends!

Kindly excuse the dull black print.  This morning, it feels so much better on the eyes than a color.  It also brings some kind of systemic relief to me to see my post printed this way.  (Fascinating concept:  the effects of color on the human system and psyche -- and on tired eyes!  I'm going to try to remember that topic.)

So, if I switch colors now and then, you'll know why.  :)  

Today, I'm pondering books . . . borrowed.

I fare a whole lot better amongst new books in bookstores, because nobody has taken the books home yet.  Unless they contain glossy pages, bookstore books usually have that uniform "paper" scent.*

Libraries are another animal entirely.  I quickly learn which books the smokers like -- that's the easiest call.  Next down the line are perfumed books.  My physiology -- capable guide! -- dictates which of these I can take home with me and which I must return to the shelf immediately.  Due to the nose-numbing effect of some synthetic scent components, however, I'm occasionally surprised, at home, to find I've chosen a book with a much stronger scent than I'd originally detected.  This, then, becomes a book I cannot read.

Finally, we have the "laundry/chemical cleaner/air freshener" scented books, which smell as though they'd been filed between dryer sheets.  These are the most interesting breed of all.  They positively "radiate."

If I, myself, have not personally plucked the books off the shelves and carried them to the checkout desk, I miss the opportunity to weed out, in advance, the truly "nonnegotiable" books.  When little hands choose and carry the books to the library clerk and out the front door, I discover the "nonnegotiable" ones "on the way." 

The children's books seem to get the worst of it.  As we drove home from the library the other day, my daughter was proudly reading one of her chosen books in the back seat.  Suddenly, I became aware that a pungent smell with a caustic texture was relentlessly burning into my nose.  I asked my children if they'd used the strongly scented shampoo, or if they'd put on some clothing from a previous, highly scented outing.

My son said, "It's the book."  It definitely was.  I sighed.

"I'm sorry -- could you please put it way in the back?"  I had to request.  The scent had now surrounded us all.  It began to burn my daughter's eyes.

These are moments of enlightenment.  Lest readers think that it is just I, and others like me, who fare poorly amidst chemical scents . . .

Children also feel the burn.   In how many ways might their little bodies and minds be paying for this "everywhere" exposure to innumerable toxic fragrances?

This is a daunting question.  I happen to have two very pertinent links on hand for just such an occasion:

Missouri Kids Health Coalition:  Air fresheners and fragranced cleaning products - Letter written by Dr. Anne C. Steinemann, Ph.D.

Cleanerindoorair.org: "Toxic Chemicals in Fragranced Laundry Products and Health Effects" by Dr. Anne C. Steinemann - Professor, Civil and Environmental Engineering, University of Washington

And one more, just from the heart:

"Bless the Beasts and the Children" - Carpenters

(Totally natural voice of gold, so kind, so healing -- beautiful Karen, rest in peace.)

May these links bear many good fruits to you and your loved ones.

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

*P.S.  I wish to extend my respectful recognition here to those whose chemical sensitivity causes new books -- and various inks -- to affect them adversely.   If you have any words to share regarding this experience, your thoughts would be most welcome!

Who Needs Beauty?

I recently wrote the following thoughts in a letter regarding the proposed large-scale abstraction of water from the River Shannon:

". . . To gut a picturesque river is to take something from the heart of the people, to demoralize them -- even if unintentionally.  That, in turn, can have a profound effect on family life and economics."

Is beauty a small thing?

I have found, through the rigors and deprivations imposed by chemical sensitivity, that the loss of beauty in one's surroundings can, itself, be debilitating.  Others have lost beauty in their surroundings as a result of poverty, natural disasters, war, and other illnesses and injuries.  Whichever way it occurs, the loss of beauty brings on visual gloom.  Life goes spare and bare.  You can tell yourself a million times a day that mere visuals shouldn't get under your skin this way, that this or that task must get done no matter what -- but how do you honestly feel while doing it?  Do you feel cast down, thoroughly engulfed by a sense of visual "greyness" or hopelessness, and drained?

Or consider, for example, an old section of your hometown that you used to love as a child, perhaps once filled with abundant grass, flowing river, and thriving trees.  Imagine that a slime-filled reservoir or dried-up riverbed now disfigures that lost haven of sweetness . . . . .

How would it feel to look at that, remembering the lushness of creation that once existed so peacefully there under the skies?

Speaking for myself, such a sight would make (and has made) me queasy in the depths.  Something would forever after feel very wrong, out of joint, and exceedingly dismal -- were that my hometown.  (And, in fact, my hometown has changed in some sad ways.)  If I were forced by circumstance to remain living there, something in my life would be irrevocably altered.  I would find myself battling a reflexive sinking of the spirit at every turn, plus a grim sensation of things slipping away in a more dramatic, global, and rapid fashion than they would have at the steadier pace of nature alone.

When we invade the peaceful workings of nature in extensive, sudden, and perhaps unnecessary ways, we disrupt time -- our own time.  We put ourselves on a new clock.  We then find ourselves racing against this man-driven clock, accelerating our own demise.  Man's clock is erratic and unpredictable, subject to whims and appetites, supply and demand, greed and need, and money.

The more spiritually aggressive drives of man often dispense with beauty and the purity of nature as though they were of no consequence beside the things that "really" matter.  They dispense with the purity of nature because they already do not mind infiltrating their fellow man with innumerable toxins and pollutants.  Humans have become acceptable reservoirs for mass-produced and mass-distributed toxins.

Beauty?  Who has time for beauty?  Only artists and dreamers?

Perhaps.  But if they didn't bother to preserve beauty, each in his own way, humanity would go mad.

It's very difficult to earn a living when one must white-knuckle one's way through a persistent sense of futility and decay.  It's very difficult to inspire one's family in spiritually uplifting and creative ways when one's physical surroundings appear increasingly devastated.

The destruction of beauty takes a more severe toll on us than we might imagine.

Far from being a frivolous concern, beauty is one of our basic human needs.  It helps kindle that fire deep down in our souls that will fuel us during long nights and tough times.  It hones our sensibilities in periods of desperation and need, reminding us of the human charity which must always come first.  It puts our minds on a higher plane of awareness and sensitivity; so that, when a practical solution is called for, our concerns will already be at that higher level and we will be much more likely to handle our resources with care.

Who needs beauty?

We all do.

Wishing you havens of loveliness --

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

A Walking "Echo"

Greetings to you on this sultry (U.S.) Saturday morning!

You know, I've long been fascinated by the five senses.

I refer now and then to such things as having "a nose like a bloodhound," or a "bionic nose."  By this, I mean that a chemically sensitive person often develops an extremely heightened sense of smell.  Conversely, toxic injury can also cause the sense of smell to decrease.  In my own case, the sense of smell has increased exponentially.  I was not born this way.  The physical, sensory difference between "now" and "then" is staggering, approaching the mind-bending quality of science fiction.

Having loved perfumes/colognes as a child and young lady, I now smell more of the base chemicals and less of the fragrances.  Or, the base chemicals intertwine with the intended scent and cheapen it for me.  I perceive, or even remember precisely in some cases, exactly where the scent is "going" -- but for me, it no longer "gets there."

Finally, when I'm around some fragrances and most hair treatments (hair sprays/gels/dyes), I smell only the chemical base.  It's most peculiar to find myself at a gathering where another woman mentions, for instance, that she's wearing her "favorite fragrance"  -- and the fragrance happens to make me gasp with horror because, to me, it smells like ammonia or a pesticide.  In such cases, physical instinct (the way my face starts to feel instantly) screams at me to move far, far away.  But sometimes I can't get "far, far away."  This leaves me conversing and honing my acting abilities at the same time.

If only I could make a movie to convey the feelings of incredulousness and absurdity that come over me on such occasions!  To do this, I'd have to film an actress spraying disinfectant on her hair, dabbing on some wasp repellent for "fragrance," then going forth to greet her guests with a smile . . . . .  I kid you not.  Despite my knowledge that base chemicals, for me, can blot out the intended signature scent, I have still found myself puzzling, on more than one occasion, as to why this or that lovely lady would have chosen to wear a fragrance that smelled exactly like a tub-and-tile cleaner.

Moving on to synthetic laundry fragrances -- these are the most vitriolic to me.  I can tolerate many perfumes/colognes without excessive amounts of residual damage afterwards; but synthetic laundry fragrances just make my head spin.  They are incredibly powerful and far-reaching.  I catch them in the air even while driving in my car.  They can cover large expanses of road when emanating from dryer vents.  Some of them penetrate even the closed air vents of the car, in which case I try to inhale as few times as possible, hoping never to get stuck in such a place.  ("Such a place," mind you, being an ordinary neighborhood of homes with dryer vents.  The very simplicity and unavoidable frequency of such venues -- so innocuous in all other ways -- only increases the peril.)  Synthetic laundry scents have a caustic, burning, "peppery" quality.  I can describe them this way because along with the heightened sense of smell comes a sense of the "texture" of the molecules.  Many times I can taste the smell, as well.   

Removing myself from the polluted venue is the first step; however, there is yet another effect of an amplified sense of smell:  The chemical scent remains in the nose, at times, for hours or days after exposure.  

In short, the chemically sensitive person can become a walking "echo" of the synthetic scents to which he has recently been exposed.

To give yet another example of this physiological "echo," the neurotoxins (nerve toxins) in synthetic laundry fragrances, non-organic dry-cleaning solutions, and chlorine can have jarring reverberations on the central nervous system.  They can turn the usual operations of the nervous system "up" to a higher (and discomfiting) degree as though generating continual low-level seizures throughout the body.  I, myself, begin to experience a strong pulse over my nose and a vibration, or "buzzing," of this same pulse throughout my body -- as though someone had plugged me into an electrical socket.  I then feel physically shaky inside, with a bodily tremor not visible to others.  I, however, perceive a slight shaking of my hands when I go to grasp or arrange objects.  Playing the piano, setting the table, coordinating steps of activities either mentally or physically -- these things become neurologically and cognitively challenging.  My vision, also, begins to shake up and down rapidly, with some blurring; and my central nervous system feels "all revved up." 

It should frighten me, but it doesn't.  I'm too used to it.  At the same time, I begin to feel slightly "drunk" and sleepy (a heightened pulse beneath stupefying fatigue), so any thoughts of apprehension don't have the energy to persist, anyway.  

I appreciate, however, how such complications could worsen in the future.  As the "canary in the coal mine," I can report to you that the toxins in these products are severe, indeed -- and perhaps just as severe, later on, to those who cannot feel their "echo" as I do and who therefore immerse themselves in them as a way of life -- eventually developing cancer or Parkinson's or some other progressive, devastating disorder.  It is my firm belief that the role of pervasive common chemicals is not appreciated in the etiology of these life-threatening developments.

I've touched upon smell, sight, taste, and the "texture" of synthetic-scent molecules -- but what of the sense of hearing?  This, too, has become more acute for me in my toxically injured state.  Is this, then, also connected to the phenomenon of chemical sensitivity?  I honestly do not know.  I know only that I often have to cover at least one ear at social gatherings which include amplified music, if I get too close to the source of the sound.

If you look at all of this through a different lens, it begins to approach some of the heightened sensory experiences of the autistic person -- or, more scientifically stated, of what is presently called "autism" in many persons who happen also to experience such things (in addition to cognitive, speech, and other physiological differences).

I strongly suspect that there is much uncultivated ground between the topics of toxic injury and at least some of the physiological phenomena which occur under the umbrella of "autism" . . . with possibly some related causal factors behind each.

I've explained these peculiar sensory developments, above, in order to shorten the process of identification for those who might be becoming chemically sensitive.  So many aspects of functioning can be affected by chemical sensitivity; if you chase down each symptom, you still might not find any answer beyond the obvious categorizing of each symptom into a medically recognized disorder or two.  These medical disorders might, in fact, be real -- but are the triggers, or causes, of the disorders properly appreciated?  If they are not recognized and appreciated, then the understanding of the disorders is compromised:  Their occurrence and progression will appear to be more random than they really are.  If you never recognize that you're reacting to chemicals (in those cases when you actually are), then how can you defend your body against the effects of their repeated assaults?

If one's sense of smell is beginning to increase in the strange and noticeable ways described above, this could be a red flag alerting one to the possibility of chemical exposures as a cause.  Other things, of course, can contribute to an altered sense of smell.  The implications of such other causes can be serious.  Tracking one's own chemical exposures and (possible) follow-up symptoms, however, is a simple and completely cost-free way to begin digging for causes.  This "tool" is available to everyone immediately.  The window of heightened symptoms generally occurs, in my own case, anywhere between a few minutes to two days after exposure to a triggering chemical.

Tracking chemical exposures and symptoms is neither convenient nor fun.  Still, I would be remiss if I did not suggest it as a way to gain valuable -- and perhaps life-prolonging -- information.  The next step would be to educate oneself as thoroughly as possible on the potentially "triggering" chemicals present in many common products.  Please make liberal use of the information tabs, above.  I am always searching for new pieces of research and anecdotal reporting to add to these link lists.

In the meantime, cheers (!) and a comfortably cool weekend to you --

~ Carolyn 

The Madness to My Method (Part II of today)

Good day!  In this case, "better" day!

As last night's migraine headache winds down this morning, I'm smiling to myself.  Aside from the inevitable dose (or two or three) of ibuprofen, my method of treating my migraines is not completely ordinary.  In fact, it might be classified, "highly unusual."

Whereas many people take to their beds, close the curtains, and dim the lights during such a brain siege, I sit upright at my computer with the lights on and type my heart out.  It's ridiculous for me to lie down.  (And if I'm not lying down, what am I going to do in the dark?)  When I lie down, the pain sloshes around to whatever side of my head touches the pillow, proceeds to throb so that I cannot forget about it for a minute, then concentrates in a sinister way so that I become temporarily numb to it.  When I get up again, vaguely hoping I'm "cured," the migraine sloshes awake with a vengeance, rolls around to another portion of my head, and pounds away.

Not liking to be fooled in this manner, I keep vigil with the monstrous thing.  Instead of trying to tame the beast, I soothe the emotions, instead.  The beast can't reach me there.  And sometimes I truly succeed in finding "shelter" in bursts of consoling inner relief.

Enter . . . music.

Even loud and celebratory music works -- not "rap" or hard "rock" but a good, healthy pulse that you can dig into at the roots.  This engages me in the depths and allows me to pull something robust out from that deeper reservoir where physical pain cannot reach.  In this way, I distract and baffle the migraine, cruising above it on intoxicating sound waves.  The pain persists; but, no longer engulfed by it, I "tolerate" it.  There's a difference . . . . . 

Or, perhaps, in another song, it's not the "pulse" of the music that grips me but the sheer emotional power of the singer; for example, Andrea Bocelli.  So I said to Andrea this morning ("talking" in my head to the YouTube clip), "Go ahead -- BLAST this pain away!" 

I thoroughly enjoyed his Tuscany performance of "Con Te Partiro" at a volume louder than moderate.

I highly recommend this accompanying method of pain amelioration.  The migraine has now vacated and one eye is tearing profusely in relief (reliable sign of "The End"), washing away the vestiges of battle. 

More music, please.  :)

The Higher Things

Hello, Friends,

I write today under duress of an imposing migraine following heavy synthetic-scent exposures, leaving me in earnest search of the mystical element behind this experience.  Well, there was a funeral.  Thursday.  It is, then, perhaps fitting that I experience "'a little' death" following humanity's loss of yet one more treasured person.  I was also given to understand that this person embraced his suffering and death with a smile, heroically.  I am a fool if I don't take that to heart. 

After sufficient torment, this migraine will pass.  And all will be well again.  I should be grateful that my brain has survived so many arterial assaults.  

Yes, I am grateful.  

Never in my childhood did I imagine being repeatedly laid low in adulthood by such innocuous-seeming elements as perfume.  Never, ever, ever.  I wouldn't have believed it was possible.  

But now I know that anything is possible, and things can always get so much worse.  I do myself the greatest favor when I keep my chin up and "hold on tight" right where I am.

So, ironically, I'm writing to explain to you that I am not able to write any more on this particular very early morning.  But I want to.  And I would if I could.   

The important thing is, I'm making contact.  Whoever you are, whenever you alight upon this blog, please take the utmost advantage of the information contained in the various tabs above.  It is hard-won information, indeed, born of the suffering of many, many people who have been pushed out to the margins of society by the ravages of respiratory irritants, nerve toxins, and carcinogens present in many commonly used products.

Please don't let their suffering be in vain.  Please hear the message proclaimed loudly between every line of research and anecdotal information:  Humanity is swimming in excesses of chemicals that can harm many more of us in lasting ways.    

Thank you for stopping by, and please do come back.

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

Has Anyone Asked the Fish?

Hello, Friends,

I'm sorry for the long delay in posting!  I've been giving myself a crash course in aquatic ecosystems.  The matter of the endangered River Shannon in Ireland (see sidebar for further information) came to my attention, and I felt moved to join my voice with those who seek to protect it.  

Why?  Because toxic injury has given me an extra sensitivity toward the undervalued assets of nature and toward the endangerment of both human health and nature.  Time and again, I've witnessed how very much better things are for my own health when nature is assisted as opposed to invaded.  Having been forced to give up my arsenal of chemical "protection" years ago, I've developed a keen appreciation of nature just as she is, for she must now assist me in all the ways I'd dismissed her before.  Why would I have needed nature's help, before, when I could always whip out my handy chemical "purifiers," antibiotics, and whatnot?

And, yes -- my water was "pure," too.  Nicely chlorinated -- as were all the pools I enjoyed for at least four hours a day, every possible clear day, in the summers.  Everything was chemically clean, clean, clean beyond inspection.

Until "clean" began to burn.  It began to cook my eyes, my face, my nose, my central nervous system, my skin, my insides.  Subjected to a heavily chlorinated water supply, I developed recurring kidney irritation.  Back to the doctor and back to the doctor I went -- until I got wise.  I began to brew dandelion tea and corn-silk tea all day and drank it up.  I bought bottled water -- to drink and to cook with -- and took the most perfunctory of showers.  The kidney trouble cleared up like magic.

  

Chemical water disinfection, therefore, had made me sick.  My personal ecosystem had been both disturbed and damaged.  Some effects were temporary; some accumulated and became permanent.

Apply this perspective, now, to any miscellaneous river whose water is to be diverted, in large portion, to a man-made reservoir for "treatment."  This is where the handy disinfectants come in:  algaecides, chlorine . . . . .  Whenever a toxic algal bloom erupts in the water, they can just hammer it with more algaecides -- and they might have to do that many, many times.  Then, there is the matter of which particular algaecides will be used.  Some, apparently, are even worse than others and distinctly ominous for human health.  

At the other end of this "treatment" are people who will drink that water, cook with it, clean with it, launder with it, shower with it, and bathe in it.

When water is diverted from a river in gigantic amounts, the harmonious flow of the river is disturbed, the level of the water can go down, and the temperature of the water can rise.  These factors can increase the likelihood and extent of toxic algal bloom, which would then necessitate an increase in the chemical "treatment" of said water.  This, in turn, would subject the human recipients of that water to any unforeseen byproducts of the chemical arsenal employed to provide them with "safe" water -- not to mention any lingering toxic algal blooms formed in resistance to the "treatment."  If, for recreational purposes, people are using a reservoir which is subject to frequent harmful algal blooms, their health can be endangered by the blooms.

Of course, everything is to be monitored and controlled.  That's what they always say.  Why, then, are people increasingly becoming sick, as I did, from such things as chlorinated water?  The water systems are monitored and controlled.  These people should not be reacting to chlorine in their water.

But they are.

If there is one thing I've learned from having to manage the reverberating aftereffects of toxic injury, it's this:  Invasion of any natural system -- whether it be a person or a river -- should always be the tactic of last resort, decided upon only after all other organic, conservative measures have been exhausted.  Man can do as he wishes, but if he makes a mistake which irreparably damages nature, nature will simply continue on that damaged track -- at which point many of those people who could not be bothered to care, before, will begin to notice.  And nature will forge on, obediently following that damaged track. 

When nature is put on a new track, she simply follows it with all of her -- nature.    

Hence, the track must be both safe and sound.  In the case of a river, perhaps the fish are the best indicators of the river's well-being and stamina.  Fish are to the river, it seems, what we chemically sensitive "canaries" are to the "coal mine."

Wishing you safe and abundant water and respite from the chemicals in your midst --

Cheers!

~ Carolyn