Reminiscing . . . My First Thoughts for Beginning This Blog

Hello, Friends,

I was just recalling my first visits to chemical sensitivity websites way back in 2010, when my ideas for this blog were just beginning to percolate.

Following is the text* of one of my first dips into the waters of this vast field of environmental medicine and environmental awareness:


                  ********************************************************   

*TEXT of my letter to The Chemical Edge website:

Dear Author,

I’ve missed your name — but what an outstanding piece you’ve put together! This is an incredible resource. I’ve been suffering with MCS for the past 20 years. I only began making sense of the pattern of reacting to chemicals, however, in the mid-1990’s. It took a few years for me to “get it.” I’m only now taking the proactive route of trying to boost public awareness.

I was asked, yesterday, to provide statistics on how many homeless people are homeless specifically due to MCS. The person who asked me is a public advocate for the homeless. This person could begin to raise public awareness very effectively, armed with the proper statistics.

Do you have such statistics? (And I would love to know your name, also!)

Thanks so much.

Carolyn Marra

  by Carolyn Marra June 25, 2010 at 13:39 


"MCS 101.2: Definitions and Links" [scroll down for comments]


Thank you, Varda Burstyn, for the kindness of your communication back in 2010; and thank you, especially, for an outstanding website with volumes and volumes of information on common chemicals and their detrimental effects!


Readers, don't miss a visit to:

The Chemical Edge - Everyday Chemicals and Our Fragile Health


Cheers!

~ Carolyn

Humble Treasure

Kidneys' steady moan of pain . . .
would wish it not
but now, again . . . 
the ache bores in
without remit;
no way to get
the hang of it,
just sit . . .  and sip
some dandelion-root tea,
liquid mineral
purity . . . 

Relief enters in
for the first time in hours!
To thank:  humble roots
of dandelion flowers.

The Impact of Metals

Hello, Friends,

For anyone interested in what heavy metal toxicity can do to a person . . .  You've been reading it here.

What follows is, for me, priceless information (!):

I saw a new practitioner last week who took samples from me and tested . . .  I'm high in many metals,* cadmium at the top of the list.  I see, from the following abstract, that cadmium has a particularly adverse effect on the kidneys:

Cadmium & its adverse effects on human health. By Bernard A. , Department of Public Health, Catholic University of Louvain, Belgium. bernard@toxi.ucl.ac.be; NCBI PubMed.gov; US National Library of Medicine, National Institutes of Health

I have no blood sugar problem.  My blood sugar is good -- even my calcium is good.  But my ability to digest is very poor.  My Vitamin C stores are completely depleted.  My adrenals are exhausted and I'm inundated with toxins.

Metals.  If I have the courage to take the supplements suggested to me (new supplements always take courage, for me), I might actually detoxify!

The rest of this little report is very interesting.  Last Friday, I underwent acupuncture with this new practitioner.  First, I underwent "colorpuncture."**  This is the shining of colored lights on various meridian points in the body.  This prepared the body for receptivity of the real acupuncture needles -- and, you see, I thought I was escaping this by having colorpuncture, but I was wrong!

So there I was, a pincushion.  A strange and wonderful thing happened.  I'd gone into the practitioner's office with my throat so swollen on one side, it felt like a pillow in there around which the food and liquid had to move.  It was very disconcerting, to put it mildly.

Within a few minutes of all the acupuncture needles having been placed, I felt my throat again.  There was no perceived obstruction.  I could swallow normally, freely.  I had my throat back!

This weekend, I was around chemicals which started it up all over again in the throat.  Today, however, the throat has come down.  My knees/legs/feet, while still holding inflammation, are performing significantly better.  My knees aren't cracking and I'm able to walk up and down stairs much more normally.  The muscles of the knees are now weak, because the knees had been so full and stiff for so long, the muscles couldn't even operate.  But today, I'm doing chores!  I've been sleeping much more normally.

I haven't yet taken the supplement I was advised to take.  I'll tell you why.  I wanted -- indeed, needed -- to see what the acupuncture had accomplished all on its own.  I approach new interventions logically.  Yes, I want to feel better.  But I also want to know exactly what each piece of the intervention is capable of doing, taken alone.  I'll be working up to taking the supplement I'm supposed to be taking.

This is what the acupuncture did for me, all by itself:

1)  It helped me to feel my fatigue once again (I wasn't feeling it because my adrenal system was running in highest gear, all out of whack), and to sleep like a normal person.  The acupuncture calmed down the whole system and reset it at a lower level, a calmer level.  The calming effect began right away, while the needles were in.  It would have been nice to take a nap right there.  That was the goal, and it worked.

2)  I can feel my body finally able to help itself a bit.  After being exposed to polyurethane over the weekend -- and now that I think of it, the smell had been wafting upward to the upper levels of the building I was in for over an hour before I entered the actual room that contained it on the floors -- I felt physically sickened and discombobulated and could only sleep a few hours that night.  As a chemical reaction progresses, I always feel a "cap" on my appetite, as though something "plastic" has settled upon and within me.  It's a nearly queasy and sometimes outright queasy feeling.  This is a signal to me, always, that digestion cannot happen and that I'm in this reaction "for the long haul."  When digestion freezes and appetite cannot be felt, that, for me, is always "phase 1."  "Phase 1" was definitely occurring. 

As the reaction reached its peak, I felt completely undone yesterday, from a central nervous system perspective; but today, I'm doing unusually well.

3)  My knees aren't full to the point of crackling.  I can walk up the stairs and the knees -- although the muscles around them are now very weak from having been frozen in place due to swelling -- are moving normally.

4) I'd been barely able to eat, but now I'm eating a little bit more.  While I can only take in a little bit of food at a time, I can feel hunger again.

This is all wonderful and amazing to me.  I'm so grateful.  I hope to feel better and better and to help others by recounting this experience.

Cheers!

~ Carolyn


*(1) "If a person has a high body burden of lead, mercury, or other heavy metals, those heavy metals are thought to contribute to the development or aggravation of MCS."  Quote from Arizona Center for Advanced Medicine, June 26, 2013.
 
**(2) I do not delve, myself, into what are termed the "spiritual" aspects of any alternative treatments.  I strictly focus upon the biological realities utilized in those treatments which I believe have a sound scientific basis.  I hope, each time, that alternative medicine is really onto something scientifically based and effective with this or that promising procedure.

From the Outside

Hello, Friends,

LOL, this just caught my eye:  "Meet the Nasa employee whose job it is to sniff everything before it goes into space" - by Christopher Hooton, The Independent (UK), July 2, 2014.

So that's what it looks like from the outside!

Check this out --  I wrote it back in 2011:


Book Troubles (or Strong Scents Clinging to Paper - The MCS Files)

I'm reading a story about a girl whose boyfriend broke up with her because she was reading a book at a funeral.  Prior to that, she'd walked into a lamppost while reading.  Reading while cooking, she'd accidentally started a kitchen fire.

As for myself, I was caught sniffing a book Saturday at the library, checking for absorbed scents too strong to bring home.  The pretty, petite librarian clicked by happily in her high heels when I heard -- and saw, out of the corner of my eye -- the sudden catch in her step.  It was then that I realized the book in my hand was still held up to my nose.

She picked up speed again, thankfully . . . . .


It's a way of life.   :)

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

Too Sick To Be Sick

I'm quietly resting at home today, drinking fluids.

While "earthing" yesterday at Gloucester Bay, Massachusetts, I tried twice to Tweet a photo.  Neither photo went through.

I took this as a sign:  It was an oxymoron to "earth" with a cell phone.  I turned off the device -- except to take isolated photos when something picturesque came into view -- and luxuriated in the serenity of a large, sun-warmed rock.  Ensconced upon this benevolent chair, I finally felt the earth under me.  Contact. One-to-one.  Self-to-rock.  This was a physical connection which expanded exponentially to include the reverberations of sand, ocean, currents, sun, and sky.  I wasn't about to move.  Not yet.  Not for a while.

A mother with a vivid Bostonian accent tended energetically to her child on the sand.  I enjoyed the ring of both accent and action.  Hearty.  Direct.  Strong.  Capable.

I let the sun shine on my swollen legs draped over chosen rock.  Warmth from above and below.  Now, I had it all.

With every little lap of the tide, gratitude washed over me.  I was alive.  Some 15+ hours earlier, the word "hospital" had been coursing through my head.  Unable either to sit or to lie down, I had leaned on hotel windowsill, chair, and desk like a woman in labor.  Could barely speak, barely moan.  Color gray and green, I'd alternated between hot and cold as the pain seized and temporarily paralyzed each set of internal organs in turn, beginning with a sore, abrasive sensation in the highest region of the stomach and working its way down over a 12-hour period.

First, the muscles seized up and squeezed me in the region of the pancreas and liver.  Hours later, the pain moved down into the kidney area.  Wherever it moved in the front and side, the pain also went to the corresponding level of my back, so that sitting against or lying upon the affected areas was impossible.  I was sore from the inside to the outside.  The kidney area was then gripped in this way for several hours.  Pressure was building inside of me because digestion and metabolism were literally frozen at these places.  I was swelling more and more in the middle, could barely cart myself around, the sensation of being weighted down was increasing, and I thought I might die.  I went from sweaty to chilly, color green to gray, back and forth, back and forth.

I felt the instinct to get myself outdoors.  I crept my way down the hotel stairs, barely able to inhale against the neurological restriction gripping me, outside to the car.  I tried to sit in the passenger seat with the windows open.  My back was too painful in the kidney area.  It was impossible to lean back.  My middle was growing intolerably heavy with the increasing swelling of paralyzed digestion.  I could barely move, but I stood up and leaned on the open car door, not caring what I looked like.  I was laboring against something toxic that was trying to kill me.  That's all I knew.

Insight came with a blast when I was able to focus on the significance of a relief measure I'd discovered several years ago.  It's not a cure, but it always relieves to a marked extent.  This relief measure consists of: (1) intense massage pressure applied to the feet (especially to the soles/arches), and (2) the squeezing of the pad of the big toe.  These measures have the effect of helping release the grip of the digestive/abdominal/back muscles to some extent, enough to enable easier breathing and some relaxation under the overall feeling of intense muscular restriction and pain.  There are apparently some noteworthy nerve paths from these areas of the feet to the digestive muscles.

Out there by the car, the significance of the consistent effectiveness of this partial relief measure pierced through my consciousness with absolute certainty:  What I was experiencing, although it played out through the entire digestive tract, was definitely a neurological event . . . poisoned tissue and nerves recoiling, systemically.

Let me count the triggers:  Extreme and abrasive synthetic scents (e.g., chemical deodorizers) in a historical building we'd visited that afternoon.  I was exposed to these repeatedly, on and off, for over an hour.  Two to 15 minutes is usually sufficient to do damage to me.  This went above and beyond.  Shortly before that, I'd ingested a restaurant meal of grilled cheese and french fries.  I couldn't even remember the last time I'd had grilled cheese out.  This kind of restaurant meal often involves the spraying of pans with synthetic oils.

During my last trip involving a hotel stay in September, 2013, it was highly probable that a hotel breakfast I'd eaten had come from cookware sprayed with a synthetic oil.  If my meal had not been affected by synthetic spray right there on the buffet line, then it was clear that the cooks would obviously have had no objection, in general, to using this spray within the kitchen -- from whence the food emerged.

This had been a chemical procedure which was easy to see, although the realization that it might well have affected my own food came much later.  Much spraying of the oil had been done by servers and guests, alternately, on the buffet line where some food items were cooking.  The guests were spraying it on the cookware excessively, some doing this several times over.  I'd had a physical reaction, on the way home from that trip, identical to the reaction I've been describing here, above.  In that hotel, last September, there had also seemed to have been reapplications of synthetic deodorizers in the public areas.

The essence of the problem, as I see it, is the impact of both inhaled and ingested neurotoxins.  For me, this impact is disastrous.  In case I had any doubts, I realized this weekend that I am still very chemically sensitive.  I need to pay attention.

I reflected upon the increased swelling of my lower limbs over the past several weeks and months . . . which has steadily improved since this physically cataclysmic event of two nights ago.  My knees are beginning to feel like knees again, instead of like two swollen and gritty pools of sludge.  The swelling around my ankles has come down noticeably.  I've been exceptionally careful, since two nights ago, to avoid chemicals in food and air.

What had been different for me over the past year -- or two?

Increasingly, I've exposed myself to more and more neurotoxins, neglectful of a process called "masking."  It is said that chemical sensitivity, over time, can change in its physical symptomatology.  Some symptoms can disappear, or become "masked," while the chemical sensitivity continues and even increases on other physical levels.  Quietly, unobtrusively, the body is overwhelmed until it becomes "too sick to be sick."  The toxicity, at this point, is so bad, it's embedded deeply within the body.  Organ systems can be affected.

Over the past year, especially, I've tried to approximate doing everything "normal" people do.  I've eaten plenty of foods with chemical additives, thinking I was scoring so many victories.  There have been no complete cessations of airborne chemical exposures for me anymore -- it's been one exposure on top of another within a day or two of the last one.  My rest periods from chemical exposures used to be longer, more defined, more deliberate.  They worked.

Until digestion resumed and my metabolism started flowing smoothly again yesterday and today, I hadn't realized I'd been so utterly filled with ingested and airborne toxins that I couldn't tell up from down, so to speak.  Now, I feel much more clean and clear.  Because the Massachusetts hotel room, besides being impeccably clean, was also remarkably scent-free, I was able to recover there beside an open window.  I slept the longest I've slept in months.  There is a calm to my physical being, a more fully "present" feeling, a long-missed sensation of being "in command."

It took a severe crisis to bring this about.  But since it did, and since I lived through it, I can discern through my body and mind the huge impact of being free of those toxins.  I am so grateful.  Grateful to have learned this priceless lesson:

I am truly chemically sensitive, and denial is not an option.  Being able to reclaim that truth and work with it -- even at this late date, whether or not I still have Lyme disease -- is a gift that I dare not spurn.

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

The Impending Purification

I was younger than I am now when I wrote the story in the previous post.  I was even younger than that when I wrote this small item (early 2011).  I really put my heart into this one:

I envision, at some unnamed date in the future, a "detergent-and-fabric-softener, et al." environmental cleanup that would rival those mandated for asbestos and Chinese drywall.

When they realize the incredible particulate damage to human health wrought by the pungent, peppery, acerbic, neurotoxic synthetic fragrances that define most laundry, cleaning, hygiene, and deodorizing products in America, people will be rushing to throw out entire wardrobes, bed linens, curtains, carpets, and all upholstered items in their homes.  The invisible particulate of these neurotoxic fragrances clings, cloyingly, to all absorbent surfaces it touches.  Library books, milk and juice cartons, paper supplies, and plastic-wrapped foods are not spared.

****************************************************

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

Keeping My Chin Up (the MCS Files)

~ Written by me in May, 2012.  I was younger* when I wrote this.  I began in the middle of the story.   I'll catch up with you at the end . . .  
  
And so I went to get the verdict.  On the ailing shoulder.  I didn't want to go.  This reluctance made no sense to me, because I really did like the doctor.  

I got lost twice on the way then entered the wrong building, whose hallways smelled like an overdose of disinfectant.  A counselor in one of its offices told me that the doctor had probably moved to the next building over, but now I felt like staying right where I was . . . the counselor was so nice, so forgiving -- we can never have too much forgiveness . . . . .

I wanted to go home, but I didn't go.  I tried the next building.  It didn't smell, but the elevator squealed and heaved and the stairwell was dark and desolate, with ominous splotches on the cement.  With the elevator out of the question and the stairwell looking menacing, that was it.  What if the entry and exit doors locked me in?  I was going home.

I started to go.

Nearly to the front door, I pondered the shame of it all.  A 49-year-old woman afraid of a stairwell.  I imagined myself hunched over, some 10 years later, with an immobilized shoulder; a gnarled, useless hand;  back bent, neck twisted from all the compensating contortions I would have had to assume, having chosen to avoid the stairwell that could have led to my deliverance.

I turned back, acted purposeful (there was now a lady in the hallway), and jammed myself into the stairwell, racing up the stairs with my eyes nearly shut.  The doors did not lock me in at top or bottom.  This was fortunate.  Having reached my destination, I met the lady from the downstairs hallway now exiting the elevator.  It apparently had not trapped her or sucked all the air out of her lungs.  Things were looking up.

Colognes wafted through the waiting room . . . but even this was better than the dank, stained stairwell, so I sat and inhaled.  Ushered finally into the doctor's office, a sense of relief came over me.  Now I felt like crying.  In my mind's eye, I pictured my tears drenching the room, dripping off the examining table, pouring over the countertops, causing the chair to float.  Salt water pooled in my eyes.  I wiped it away.  What on earth.  This was an orthopedist.

The shoulder was fine, fine -- just rotator-cuff tendonitis, solved easily with a buffalo-sized dose of anti-inflammatories twice per day for two weeks.  I already knew this wasn't going to happen -- I can't take most prescription medications -- but I stayed agreeable because, as doctors go, this one was a patient's dream.  Prompt, calm, cheerful, uncomplicated.  (He told me I could keep the paper gown -- said it looked good on me.  This brought forth a giggle.) 

Now I just have to hunt down the natural ("alternative") equivalent of 16 (yes, sixteen!) 200-mg ibuprofen tablets per day.  This shouldn't be hard . . . . . 

Upon exiting the building, the source of my mad apprehension was realized in full.  The surrounding air and lawn, which had previously smelled like air and lawn, were now overtaken by something I would have to call at least the equivalent of dry-cleaning fluid.  It was just everywhere.  To myself, I called it, "Perflourocholoromanganate," because that's exactly what it smelled like.   

To my horror, small children were outside next door playing under the watch of their day-care teachers -- with the air smelling as though the little town had just been the victim of chemical warfare.  

The headache is coming now, and I'm getting ready to meet it. 

***********************************

(Slight verbal errors corrected, June 16, 2014.)

*Alluding to the obvious date of May, 2012 -- as in "'younger' than I am now, in 2014" -- cited immediately prior to this statement -- poking fun at myself. 

My shoulder had felt a bit strange as I'd reached forward to put my items on the checkout line at the supermarket; my arm later became immobilized, with sharp pain.  My kind neighbor, Nancy (thank you, Nancy, again!), saved the day for me by bringing over the magnesium oil spray she'd carefully researched.  Upon spraying it on the shoulder, I began gradually to regain movement there.  Although I had the shoulder checked out by the M.D. (above) to verify that there was no injury to the joint, I never needed the anti-inflammatory medication he prescribed.  The magnesium oil pulled me through.

Cheers!

~ Carolyn
                 

Injustice Severe

Out of sync,

raw nerves triggered

by a blast of unknown scent

inhuman, unfriendly, unbearable,

wafting through the trees,

tainting the sweet forest

then gone, gone . . . 

except for what is left

in me,

pulsing through my head

unnaturally,

pounding for over a day,

stealing my time, my life,

belittling intentions,

erasing plans,

mocking the calendar,

setting obscure nerves into

frightening seizures of motion,

and tilting my world

beyond my reach. 

This, the destruction wreaked 

by harsh and unforgiving

molecules

thus rearranged and approved by man

then borne away with the wind

to no account.  
 
~ Written by me, 2011

Cheers!

~ Carolyn 

Where's "Vinegar"?

May 30, 2014

Hello, Friends,

A funny thought occurred to me a little while ago . . . 

Perhaps I'll make a post out of it.  After all, this blog has undergone some changes since 2011.  It surely can't hurt to update readers on the status of things.

When I began this blog in 2011, I wrote under my real name, Carolyn.  Then, I liked the sound of "Daisies" because it went so well with the blog title.  I switched over to the pen name of "Daisies" for a while.  But, all things considered, it seemed simpler and more commonsensical to use my own name.

So, here I am, the same Carolyn, the only author of this blog there has ever been.  The title "Daisies and Vinegar" was, from the moment of this blog's inception, meant to be a catchy phrase combining two natural, fresh-as-sunshine nouns in a memorable way.  It was never meant to denote the existence of two authors!  In-between, I made some title changes which, frankly, didn't work for me.  I then went back to the title "Daisies and Vinegar" -- with the "2011" added now -- and I'm happy that I did.  But -- LOL -- there's never been any author "Vinegar" on this blog, or any other author by any other name.  Just myself.  

There are, indeed, blogs where two or more people participate as authors/arrangers/contributors, etc.  It never dawned on me, until this evening, that people could actually be wondering where "Vinegar" was!  The thought made me laugh -- just imagining someone writing as "Vinegar" . . .

At any rate, in case anyone was wondering where "Vinegar" went -- well, you've read this far and I think I've made the point.    :)

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

From the Inside

Swollen from knees to feet, I've been.  I'd look at my big and small bottles of supplements and, instinctively, could barely take any of them.  Something in me said, "No.  Wrong answer."  This year-long regimen now felt inaccurate, unbalanced.

I began to take charge.  Went back to my trusted chiropractor.  A little step.  But he was ready with the encouragement I wanted and needed.

That led to another little step.  I went back to my herbal practitioner.  He gave me various mixtures of herbs in water.  Bingo!

By the next day, I was moving around again.  Getting things done.  Without thinking first about having to get things done.  Just . . . doing.  This always means some inflammation is being significantly reduced.  In my toes, for starters.  And in my knees.  It's not only about how it looks.  It always begins to happen . . . on the inside.

And when wellness really begins to happen on the inside, motion begins.  The motion of living.  I go to the store, but now I not only drive there -- I go in.  I follow my list and get what I need.  I leave.  I drive home.

When the overall systemic inflammation is really bad, I drive to the store and then find I'm too tired to get out of the car -- and then I drive home.  Can I count how many times this has happened?  All I know is, too many times.

I was in a major "healthy" food store this afternoon.  As I was walking toward the freezer to grab some nutritionally packed loaves of (sprouted) Ezekiel Bread, a young clerk wheeled around to announce to me that, on Easter Sunday, it will be 61 degrees outside.  This made me happy, and this made him happy.  He followed this up by praising God, with upraised voice, a few times.  He was a sweet and gentle soul, and I appreciated his innocent exuberance.

I thought to myself, "I'm with you, brother!  I'm grabbing my sprouted wheat bread even though the antibody test said wheat makes my antibodies rise -- because I still believe in wheat and I think I really need a metabolically safe and worthy specimen of it and the herbal practitioner agrees that there's more to it than just an isolated antibody test . . . and, to my great joy, dear clerk, I'm reaching into this freezer and buying this bread because my whole being says, 'YES, buy that bread!'"

Just a few days earlier, as I was beginning to reflect to myself, "Hmm, I wonder if there's such a thing as 'too much iodine,'" the herbal practitioner said that my thyroid is fine and I don't need the liquid kelp.  He agreed with my thought that, possibly, too much liquid kelp -- over-treating the thyroid gland -- could have been contributing to the leg-and-feet swelling.  I backtracked and asked him about the Lyme disease I'd had in the spring and summer -- because that was thought to have made my legs and feet swell.  He explained that, when the Lyme is gone [which it is], you can then see what's been going on underneath it and address those issues.  He said that the Lyme had, indeed, made the swelling worse.  This was true.  I did have some baseline swelling, and then it got much worse when the Lyme hit.

Now, any time I have any germ or physical invader coursing through my system, my legs and feet swell considerably more.  When the physical invader is wiped out by the herbs, the swelling goes down and functionality returns.  But there is that baseline swelling, still.

This is my challenge.  It's a non-bacterial, rheumatic-type thing.  This is the thing which, perhaps, too much iodine was also worsening.  Additionally, my own thoughts are that there is also a lack of something -- or of many things -- in my diet, nutritionally.  Which is why I'm reaching out for that sprouted wheat bread.

The sprouted form acts much less like wheat, and it's filled with vitamins, minerals, and fiber.  Fish oil, I'm sure, will also help.  I use Carlson's fish oil because it's highly rated as being free of many contaminants.  First, however, I'm going to build myself up a bit nutritionally because, when my meals aren't solid -- when they're insubstantial in some significant way -- I get arrhythmias (PVC's).  The fish oil, being a very effective anti-inflammatory substance, tends to drop the blood pressure in a way that I can feel.  This, for me, can be a precursor to compensatory PVC's -- the heart's attempt to right the balance.

My journey from flagrant MCS into flagrant Lyme, then out of Lyme into decreased MCS, then battling lingering inflammation . . . this is not a smooth journey.  There are ups and downs and seesawing back and forth between this regimen of supplementation and that, this nutritional plan or that.  There is progress and there are setbacks.  But with each setback often comes a new kernel of knowledge, and I build on that.

What will happen to my regimen of vitamin/mineral supplementation?  Well, some mainstays, such as magnesium and calcium, I'll continue to take in the 1:2 or the 1:1 ratio, respectively.  Other supplements will be eliminated or adjusted.  It was suggested to me that I cut my Carlson's Vitamin D3 dosage of 4,000 i.u. per day in half now.  There can also be such a thing as too much Vitamin D, I was told.  With the warmer weather on the way, I'll focus on being out in the sun.  I'm going to put more of my attention now on Carlson's Vitamin E "E-Gems Elite."  I'd forgotten to take iron, so that's a major problem easily fixed:  I'll take the iron.  Added back into the lineup from years ago will be several cups of dandelion root tea per day and 500 mg of Vitamin B-6 per day, to combat fluid retention.  And . . . my trusty Nutricology Buffered Vitamin C powder will add some overall resiliency and smooth out the rough edges.  All of this plus daily walking.
 
I've suffered more from MCS lately -- once again.  There haven't been many cataclysmic migraines, but there are those pulsing and balance-affecting reactions of the eye/facial area and the central nervous system which can last into the next day.  My chemical-sensitivity reactions are markedly deceased and muted, but they're still present.  I've wondered often, lately, if inhaled common chemicals in the public arena are also contributing, much more than I've realized, to the swelling in my legs and feet.

When you've been radically chemically sensitive and have fallen prey to Lyme disease, you instinctively keep your eyes and ears open to more information on these lines.

If I learn anything new, I'll drop off the information here!

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

The Sanity of Beauty

While I'm neither an environmental engineer nor a whiz at quick mathematical calculations, I can readily comprehend when something is beautiful.

Science and statistical projections can easily elude those of us who aren't inclined to interpret the world through those lenses.  Beauty, however, is within the reach of us all.

When something beautiful is endangered, we can feel the shame of the impending loss somewhere down deep in our spirits; yet, we don't always react to the endangerment of beautiful things.  Beauty can be equated, at times, with mere sentimental value.  When it is seen only in this light, beauty can be easily dispensed with, sacrificed -- for a perceived higher good.

People in Dublin need more water -- while I'm sitting here envisioning the picturesqueness of the River Shannon and writing about beauty.  Why would I do this?

The Irish in me flinched upon learning that the integrity of this great and legendary River Shannon was endangered -- specifically by what appeared to be only partially considered, strictly utilitarian plans for large-scale water abstraction from its lovely bounty.

I consider, here, ends and means.  The desired end, in this case, is good:  more water for human beings.  The means proposed in order to achieve this end, however, fail to give adequate consideration to alternative solutions and to potential flaws in the plans, themselves.  Are such means, then, truly justified?

I go back to consideration of "the beautiful."  What makes something beautiful?

Something truly beautiful, I believe, carries the imprint of order within itself and radiates the purity of that order.  Something ordered is something which is in balance with itself and its surroundings.

Balance.  An artistic portrait, to give one example, is said to be beautiful when the features of the face are well-proportioned.

A musical work can build a stunning structure of sound around the simplicity of ordered rhythms and compatible harmonies.  Again:  order, balance, proportion.

If the highlights of true beauty are order, balance, and proportion -- these things, in turn, bespeak some kind of an intelligence.  A portrait of great beauty is intelligently made.  A musical work of great beauty is intelligently made.

A river of great beauty, also, is intelligently made.

When we consider the intricate intelligence at play within a river ecosystem, we can marvel at its vastness.  Because of this complex biological interconnectedness, what happens at one end of a river can profoundly affect the creatures at the other end of the river.  The repercussions of the smallest change in a river ecosystem can be staggering.

This is no random occurrence.  If, on a strictly scientific level, we accept the reality of a river ecosystem, then we also implicitly admit that man's interventions can pose a fearsome risk to such a well-oiled machine.  This very awareness of "ecosystem" now holds us responsible to respect the totality of intelligence which choreographs the movement of every last eel and salmon. How big are we, really, in the face of this?  What might be the consequences of exaggerating our own size by thoughtlessly dismissing nature's repeated cautions of disturbed and damaged ecosystems?

Many people attend schools of higher learning in order to begin to probe, in a serious manner, nature's secrets of biological interconnectedness.  We humans often require higher learning merely in order to pose intelligent questions about the inner functioning of the natural world.  The profound intelligence of order in the natural world can only dimly be sensed by even the most brilliant scientist.  Should we not, then, give the greatest of pause before the shining majesty of a river which, for century upon century, has sustained a country with the bounty of its beauty?

This would seem the most sane thing to do.



"Dublin to get water from River Shannon by 2020" - Fionnan Sheahan Group Political Editor – Published 12 May 2014, Independent.ie 

"Fixing pipes could pull plug on Shannon plan" - by Conor Feehan, Herald.ie, February 17, 2014

What Worked

Hello, Friends,

I've been reflecting . . .

When I felt my physical best in adulthood, what had I done to recapture such wellness?

First, I had my "you need a biopsy" scare, which I've written about previously.  Feeling desperate to avoid cancer at that time,  I looked up a complementary medicine physician.  I then attended a lecture of his at a local bookstore.  His expertise was evident.

I became his patient in the summer of 1998.  The goal, for me, was a simple one:  Avoid cancer.  Since the good doctor could not guarantee that I did not already have cancer, he advised me to go through with the biopsy which was hanging ominously over my head.  I did this within a few months.  Thankfully, all turned out well.  No cancer. 

The regimen advised by my new physician was not easy, but that didn't faze me.  I hadn't yet thought to raise the question of my being tested for gluten/gliadin antibodies, so a gluten-free lifestyle never came up as a topic.  The doctor did, however, give me an "avoid" list.  I was to avoid all wheat products except spelt and a bread made entirely of sprouted ingredients, called "Ezekiel Bread."  I was to avoid all dairy products.  No cow's yogurt, no goat yogurt, no ice cream, no cheese. This left organic, non-GMO soy milk as a protein-based drink for me.  [The physician later advised me to avoid soy milk, having acquired misgivings about its safety and efficacy -- at least in my own case.]

The "avoid" list also encompassed many other things -- e.g., chemically afflicted foods and products -- which I can't remember precisely right now.  The doctor gave me a medium-sized list of supplements to take.  My Vitamin C stores were something like sub-zero despite my having taken exorbitant amounts of many different brands of C, so this time I took Nutricology's "Buffered Vitamin C Powder."  This formulation turned out to be very "bioavailable" to me -- which meant that I could actually absorb it and benefit from it.  (The physician explained that the other brand of Vitamin C I'd been using the most turned out to be "not bioavailable" to many people.  This was a learning moment.  I felt quite different when taking Nutricology's "Buffered C" powder.)

I followed this dietary regimen to the letter.  Pounds just fell off me.  Pretty soon I was back to clothes in teenage sizes.  My body felt "clear."  Free of sludge.  Light, bouncy.  I remember thinking to myself that the last time I'd felt that way was when I was in the seventh grade.

Which was ironic, because my esteemed physician's wisdom and guidance had given me just enough stamina to take on a full-time job teaching a small class of seventh- and eighth-graders for the 1998-99 school year.  While it's true that I was thoroughly wiped out at the end of each school day and crashed on the couch as soon as I got home, I was elated at how sprightly I felt while engaged in my job.  I noticed this especially at recess time on the playground.  I could move around as freely and quickly as any of my students.  I was amazed.  I recall eating canned sardines for lunch most days, sardines being one of the more chemically safe fish available at the time.

This dietary regimen also kept excessive amounts of migraine headaches at bay.  While I was still highly chemically sensitive at the time, I was able to be in a school building amidst all of the clothing fragrances, shampoo fragrances, soap fragrances, and what have you.  My migraines were reduced to a much more manageable frequency.  I was eating only organic fruit and organic fresh vegetables -- organic everything to the greatest extent possible.  The whole routine, including the periodic doctor visits, was a very expensive venture.  Which is why it's extremely hard to do that all over again now.  Fees have only gone up since then.

So, in terms of choreographing food regimens, I'm on my own for a while.  It helps to recall that incredible restoration of my health back in 1998 and 1999, and all that went into it.  I'd stopped thinking about it, stopped learning from it, because it has seemed so far out of my grasp these days.  The extreme swelling in my lower limbs from Lyme disease in the spring/summer, and the residual inflammation which still remains in my lower limbs even as I write this, put a bit of a dent in me.  I'm presently in search of a remedy for this.

Had I not felt free to use soy milk as a protein mainstay back in 1998-99, that dietary regimen would have been much more difficult for me to sustain. When my protein intake falls too low, I get cardiac arrhythmias.  So I have to be sure that I have a protein source readily available.  This is a tough thing for me to do without the easy protein from soy milk.  Coconut milk, for example, has very little protein.  It's a wonderful powerhouse of nutrition and supposedly excellent for the metabolism, but if it's quick protein I need, I've learned that I'd better seek out another source.  Gluten-free protein bars can take you only so far, and who needs all that sugar? 

My present status is "gluten-free" once again, and I'm contemplating -- also "once again" -- attempting to give up all dairy.  For a gluten-free person, giving up dairy requires much more home-cooking and advance preparation of protein-based foods with gluten-free flours.  In short, it requires work.

However, the better I feel as I become more and more distant from my last serving of gluten, the more energy I hope to have with which to expand upon this gluten-free lifestyle.  I must confess, it still boggles my mind that so many people, myself included, benefit from giving up those very foods which are supposed to be so nurturing to human health.  My philosophical difficulty with embracing this contradiction accounts for the numerous times I begin to give up gluten and dairy and then go back to both.  I cannot deny, however, that my health really picks up when I give up both staple foods.

If I think about this scenario in a long-term light, I don't think I can keep up with avoiding these foods.  If I think about it only in terms of this day, this hour . . .

Maybe I can do this.  :)

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

Don't Starve Your Gallbladder!

If you don't give your gallbladder something real and substantial to chew on, it begins to pine away . . .

Good fats -- not those synthetically greasy, gloppy, indigestible, waxy, "plastic" specimens often called "snacks" -- are those real and substantial things.  

By contrast, if you feed your gallbladder a watery, "lite" diet of low-fat or fatless foods, the gallbladder shrinks and withers from lack of exercise.  Then, it becomes too weak and frail either to feed off the good fats or to throw off the fake fats (those imposter "trans fats").  It becomes a mess in there and the gallbladder starts to shriek in pain.

Friends, we really need to keep our gallbladders, because when the gallbladder goes, all of the breaking down and detoxifying now falls to the liver.  True, the gallbladder pain stops when the gallbladder is removed (!) -- but deep on the inside, it becomes a desperate situation, because the liver can't really do all of that work alone.  And now the poor person is stuck with only a liver.  Maybe two functional kidneys, too -- but even two kidneys can't atone for that missing gallbladder.

If your gallbladder is already gone, I'm very sorry.  Please be careful of what you ingest, on behalf of your exceedingly valuable liver (see the last link, below, for helpful information).

If you still have your gallbladder -- let me tell you my own little story.  When my first gallstone attack struck,  I'd already been forewarned by Dr. Joseph Mercola's writings about the precaution of holding on to one's gallbladder if at all possible.  But there I was, on a cold wintry night, suddenly beset with a boring pain, front and back, up high.  I looked at my face in the mirror and it was green.  I wondered if I'd pass out.  I felt weak all over and completely defenseless against the pain.  It was off to the hospital for me.  I remember sitting up in an emergency room bed for about five hours, barely moving because the pain was so bad.  They mapped out my gallstones on ultrasound, showed the picture to me, told me my gallbladder was inflamed, and said that I'd have to have it removed shortly.  I listened respectfully but decided to keep my gallbladder.  They gave me some ibuprofen, and the attack subsided shortly thereafter.  I focused on the really good fats after that.  My complementary-medicine physician later affirmed that I should treat the gallbladder well by eating good, whole, organic-if-possible fats.

Somewhere within that year or the next, I heard about an herbal practitioner who'd had many successes with curing various ailments through a modern, Oriental-style approach to the body.  I believe I went to him, that first time, for several miscellaneous complaints.  After his first exam and treatment, I asked him how my gallbladder was doing.  He said, "I fixed it.  It's gone [the problem].  Your gallbladder's fine."

I thought, "Whoa."

To the best of my calculations, that was nine or ten years ago.  I still have my gallbladder!  Most times, when I go back for another visit with this practitioner, I ask him, "How's my gallbladder doing?"  He always says, "It's fine."

With the greatest of gratitude, let me say that I don't take my gallbladder lightly.

While I don't claim to agree with every single detail or suggestion mentioned in the following links, I think the overall direction of these pieces represents my own thinking, in general, on this topic.  I'd like to pass on to you what I can regarding the preservation of the irreplaceable gallbladder (and helpful hints for those whose gallbladders have already been removed):

"Taking the Fear Out of Eating Fat" - by Lori Lipinski, April 30, 2003 (The Weston A. Price Foundation)

"Gallstone Treatment" (January 02, 2008) - An informative comment by Dr. Joseph Mercola of Mercola.com

"Problems with Digestion? This Type of Food May Be To Blame..." (January 06, 2011) - by Dr. Joseph Mercola of Mercola.com

"Five Important Tips if You've Had Gallstones or Your Gallbladder Removed" ( April 10, 2004) - by Dr. Joseph Mercola with Rachael Droege

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

Wheat and Weedkiller

Below please find my last four entries reprinted here from my NATURAL MEASURES, etc. tab above.  These link entries and accompanying notes appear in order of date of posting, with my most recently posted link (posted today, Feb. 25, 2014) on top:

"Glyphosate + Wheat linked to gluten intolerance, celiac disease, and irritable bowel syndrome" (gmo-awareness.com, February 25, 2014)

GMO Awareness - Be informed!

"Giving Up Gluten" (Living Without article by Christine Boyd, June/July 2010 Issue) - addresses the conditions presently known as "celiac disease" and "gluten sensitivity" in a daughter and her mother, respectively.  What is very clear, to me (Carolyn), is that the ingestion of gluten-containing foods in the U.S. apparently caused both this mother and this daughter severe distress and unwellness, as it also appears to do to me.  I, myself, was tested years ago and found to have a moderate level of antibodies to gliadin.  This meant, at the most fundamental level, that I was then advised to avoid gluten-containing foods.  I have not pursued a more specific diagnosis because I have questions about the genetic engineering of gluten-containing grains, themselves.  It is sufficient for me to be reasonably certain, in the meantime, that something in the gluten molecule here in the U.S. can directly cause internal abrasion of the intestinal lining, a "leaky gut," malabsorption, and subsequent nutritional deficiencies with attendant systemic inflammation.   

Identifying toxic fractions of wheat gluten and their effect on the jejunal mucosa in coeliac disease (GUT - An International Journal of Gastroenterology and Hepatology, 1974, Dec.) - Fascinating study on three toxic fractions of wheat gluten, one of which was found to damage the intestinal mucosal lining in celiac subjects within six hours.  This toxic fraction (made up of small polypeptides) contained neither gluten nor gliadin.  This rapid damage to the mucosal lining was thought to be more characteristic of a direct action on the surface cells (by the toxic fraction) as opposed to an immunological response (p. 931).  This raises the question in my mind of, "Is this 'toxic fraction' actually a component engendered by mankind's tinkering with the genetics of the wheat/gluten grains?" (Carolyn)

Not Just for MCS

Hello, Friends,

Waylaid this week by an aggressive bronchial infection, each series of coughs is an exhausting session -- a rib-racking event that one both hopes for and dreads.  But it's the only way through.

As I do precious little while trying to recover, I have much opportunity to reflect.  It came to me that I would be much happier telling you about natural health supports I come upon along the way.  It occurs to me that, from my long years of more acute chemical sensitivity, I must have so many references of health supports stored up in my brain.  Because these references have simply become part of me, I hadn't thought of pulling them "out of the files," so to speak, to share with you.

But maybe it would be interesting -- and enjoyable -- for me to do just that.

With this new approach, I officially open the doors of this blog to all who suffer physically in any way whatsoever.  Whoever can benefit from this or that natural measure I mention -- please do!

I might not introduce each subsequent post with "Hello, Friends" -- I say this because it might be awkward to do so for a simple nutritional bulletin or other such "strictly information"-type items.  But, always, I think of my readers as friends.  :)

I'll work on putting together some "natural support" information for my next post.  Thank you for tuning in!

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

Trying to Realize

I remember starting this blog in sunny May weather, 2011.  My incentive was high and the words were all stacked up inside of me, ready to be called upon and arranged for posting.  The chemical "burn" of neurological proportions needed to be described for those who had never felt it and who disbelieved that such a chemical sensitivity reaction could occur.

I set about my work, making some headway.  I felt good about this venture.

Lately, I've been getting down in the dumps every time I look at this blog.  I've not been able to work to bring in new readers, because I haven't had any chemical reactivity stories to tell.  I've read those of others lately . . . and I've felt set apart -- left out.

Wait a minute.  "Left out?" I asked myself seriously last night.  "Left out" of chemical sensitivity reactions?  So much so that I have nothing to write about them?  "Do you realize what this means?" I asked myself. 

It's really hard to get this through my head . . . but . . . for the third time or so, I'm reminded that I'm actually doing much, much better.  While I miss that immediate bond with other MCS sufferers which would have inspired me to write and write and write more and more and more about this issue . . .

I've had to shore up my awareness and my gratitude.  I'm getting better.  When will I believe this and actually react to it?   I've been so lonely looking at other people's MCS postings, I haven't been able to work through that and actually embrace the fact that I'm healing from this physiological, neurological nightmare.  Strange to say, I actually think I feel a kind of "survivor guilt." 

So my recovery is dawning on me slowly.  Very, very slowly.  I suspect that, once I can grab hold of the fact that I'm getting seriously better from MCS -- and internalize this as a reality -- only then will I be able to discern what kind of assistance I can best "offer back" to the MCS community through this blog. 

After over two decades of having to give up doing this, and give up doing that, and take time off to let chemical reactions run their course, I've now got all of this leftover sludge in my system.  I'm very disappointed in myself for that.  This probably has a big effect on my ability to rejoice.  So I've set about a walking plan.  I don't care what the experts say -- one walk a day isn't nearly enough.  About six walks a day, for me, would begin to turn things around.  Every so often, I tell myself, "Just put that coat on and get outside."

So I've begun building up my walking length and frequency.  It has to be done.  In rain, in snow, sleet, hail -- whatever.

As I trudge up and down the road, each footstep reminds me that my legs still have power in them, my lung capacity can still expand, and I'm moving forward.

I'm left with questions.  The first one being, "So was the chemical sensitivity actually a peripheral manifestation of Lyme disease?"  I mean this in the same way that one becomes sensitive to sound, light, smells, tastes, and touch when one has a fever . . .   When we're sick, our senses go on red-alert as part of the sickness.  And some sicknesses affect certain bodily systems more than others.

My second question is, "When I took the herbs to wipe out the Lyme, did the herbs also chelate out some additional toxins which had been blocking my ability to recover?"

My third question is, "Did getting well from Lyme and setting everything straight immunologically simply free up my body to put up a stronger defense to common chemicals?"

All of this having been said, I realize I'm not equipped to pronounce on these answers.

These questions will probably be with me always.  I drop them off here in order to inspire both reflection and hope in those who are still suffering in a big way with MCS, and in those who are trying their best to help them.

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

More and More

After beginning the day very energetically, I underwent a global slowdown when I clonked my head hard on a tile wall this afternoon while cleaning.  But I'm going to work my way through this post to capture some more cogent thoughts I'd had earlier today.

I spent my morning in a department store.  When chemical sensitivity mushroomed in my life, this kind of thing became a once-a-year event, if at all.  It was hot and dry inside, for sure, but there was a profound difference in my reactivity to scents and to the natural gas heating.  Even if a migraine were, in fact, going to happen later this day or two days from now (this is now impossible to discern, given that I clunked my head and a headache would be a natural thing), I can still report here that, thus far, my reactivity to synthetic scents has already been profoundly different this day from what it would have been, under similar conditions, in previous years.

And now I'm going to walk into some comparatively uncharted territory in reflections on chemical sensitivity  . . .

I'd like to talk about memory.  While many scents still remain immediately aversive to me and I instinctively pull away from them, they're not "getting in," systemically speaking, as they had been accustomed to doing.  Those few seconds or minutes of my unwanted exposure to them have not been doing the neurological and inflammatory damage to me that they used to do.  I'm not getting that unmistakable neurological buzz and pulsing around my forehead, nose, and eye sockets.  I'm not getting that systemically sickened, "sideways" feeling.  I'm walking through these scents, sniffing them, and often coming away "okay."

And, sometimes -- this is the thing that I wondered if I'd ever be able to say again -- I'm enjoying them.  Now that (pause of speechlessness) - that is something.

Can you believe this?

I do, because I'm living it.  It's incredible.  There's an amazing amount of "normal" coming back to me.  And with it comes . . .

"Snow flurries" of memory.  Those tiny little pieces of moments, days, seasons, and years that make up a lifetime.  Little "snowflakes" of this or that day, or a familiar kind of day, or "a day just like today," or a "season that felt so much like this" converge upon me as I drive along on various errands -- and I'm amazed at how very much memory can just shower a multiplicity of feelings and impressions upon you all at once.

Makes a person want to cry, partially with joy, partially with a bittersweet sadness -- because there's just so much there.  I have to believe that these cascades of memory are enabled by my increasing ability to tolerate, specifically, chemical fragrances.  Many of which were once a part of my daily life. 

When you're chemically sensitive, huge pieces of that "scent aspect" of life get tossed aside by medical necessity.  I'm now realizing how very much this deprivation of familiar old types of scents can impede the normal flow of memory and paralyze one's sense of continuity.  You realize what you've missed, and just how much you've missed it, often only when it returns.  [If that "often only" didn't make perfect sense, please excuse it because I can't, at the moment with my thick-feeling skull, come up with an alternate word combination.]

I personally think that this return of "familiar memory" in so many infinitesimal bits and pieces, this progressive filling in of the empty places of one's own spirit, must also have a strengthening effect upon the neurology of the brain itself.  This, in turn, would further assist the brain to return to a more normal "baseline" of reactivity to chemicals.  Basically, the more you recover, the more you recover.

If that makes sense.    :)     
 

While Feeling Like Eeyore . . .

If I'm truly honest with myself, I'm much more comfortable, in my writing here, with no salutation and no signature line.  I'd prefer to jump right in and, when I'm done writing, just be done.  So here we go:
 
When something happens to hurt me very badly, emotionally, I usually don't want to go back to the person who hurt me and say, "Look, this really hurt."  I'd rather write about it in a nonpersonal way and send it out to the world on the next breeze, so to speak . . . keeping forgiveness in my heart without a lot of emotionalism and fuss.  But -- and this is an important "but" -- I have to satisfactorily make my point when I speak of the hurt -- to whomever.  Clarifying my point, or points, to myself and others -- this is a big thing with me.  Because then, after I've worked it all out in this way, I'll have peace.

It was thus that I began this blog.  I had so many points stored up from so many instances of being patronized, screamed at, flat-out disbelieved, avoided, and picked apart verbally over my chemical sensitivity . . . I had to make those points.  I had to state them, once and for all.  In my earliest pieces, I think I really did that.

The method worked.  I realize there are probably hundreds of cogent points that one can make about the reality of chemical sensitivity; however, I believe I truly addressed the ones that meant the most to me, personally.  I backed up my points with the numerous articles in the tabs up above.

On a cognitive level, this relaxed things.  I no longer had that burning "edge" to state this or that in precisely this or that way to ensure maximum comprehension.

Then I got sick with Lyme and I had no cognitive "edge" at all.  Things were over the top in a brand new way, with swollen legs and feet.  I got the message loud and clear that something microbial was out to annihilate me.

Although the swelling has greatly lessened since the spring and summer, I still have it.  My health feels pummeled.  I get frequent whiffs of hopelessness -- and then I raise my head again.   

Which is why it's so very strange that now, of all times, when I feel completely drained and utterly defeated in so many ways, my chemical sensitivity is still lessening to a noticeable degree. 

I've wondered if, perhaps, the collection of herbal drops that I took steadily for a month or so for the Lyme actually chelated out some serious toxins that had been buried deep in my body.  It was after those herbal treatments that the improvement in my chemical sensitivity really skyrocketed.

Or was it that the chemical sensitivity, itself, had been instigated by chronic Lyme?

I know one thing:  My emotional tenor has not felt this low in decades.  That puts theories of "So you lessened your chemical sensitivity with a more optimistic outlook!" to rest.  I haven't felt optimistic at all.  I've felt gloomy, horrible.  I've felt completely unwanted as a writer, for one thing.  I don't even know why I'm writing this.  It's the equivalent of Eeyore grabbing pen and pad.

Perhaps writing this will turn out to have been "good for me" and -- this would be nice if only it could be so, which I doubt, but let's give it a chance -- for other people, too.