I had a visit to my naturopath today and the results were astounding! I am highly intolerant to everything dairy, eggs and almonds. I thought for sure he was going to come back and tell me I had a gluten intolerance, because there is such an emphasis on that allergy lately. Not too many people focus or write books based on dairy allergies. Yes, there is the lactose intolerant issue that gets the hype, but this is different. So many things are made with dairy products! My favorite of these would be milk chocolate. Funny enough, I didn’t even think of that being “off the list” even though it has the word milk in it. So what’s the first thing I do after returning from the doctors office learning that dairy is now my nemesis? I google “dairy free chocolate” and find the most magnificent shop in Oregon that sells nothing but dairy free chocolate. I feel the mothership calling me home…
Top Ten Signs You’re Getting Older May 23, 2009
I recently woke up with an injury—completely sore shoulder and could barely turn my head! This inspired me to compile a list of the top ten signs your getting older…Enjoy!
10. You read that there’s a sale on ground beef at the local grocery store and you actually tell someone about it.
9. You pray for the stomach flu, so that you can lose that last 5 pounds you can’t get rid of.
8. You no longer need a magnifying mirror to see your pores.
7. You start including physical ailments in your annual Christmas letter.
6. You recognize the songs on Muzak while at the grocery store and actually sing along.
5. You can relate to the Shoe Box Greeting Card character Maxine’s HOT FLASHES, drooping body parts and general grumpiness.
4. Your fallen body parts start developing theme songs like “Lord Lift us Up Where We belong” and “Drop it Like it’s Hot”
3. You read the 10 day forecast online and actually get excited because weather is now very important to you.
2. You ask your teen how its possible for Soulja boy to “Kiss me through the phone”.
1. You wake up with an injury you didn’t have the night before.
Your invited… May 8, 2009
I love a good party, just as much as the next gal…but this is taking it a tad far. Chicken pox is a somewhat common occurrence and it wasn’t until the 90’s that we had a vaccination for it. In the good old days kids got the pox and dealt with it. We wanted to scratch and sometimes we did and we have the scars to prove it. Well, now they have a vaccine and children everywhere are spared the embarrassment and inconvenience that only a good case of the chicken pox can provide. You don’t want to get this disease when you are older, because it can be very harmful and sometimes even deadly. Somewhere in suburbia a group of mothers decided that it was better to get the disease and be immune for life, rather than vaccinate and take a chance on getting a mild case in later years. There solution? Hold a chicken pox party. Johnny has the pox? Send him over! Invite your friends! Everyone will be infected before you know it! That’s one evite I would have to ignore.
Gonna have to face it—your addicted to technology! May 7, 2009
Since when have we lost all ability to control our actions? Are we so weak that the mere glimpse of a computer screen renders us helpless to its charm? Can we go even 1 hour without technology interrupting our thought processes? What have you done today to move one more step toward technology addiction?
Here are some signs that you may have a problem:
[1] You are at home. You are upstairs and your spouse is downstairs. You decide to text them instead of hollering over the banister when you need to tell them something.
[2] You find out you are expecting a child. You log onto Twitter to alert your “followers” before calling your family.
[3] Your battery in your cell phone dies and you actually start crying b/c your charger is nowhere in sight.
[4] You take the day off of work to attend a MLB game and update your status on FB at the top of every inning.
[5] You suffer from delusions of grandeur when contemplating whether you can take on Ashton Kutcher on Twitter.
[6] You can now text without even looking at the phone.
[7] You have disowned or are temporarily ignoring family members who haven’t joined FB.
[8] Google is your main source of information for EVERYTHING.
[9] You justify the hours you spend on your computer as “work”, when really you are pimping your FB page.
[10] You can’t remember the last real conversation you had, that did not involve emoticons, status updates and tagged photos.
The problem is that everything we do now always comes back to the computer. We receive communication from friends, family, co-workers and our children’s teachers and coaches via email. We join organizations, sign up for little league and donate to our church via the internet. We don’t have time to go to the mall so we window shop online and order there too.
Technology will most likely play a key role in our daily lives from here on out, but it doesn’t have to rule us. So if you find yourself being drawn into the abyss that is the internet—set a time limit, take a break and most importantly find someone you love and have a face-to-face good ol’ fashioned conversation, no keyboard necessary.
Cyber-chondriac May 7, 2009
Are you a cyberchondriac? Do you even know what this means? Well, if you’re a hypochondriac [a person who worries or talks excessively about his/her health] then you might have an inkling of what I’m talking about. There is a new craze sweeping the web-nation. If a sniffle or achy joint send you directly to the internet to assess your symptoms, you might be a cyberchondriac. I’ve been known to fall prey to the temptation of the internet. They make it easy for you to self diagnose. You simply check off the symptoms you are feeling and then it “spits” out all the possible diseases with the corresponding symptoms. A case of eczema can send you into complete panic when you find out it could be anything from a fungus to a full-blown shingles outbreak. Bouts of constipation mixed with abdominal distention can be signs that you need more fiber or are having congestive heart failure. So if you are the kind of person that worries too much or tend to obsess over medical conditions–my prescription for you is to stay away from all online symptom checkers, take a “chill” pill and call a doctor for a more accurate assessment.
Barely there Barista wear April 27, 2009
I live in the coffee capital of the U.S. We are known to be coffee drinkers and we like it that way. I personally don’t drink coffee, but am surrounded by coffee lovers. I quite like the smell, just not the taste. Because we are a city that loves coffee, there are coffee huts on every corner [practically]. One day, I was driving home from running some errands and stopped at a red light. My eyes wandered while sitting there and stopped abruptly on a sign in front of a coffee hut. It read “Pasties MWF”. I thought to myself, surely they misspelled pastries, right? Then I remembered all the reports I heard on talk radio about bikini coffee huts and lingerie coffee huts. I thought for sure the Pasties would be illegal. Well, I have my resources in the police department and asked about the legality of baring your breasts in public. I was told that it is not illegal to show your breasts as long as your nipples and areola are covered. My chin dropped to the floor, my eyes had glazed over and I was in complete shock!!! So the sign must not be a mistake, there are actually topless baristas. What is this world coming to? According to city ordinace they are not in violation of any laws as long as they wear shoes. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather have my barista barefoot and fully clothed.
Everything works out in the End Part 3 April 27, 2009
As you can see from my recent posts, I have become quite obsessed with my BM’s or lack thereof. After my test that showed slow motility, the doctor wanted to rule out anything horrible and ordered a CT. I have never had one, but knew I would be drinking something disgusting in order for them to see my insides more clearly. I went to the radiology department and picked up not one, but two bottles of the liquid that resembled curdled milk and was vanilla flavored. The following morning I woke up and turned on the TV in order to distract myself from the impending consumption of total yuckiness. I swallowed the entire contents of bottle 1 in about 10 minutes. I had to wait another hour for bottle 2. By the way, the radiology receptionist warned me the day before that the drinks could cause explosive diarrhea. That’s all I could think of the entire time I was gulping them down, trying to hold my breath and keep from gagging repeatedly. I drove to the hospital and drank the 2nd bottle in the parking lot. I promptly wiped my mouth, put on my lip gloss and grabbed some chewing gum. I kept hearing the words “explosive diarrhea” in my head while I waited to check in at the hospital, sat in the waiting room in radiology and while changing out of my clothes into my lovely generic hospital gown. I came prepared. I put on the biggest maxi-pad I could find [just in case I didn't make it the porcelain receptacle] and mentally mapped the location of every bathroom I passed from the entrance to the hospital all the way to the CT scanning room.
Once I was resting comfortably on the CT table, the lovely techs prepared me for what would happen. They placed a wedge underneath my legs, and once in place I promptly asked “Am I here for a CT or a pelvic exam” Once I was completely contorted so they could get a good view of my bowels with the scanner, I would be receiving an IV in my right arm. This is where they would inject the iodine. The injection would enter my veins and give me a “hot flash” feeling and possibly an “oops, I wet my pants” feeling. Both of these feelings came to pass. I did indeed feel the wave of heat crossover my body and felt fortunate that I was a packing a super-sized maxi pad when I felt like I wet myself. Luckily, that was just a feeling and it didn’t actually happen. Afterwards, I returned to my dressing room, donned my clothes and was on my merry way. It would be approximately a week before I received my results. I was wrong in assuming that they would be calling me with the results. I returned from a Friday night out with the family and checked the mail only to find a letter stating [and I quote] ” CAT scan of your bowels is normal. There is a benign liver lesion that needs a follow up ultrasound in 3 months to confirm”. My question was, to confirm what? The fact that it was a benign liver lesion or that it was something else? The actual test document had a bunch of medical jargon that they translated into layman’s terms so that they could be understood. That same document also stated that my colon was FOS. I know what your thinking…but Igoogled it and it’s medical slang for “full of stool”…not what you were thinking.
This was shocking! Not that I was full of stool, but that now I not only had a motility issue, but that I was sporting a tumor roughly 1 inch by 1/2 an inch. I like to accessorize as much as the next gal, but this was taking it a bit far. So I found this out on a Friday but couldn’t reach the doctor until the following Tuesday. I was not to happy about that. In the meantime, I spent hours googling “hemangioma” and reading what could cause them, what the implications were and what I could do to rid myself of this THING. Even though they gave this tumor a name and said it was benign they aren’t 100% sure, thus the follow up sonogram.
Meanwhile back at slow motility land I wanted to solve the big mystery of why I was so slow. So I asked for the help of my local naturopath who specializes in IBS. For those of you who don’t know what IBS is, its what they call any bowel issue that they can’t otherwise categorize. I won’t bore you with the details of our 1 hour office visit, but it was encouraging to talk to someone who cared and also wanted to solve the mystery. Almost $900 later I exited the dr’s office to get my blood drawn [food allergy panel] and was given a take home test. This take home test was like any other I have had. It was basically a poo test.
Here’s how it works:
You put on your rubber gloves. Take the french fry paper dish in hand, squat and fill. Once the tray is filled with the specimen, you take out three vials containing toxic fluids. You remove each lid and collect the sample. Each lid has a “pooper scooper” on the end to make the collection more user-friendly. Once you have put the sample in the container you secure the lid in place and shake it for 30 seconds. You are free to put the remaining sample matter down the toilet and dispose of the french fry tray [that's just my silly nickname for it.] After securing the poo in the vials you place them in a biohazard bag, fill out the test form and promptly refrigerate your poo until the FedEx man comes to pick it up the following day. That was a fun appointment to make. When the FedEx customer service person asked me how much my package weighed I almost lost it on the phone. I just told her under a pound [insert giggles here].
Well, this should be about it on the poo talk, unless my test results come back and there is something interesting to share. As for my liver tumor…my sonogram isn’t for a month or so. I am optimistic, that it is indeed benign, because all other tests are normal. Like I always say, everything works out in the end!
Everything Works out in the End – Part 2 April 5, 2009
So it was time for a test from the GI doctor. She decided on what’s called a Sitz Marker test. Basically you swallow a pill and then they xray you to track it through your system. I was sent directly to the radiology lab where I explained to the front desk what test I was told to take. They weren’t familiar with it and had to refer to Charlie [in the back] on what exactly that meant. He knew exactly what it was, they just didn’t have the magic pill for me to take. They sent for it and once it arrived I was taken to the back. Once you go behind the entrance they hand you some scrubs and lead you to a changing room. This room has a pull curtain, mirror, a bench and a locker for your valuables. There were also white spa robes available. This was quite possibly the nicest radiology department I had been to. Usually they throw you a hospital gown and say remove all your clothes and we’ll meet you down the hall. [NICE!] I take my time changing and folding my clothes and placing everything inside my locker. I proceed out of the dressing room to the waiting area. It has several chairs arranged next to a mini waterfall and a basket full of magazines. If you were there for an MRI you also had a music playlist to choose from. I was just there for a regular old x-ray so…I got nothing. As I sat there waiting to be called back, I noticed how spa-like this whole set up was. When Charlie came back to get me, I asked if I was here for an x-ray or a facial. Now I’m thinking that would be a great set-up for people when coming to the doctor. A combined facility where you could knock out a mammogram and get a pedicure while you are there. Before I can get the x-ray I have to swallow a small capsule. Inside this capsule are 24 markers. The x-ray can pick them up and track their movement [or lack of] during my digestion process. The bottom line of the test is to see how long it takes them to go from beginning to end [literally]. I have one baseline x-ray and then swallow the pill and have a 2nd x-ray. Then I have to come back in 24 hours for another and then every other day until the 7th day for a total of 6 x-rays of my abdomen. On each subsequent visit, Bill took my x-rays. He was a nice guy and we shared a few laughs. In between him confirming that I was indeed “backed up” or “full of poo.” This test took up a lot of my time and energy over the course of a week and all for an obvious conclusion! The test results: “You have slow motility”. Well guess what you could have saved yourself the 100’s if not 1,000’s of dollars and I could have simply told you that I was constipated. Oh yeah, I DID!!! So, now I’m back where I started. The GI’s conclusion…take a drug. Her assistant told me that was the recommended follow-up. Take a pill, go potty—the end. I told her that I didn’t want to add another drug to my repertoire. The assistant was seemingly shocked at my refusal for drugs and said “one moment, please.” The line picked up again and it was the doctor. She bluntly asked “why are you afraid of drugs?” I explained to her that I am in my 30’s and completely healthy [minus the thyroid thing] and didn’t want to take a drug until I’m 99 just to go to the bathroom. This made complete sense to me. Why did the doctor just want to throw another medication at me and be done. What was the real underlying issue to my lack of “movements?” Stay tuned to Part 3
Everything works out in the end… March 26, 2009
That’s what everyone always says, right? One can only hope! Everyone tells you having kids change your life. They are of course referring to all the time spent caring for the kids daily needs. What they don’t tell you, is how it will change your body. There’s the standard bloating, joint pain and stretch marks, but what about after the kids are out and the initial shock of their arrival subsides and you are left with the aftermath. Body parts have been relocated. Your once ample bossom has taken on a life of its own and decided that life below the equator is where they want to be. Due to multiple pregnancies your feet are as wide as Fred Flinstone and, if need be, you could bring your minvan to an abrupt stop using only your feet. There are also the randomly patterned bald spots on your once plentiful scalp. You no longer have the perfect head of hair and you won’t be starring in a Pantene commercial anytime soon, but you graciously hold onto what little hair remains. You count your blessings and rejoice that you are no where near a comb over. For me the biggest post-partum issue I had was my thyroid calling it quits. This beast of a treatable disease comes with its own set of problems: weight gain, sleeping issues, brittle hair, foggy brain, and the MOTHER of them all—CONSTIPATION!! I know its one topic that does not get a lot of time in the light of day and most people don’t enjoy discussing it. In other words, the poo-poo is taboo! [Sorry, I couldn't resist a little rhyming potty talk.] If your not affected by this issue, you probably are scoffing at this even as you read this. If you are affected by this you know how obsessive one can become. You count fiber grams, you ingest ungodly amounts of water, you exercise and you mentally track every “movement”. You have followed every rule to the letter and still you are bloated to the point of taking a pregnancy test and you decide it’s time to make an appointment with a GI doctor. I was nervous the night before my appointment and was happy to have been referred to a female doctor. It’s one thing to discuss this type of thing with your husband or your best friend, but to have to rattle off your list of symptoms to a complete stranger–NO THANKS! My blood pressure was elevated, my hands clammy and hives began to break out on my neck and chest. One by one I discussed every last symptom and detail of my intestinal history. Upon completion, she did a physical examination and concluded that she needed to run some tests…stay tuned for Potty Talk–Part 2…
Here I grow AGAIN! February 24, 2009
A person reaches a certain age and things begin to move and change and not necessarily for the better. If you haven’t experienced these changes yet, well—GOOD FOR YOU—but some of us are not so lucky.
One morning I was washing my face and moisturizing in preparation for the daily application of powder foundation which covers up the ever expanding collection of age spots, freckles and broken blood vessels that I seem to be collecting–just like I collected stickers back in the eighties. You gotta love those days when puffy and pickle scented scratch ‘n sniff stickers were all you were concerned about. So, where was I? Ah, yes–washing my face…then I lean in to do the all important close up inspection of any stray eyebrows that have managed to grow back since my last examination. And what to my wondering eyes should appear? Well, it wasn’t St. Nick, more like St. Hairy and it wasn’t growing in a “normal” location. I seriously had a hair in the middle of my forehead. Now, granted it wasn’t black or even dark brown. It was blonde, but nonetheless in the middle of my forehead. Where do these rogue hairs come from and why must they grow on my body? I’m sure there is a physiological reason why hair grows in places we don’t want it too and disappears from places that we prefer it to stay. However, this does not make one feel better about it growing in the first place. Like most situations in my life, I handle the stress [or at least attempt to] with humor. Like when I breastfed 3 kids and my bossom decided to fall and not get back up. The girls had a theme song – “Lord lift us up where we belong”. I think rogue hairs deserve the same opportunity. Therefore, I declare any hair growing in the wrong place at anytime deserves an altered version of Whitesnake’s “Here I go Again”! Please read below and sing it loud, sing it proud and the next time you find a hair where it shouldn’t be, maybe you will laugh a little and possibly sing the theme song — “Here I Grow Again”!!!!
I dont know where Im growing
But, I sure know where Ive been
Hanging on to follicles
In the hairs of yesterday
An Ive made up my mind,
I aint wasting no more time
But, here I grow again
Here I grow again
Tho I keep searching for a place to grow,
I never seem to find what Im looking for
Oh lord, I pray
You give me strength to carry on,
cos I know what it means
To grow along the lonely hair of dreams
An here I grow again on my own
Goin down the only follicle Ive ever known,
Like a drifter I was born to grow alone
An Ive made up my mind
I aint wasting no more time
Im just another hair in need of rescue,
Waiting on tweezer’s sweet charity
An Im gonna hold on
For the rest of my days,
cos I know what it means
To grow along the lonely hair of dreams
An here I grow again on my own
Goin down the only follicle Ive ever known,
Like a drifter I was born to grow alone
An Ive made up my mind
I aint wasting no more time
But, here I grow again,
Here I grow again,
Here I grow again,
Here I grow…
