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.