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…
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.
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…
Do you see what I see? November 30, 2008
I was having a few female problems. My “Aunt Flo” was visiting 2-3 times a month and she was only welcome once a month to confirm that I indeed was not pregnant and could live another 28 days in peace. In order to rule out any BAD things that might be causing these extra visits they ordered a test of my uterus. It’s called a sonohystogram. Instead of just telling you in plain English what it is, I thought I would explain to you the procedure from my point of view. I walk into a sterile room with a medical table and a sonogram machine in plain site. Keep in mind the when you walk into this tiny room the bed is directly in front of you. Once you are lying down your “privates” will be facing the doorway [NICE-who thought of this layout? Would it have killed them to angle the bed or provide some kind of protection for your HOO-HOO from the outside world?] The technician walked me back and gave me the standard issue gown and said “please remove all your clothing and put this on”. Being the good patient that I am, I obeyed and waited on the table for her to return. She positioned me just right on the table as I placed my feet into the stirrups and she positioned my pelvis in a more tilted position by inserting a pillow wedge underneath my low back. So my legs are spread, my pelvis is tilted and we are awaiting the doctors arrival, for what is sure to be a wonderful time [insert sarcasm here]. Luckily, the door leading into this tiny room has a secret code on the doorknob so no one walks in accidentally and is surprised to see my other half. The doctor surprises us somewhat by opening the door abruptly after entering the secret digits. We must not have been able to hear him over the dull buzzing of the flourescent lights, that I’m sure were doing nothing for the public image of my nether regions. He walks in and introduces himself and offers up his hand to shake mine. I don’t remember what he said his name was but it didn’t matter all I could think was—he just saw my vajayjay! He proceeds to explain to me how he is going to enter a long tube up through my hoo-haa and into my uterus via the cervix and inflate my uterus with water. Then the lovely technician will perform a vaginal sonogram to ensure me and the radiologist that I indeed have no polyps, masses or other structural malformations in my uterus that would cause my current issues. Even after having 3 children, this is one of the most humiliating yet humorous adventures I have endured. Before I know it, I’m all done and upon standing I feel a mad rush of fluid, like my water is breaking. The technician ensures me that all is well and that’s just the gallon [exaggeration] of fluid leaving. Fortunately, all was well and as it turns out I was just experiencing what most woman don’t start until their late 30’s early 40’s—PERIMENOPAUSE. The kicker to this whole ordeal was getting a mammogram the next week and passing the sonohystogram technician in the hallway of the Breast Center. She stopped and stared at me quizically. I said “hi” having recognized the woman who invaded my privacy a week prior. She contemplated where she knew me from and I quickly put her out of her misery. I said “It’s okay. You probably don’t recognize me with my clothes on.” I quickly moved to the waiting room and prepared myself for the squishing I was about to brave.
Snap, Crackle, Pop November 30, 2008
I have the usual aches and pains of a 30 something, I guess. I definitely don’t feel like I did when I was in my 20’s or even my early teens. I guess it’s to be expected, but in hopes of a brighter and more comfortable future I decided to investigate a practice known to many of you as Chiropractic care. When I think of it I picture lots of cracking, twisting and blunt force trauma imposed to create a more alligned ME. I was somewhat skeptical of it’s benefits for me and was nervous at the thought of someone manipulating my spine in such a way that caused loud cracking sounds to radiate from the life center that is my spine. The spine is a very crucial part of life without it we would at the very least live a horizontal life and be a little mushy in the middle. I drove 45 minutes away on a recommendation for a certain Wellness Center. Upon arrival I filled out the usual suspects [form after form after form]. I flashed my insurance card and patiently awaited the assistant to take me back to the dreaded cracking center. She asked me to disrobe from the waist up and put on a cloth gown. Once she returned she used some scanning mechanism on me to measure my electrical current and the amount of heat my spine was generating. Who knew I was so energetic. Upon finding out my hot spots and electrical outbursts centers they could better treat me. They showed me a chart of the vertebrae and how the trouble spots were related to certain organs and other potential problems. It all seemed pretty accurate as far as symptoms I had been experiencing. Then it was time for the all important “adjustment”. He felt around my back and shoulders and neck and told me what he was feeling. He manipulated my back and hips and spine in such a way that I felt helpless and my fate was literally in his hands. The popping sound I heard from both my back and neck were extremely hard to hear. I don’t consider myself to be too sensitive, especially since I regularly pop just about everything on my body and not always on purpose. When he was done I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I think I was reacting to the palpable fear that was proliferated each time I heard a cracking noise. I just don’t believe that our bodies were made to be maneuvered in this way on a regular basis. I lamented over my visit the entire way home. I was flushed, still nervous and already worried about my next visit. It took me the entire 45 minute ride home to realize that I was in the drivers seat and I didn’t have to go back if I didn’t want to, and I DID NOT!! I decided to pick up the phone and cancel my 2nd appointment shortly after I arrived home. The longer I waited the more anxious it would make me and I was, for whatever reason, nervous to call and cancel. I explained that that whole “snap, crackle, pop” thing that happened FREAKED me out and I had no desire to ever go through that again. They did try and talk me into trying it again and having a different kind of ajustment. I politely declined and hurried off the phone. There has got to be a better way to maintain wellness and fine my Happy Place. Acupuncture…HERE I COME!!
Holy Moley! November 12, 2008
Gone are the days of rubbing Crisco or Baby Oil all over your body, while soaking in the sun and getting burned to a crisp. Now there is SPF everywhere we turn. We have it in our powdered AND liquid makeup products, our moisturizers, our lip balms and of course our regular sunscreen products. I for one, stay out of the sun. when I was a child we weren’t as ultra-aware as today’s generation. So I joined the sun-goddesses and lathered up and burned one too many times back in the day. I have never been able to tan without gaining a whole new collection of freckles, speckled across my entire body. In high school I learned to stay out of the sun or at least protect myself accordingly. Experts agree that most sun damage occurs by the time we reach 18. Well, I am far past 18 and my dermatologists says that my sun damage is still catching up with me from my youth. That’s encouraging! I can at least work at not accumulating any more damage now that I’m not a teen. I visit my dermatologists annually for my full-body skin check. There is nothing more humbling than standing naked in a sterile white room with nothing but a paper gown and a full-length mirror in plain sight. Did I mention I also have a mole between my butt cheeks? Yeah, that’s attractive! So I have to nonchalantly stand there while my buttocks is spread for a full-mole-viewing. It’s over before I know it and then it’s on to questions and concerns about changing mole patterns on the canvas that is my skin. I told her I had several concerns about 3 new mole-like additions. She examined them closely with her light-up magnifying glass and loudly proclaimed. Those aren’t moles—they’re AGE SPOTS!! [insert dramatic music here]. Yes, you heard right, AGE SPOTS! Please keep in mind that I am not even 40 yet. Oh, and those large spots on your face that you thought went rogue and joined forces with other freckles to make SUPER FRECKLES—Yeah they’re AGE SPOTS too!! So needless to say, I will be receiving a full laser resurfacing of my face in the not too distant future. Until then, in the immortal words of Shakespeare I stare down my age spots in the mirror and proclaim “Out Damn’d Spot”.
Beauty is in the Eye of the Needle November 12, 2008
Beauty products have come a long way in the last 100 years. What used to be topical is now injectable [i.e. Restylane and Botox]. Say goodbye to emotion-filled faces because Botox paralyzes your facial muscles. Restylane is a filler that helps those sunken in areas or ones you would like to make more plump. It’s used in lip augmentation, filling in wrinkled areas, and for general plumping of areas of the face.
Normal moisturizer is so last year because now everything has added ingredients. These ingredients can treat and prevent age spots, wrinkles, and so much more. They are less invasive than the injectables but promise similar results without the big price tag.
There is one procedure that I find particularly interesting – permanent makeup. According to Wikipedia’s definition it “employs tattoos (permanent pigmentation of the dermis) as a means of producing designs that resemble makeup” .
This may not be a bad idea for lipstick or eyeliner. However, as with any permanent solution you should check the references of your tattoo artist. I have never given this permanent solution any thought until recently when I was at a red light. The car in front of me had an advertisement splashed across the back of their minivan saying “Ask me about permanent tattoo makeup”! I don’t know about you, but if I decide to find a permanent solution for eyeliner or lipstick, I will not be asking the elderly gentleman in the minivan who moonlights as a makeup tattoo artist.
