One bite at a time (by the numbers)

The recommended method for eating an elephant, it turns out, is the best way to get other projects done.

I want to call 1000 people this election season, and I want to call them sooner rather than later, but making 20 calls at a time can be wearying in certain states (I get it, some swing states are getting a lot of calls, but all of those hang ups and wrong numbers can be a little disheartening). I cannot make 20 calls every few days, but I can make ten calls every week day. That's what I did last week, and now I'm up to 180 calls. Hell yes. 820 more to go, and I can do it.

I've averaged 1000 transcribed words of my saga every weekday. That was A LOT when I embarked on this in December, and because of numerous appointments in May, I missed a few days. I didn't panic--no one is tapping their foot waiting for me to finish this--but I happened to have some time on my hands yesterday, so even though it was a weekend, I transcribed a lot more than usual. And then this morning, even though it's still a weekend, I transcribed a little more. Which is all to say that the eight installment, Factor of Loss, is now transcribed (and commented to hell, high heavens, and back), and the whole saga--literally and figuratively--is up to 190,285 words. 

Did I mention that this means I'm halfway through the installments?

My note-taking, which had been staring at me for almost a year, finally began in earnest a few weeks ago, and now I have stack of note cards from regular sessions of reviewing notes and "making" five notes a day. It's gratifying to see the pile increasing, even as I'm learning some disturbing things, in no small part about myself. But that's a post for another time.

And finally, I had my annual physical this week. My doctor is very pleased with my progress. It was humbling to hear that many people who had my diagnosis of cancer aren't doing as well as I am two years out (in case I didn't mention it, I'm clean as a whistle--but don't throw the party for another three years). I credit this to my diet (you can insert everything you want to about relative privilege--you wouldn't be wrong, and that's infuriating). That seems to also be having an effect on other health metrics, particularly my cholesterol. (The fact that a long-time vegan and practically eternal vegetarian can have a cholesterol issue should be the only evidence you need that there is only so much you can control.) I've brought it down a lot with legumes, whole grains, produce, nuts, and negligible amounts of refined sugar and ultra-processed foods--but apparently I've still got a little bit of wiggle room.

I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I'd like to be *done* with certain things so I can move on. But to what? Well, part of why I embarked on these journeys is to answer that question, and it's probably better that I take my time answering it.

Deb in the City

The gift that keeps on giving (Day 88)

The scan I had last week showed that none of the bones in my foot were broken. Therefore, I could stick to the plan to go to physical therapy and get a holistic evaluation that dealt with my multifidus muscle, my SI joint, my hip, and my foot.

I felt "seen" when we did the strength exam and the PT felt the pop in my right hip as he pressed on my knee. I felt discomfort when he touched the muscles on my right hip and declared the presence of my knots, but fortunately, that part of the exam was over and he knew what was going on.

Both my hip discomfort--that irritating feeling like my hip needs to go back into the socket, but it isn't dislocated--and my foot pain are due to the aftereffects of chemotherapy, and I also got the impression that the weakness of my low, low back was as well, if only as an indirect effect (hips are connected to backs, in case you didn't know). There is nothing to be done about my slipped disc, but fortunately it's very mild and can be mitigated with exercise. 

The PT said "core strength, core strength, core strength" twice--as long as it wasn't sit ups or crunches. I'm going to, if not pat myself on the back, indulge in a bit of gratitude that my instincts have kept me away from those exercises for several years because of other issues I have. He said the yoga and Pilates probably helped keep me with as much function as I have now (but probably because of the stretching). I have a list of stretches and strength exercises to perform for the next two weeks, and then we'll talk again. 

Let's agree this isn't the worst side effect in the world, and let's also agree that I would have gone through with chemotherapy even if I had been told this would be a side effect. But if I had been told this could be a side effect, I might have planned accordingly. Say, not pushing so hard to go on long walks, and making sure to do regular stretches, and maybe just knowing that I was going to need to consult a physical therapist. 

I'm bitter about this because, as usual, I blamed myself for the foot pain, which ended up indirectly leading to a costly event, but *it wasn't my fault*. Maybe that's what I really wish my oncologist had told me: there's going to be weird things that happen to the rest of your body as a result of the chemotherapy, so be gentle with yourself, physically and mentally.

Yeah, that would have been nice.

Deb in the City

One way to get you (Day 71)

Last week, as I was making a hardboiled egg for my son, I remarked to my husband that before I would have felt a pang of jealousy that other people in my family could eat a compact source of protein while I could not; eggs are just not my friend. My husband wanted to know just how bad it was, and to everything I said, he replied that might be solved by getting rid of the egg yolk. 

He finally agreed to go to the nutritionfacts.org website, and he was probably most disturbed by the video about egg health claims and the USDA. Basically, eggs are so unhealthy that the USDA won't let you say they are at all if you want to use any federal money for your ad campaign. You can't even say they're nutritious.

My husband has been avoiding eggs since then, but I'm wondering why I thought they were healthy at all. Because I remember reading that they were...in women's interests magazines, in statements by personal trainers, registered dieticians, and maybe even some doctors. Yeah...I'm sure none of those people were paid for their statements. 

Deb in the City

Maybe we really should just be listening to our bodies (Day 58)

I think about health topics more than I want to. To paraphrase someone else, I could have learned three foreign languages in all of the time I've spent thinking about, reading about, agonizing over, and trying to practice good nutrition and exercise. I did make a big breakthrough in my thinking and practice of exercise last year, and I've felt better since then, but I admit that food continues to wear me down. This is due in large part to my food sensitivities, but that's not all.

I consider myself mostly immune to trends around eating. Frankly, when my sensitivities have limited me as much as they have, I don't have room to play. The only "choice" I'm making these days is not eating meat, and since that's been the case since I was sixteen (other than the period I was bullied by my college boyfriend), I'm not apologizing. Since it's accepted that eating meat does a lot of really bad things to you, yeah, I don't feel like I'm being indulgent. I'm a vegetarian because I want to be; I'm a vegan because eggs and dairy make me ill, and I can't eat wheat or soy because those set me back for a week.

And it's not just food sensitivities--there is nothing like an experience of cancer, particularly colon cancer, to make you sensitive about your diet. I am never consuming alcohol again, and since I've never liked it in the first place, why should I? I go out of my way to eat legumes and whole grains as well as fruits and vegetables--and nuts and seeds--and avoid coconut products and refined sugar--because of all of the evidence around mortality, cancer, and general health. It's not my fault I developed cancer--my diet was still pretty good by modern American standards--but I think it's understandable why I prioritize things that give me a better chance of living longer.

So my behavior isn't about trends--with the exception of time restricted eating. That was something recommended to me by my acupuncturist a few years ago, and all of the research I did on it showed no ill effects. In fact, it was mentioned as one of the only effective "dieting" strategies, and it also is said to good things for blood sugar and cholesterol. What was the harm? I mean, other than the fact that I can't eat large meals (thanks to a very small but manageable hernia between my stomach and duodenum), and that being hungry at night was sometimes just depressing?

I don't know what or why, but today the American Heart Association released results of a study that showed that time-restricted eating may yield short-term benefits but may have long-term negative effects; at the very least, it's not shown to have long-term positive effects. This isn't a perfect study and more work needs to be done, but for now it's enough to make me think that maybe I don't have to try to force feed myself and that maybe, just maybe, it's okay to go back to eating five or so small meals over the course of the day.

I'm reminded of something Dalia Kinsey, the author of Decolonizing Wellness wrote. Your body's reaction to hunger is going to be hoarding fat; even if you're not trying to lose weight, that's not a good outcome. More importantly, only you know how much your body needs of anything, regardless of what is advised for a serving or a number of servings. And while that may sound touchy-feely, that was one of the most profound messages out of Ultra-Processed People by Chris van Tulleken, and yes, he had plenty of scientific evidence to back it up.

Listening to our bodies can be really hard when we're subjected not only to ultra-processed foods but also marketing (see Raj Patel on that one), which is why it's important to do our best to break from both. I can tell you it's much easier to break from ultra-processed foods than marketing, no matter what kind of media you choose to consume. But it's worth the effort, however imperfect. Take a deep breath when your experiences contradict claims, and maybe cross your fingers that if you're in alignment with most of the best scientific research, you might have some grace around the rest of it.

Deb in the City

The dead of night, thanks to allergies (Day 51)

The worst thing about not getting as much sleep as other people (at least in my home) is having to lie in bed awake for so long before I can turn on the light. I've learned through many early morning hours that, for the most part, the thoughts I have at those times are not thoughts that I should take seriously. I have no idea what the science says about it, but I imagine my thinks it should still be sleeping, and therefore processes thoughts at a level that isn't entirely rational. Because I am, actually, awake, those thoughts tend to look like the worst possible version of my fears and insecurities. Perhaps the lesson of the long, dark nights of our souls isn't that we have to unlock anything, we just have to get through it.

It is far, far better when I can do something as opposed to lying in bed, staring into the dark, waiting for sleep to return, which it almost never does. I do try to make use of my phone during those times, but that concentrated bright light doesn't help much when the rest of the room is dark, and I feel my already weak eyes straining that much more. I have been going into the kitchen once it hits 6 AM--that's a decent time to move around--but I think I'm going to have to start at 5:30 AM. 

Last night saw me wake up around 3 AM, in large part because I wasn't able to work out yesterday due to my allergies. 3 AM is not the worst--it's 2 or 2:30 that makes me feel like I want to fly into the stratosphere. But usually if I can fall asleep around 9 or 9:30 PM, I can stay in bed until around 4 or 4:30 AM. (The night before I slept until 6:30 AM, which was amazing until I realized that it was because of Daylight Savings--but 5:30 isn't bad either.) I have, of course, tried to stay up later in the hopes of waking up later, but staying up until 10:30 PM doesn't buy me later sleep but less sleep--go figure. 

Clearly, I need to make sure I work out, which is why I'm pretty religious about it. But then I need to avoid eating foods that trigger any reactions, and that is harder to control as my reactions are getting a little more serious. Is this why so many people go on vegetable only diets?

Deb in the City

Allergies (Day 50)

I mark the half-way point of my blogging experiment with a really lousy allergy flare up. I know, exciting stuff, but then I never promised that I was going to be constant explosions of surprising insights. Also, pretty sure it isn't just me.

Two possible culprits: earlier spring seems to be bringing earlier pollen, and I've also been told people can have winter allergies. While that wasn't much of a problem when I was younger, entirely possible that it's something that has changed in my body, especially given all of the things that have changed on the planet.

Other possible sources include my worsening food sensitivities. These are not things that show up in an allergy panel, but as an allergist once told me, our bodies' reactions are the best possible indicators. All I know is that I long for the time when I could choose to not eat meat and was a little lactose intolerant; as it is now, reactions to dairy and eggs are uncomfortable but fleeting, while reactions to wheat and soy are frightening, suspending some of my body's systems for a week. I'm more careful than I have been, but even after being assured that a dish I ordered had neither soy nor wheat, I find myself this morning, even after literally rinsing leftovers, sick to my stomach, struggling to keep my eyes open, and experiencing numbness on my tongue and fingertips. 

As with so many things lately, the first thought that comes to mind is "why can't it be both?" However, I'm not sure how safe it is for me to ever go to a Chinese, Japanese, Korean, or Thai place ever again. 

Thank god for Indian food?

Deb in the City

When Gaslighting Equals Cancer

Five days ago, I had a colon resection to remove a cancerous tumor. Translation: I had colon cancer. Having found out at the end of March and gotten the surgery by the beginning of May, by modern standards I moved at the speed of light, even if the wait felt like eternity at the time.

The wait wasn't eternal, but the time it took for the cancer to develop was, of course, much longer than six weeks. One doctor says four years, another says ten. Based on my symptoms, I'm going with the latter.

But how, you might ask, could I have missed it for so long? Good question. Because I didn't miss any of the symptoms, and I brought them up to my doctor at the time. So the answer is that I didn't miss it, but she did.

About a decade ago, my digestive system started being erratic. I brought it up to my doctor, who didn't have any special insight. Frustrated, I did some internet "research" and thought my symptoms fit Irritable Bowel Syndrome. When I told my doctor that I thought I had IBS, she shrugged and said that if I thought I had it, then I probably did. Okay then. Only thing is that there's no treatment for IBS, so the shrug fit.

I was also experiencing aches and pains as well as fatigue intermittently. When I brought it up to my doctor, she said the primary reason people would have those symptoms was because of depression. I really didn't know what to say because I wasn't depressed. Very stressed with life issues I've talked about in this space, but not depressed.

I was, however, suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and when some of those symptoms became unbearable, she prescribed me a medication that was known to cause digestive issues, or, in my case, exacerbate pre-existing issues. When I brought it up, she said that sometimes digestive issues were associated with mood disorders, so this might end up resolving my issues eventually. Spoiler alert: it didn't, and I stopped taking the medication after less than three years.

Low energy, aches and pains, digestive problems, and life issues -- but I was still as active as I could be. I also ate a mostly vegan, gluten-free diet (and when I wasn't vegan, I was vegetarian), never smoked anything, and drank sparingly if at all (and for the last few years, I've drank nothing other than kombucha -- and I don't even drink that anymore). In other words, my only risk factor for colon cancer was my weight, which, oddly, seemed to accumulate around the time all of these symptoms began. Perhaps you've guessed by now that my doctor was laser-focused on THAT, to the point where I couldn't come in for something like an ear ache without her having me weighed. 

You would think that since she was so obsessed with my weight and since I had complained about all of those other symptoms she might have said at some point, hmm, maybe we should do a colonoscopy. And I believe she did -- once. But she suggested it in such a way as to make it sound unattractive, and I declined. Forgive me for thinking that since my symptoms persisted, her suggestion should have as well, especially since she was ALL OVER ME when I had a relatively rare symptom of breast cancer. She would not accept a good answer, and I finally ended up with a surgeon. The culprit: a traumatized milk duct (which maybe shouldn't be a surprise in someone who nursed four babies past the age of two). When she wanted to aggressively pay attention to something, she could. 

To be fair, she wasn't the only person in the medical field who didn't take me seriously. When my husband dragged me to the ER in 2018 because of chest pains and feeling like I was going to pass out, one of the ER residents used the word "unimpressed" to describe his evaluation of my EKG and overall presentation -- until a test showed that I had elevated levels of troponin. Credit to my cardiologist (not the resident): he aggressively chased theories and tests, but when my PET scans came back clean, he threw up his hands. It was a mystery, but as long as I kept exercising, I should be able to prevent it (never mind that the two episodes that required hospitalization were set off by working out at the gym...).

Do people get why I did NOT want to go to the doctor after a certain point? Because while no one said they thought I was crazy, it's pretty easy to tell when people aren't taking you seriously.

My theory to explain everything was Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, because that was a great explanation for why sometimes I was just so god damned drained sometimes. It was also, like IBS, something that was real (in other words, I wasn't crazy), but no harm, no foul, since the medical profession couldn't treat it anyway. Oddly, this didn't do anything to make me feel like anyone was taking me more seriously.

I lucked out a few years ago when my previous doctor left the hospital for a concierge service and was replaced by a really attentive doctor who -- wait for it -- listened to what was going on with me. Perhaps emboldened by that, when my symptoms got worse I let him know, and he suggested a colonoscopy, but it was my choice. When they got much worse, I felt like I could take him up on it. Great!

...Only I still managed to meet another doctor between the scheduling and the actual procedure who implied that my symptoms were indicative of something much less serious. That interaction was exhausting -- did I mention that I've been exhausted for a decade? -- to the point that I didn't bring up the ear pain that turned out to be an infection. Symptoms of that infection are still plaguing me, but I couldn't bear to stay in that office for one more minute.

When I saw my current doctor today, I brought my husband, more to keep me from going off about how his predecessors had failed me. But my husband couldn't restrain himself from pointing out to my doctor that this situation affected not just me but also our family. And...he's right. It has impacted every aspect of my family's life, however much I've tried to minimize the impact. For more than half of their life, my sons have seen me as someone whose energy levels are undependable (but who usually pushes through anyway). Managing this condition, completely in the dark, has sapped not just my energy but my mental faculties. We all obsess about food, but my ever changing list of things that I could and could not have was causing me to do mental gymnastics that no one could keep up with. And while no, sorry, I haven't been depressed, I realize I've seen everything through a pessimistic lens. Dealing with low-level chronic pain -- and exhaustion -- is going to do that to you. 

Even with pain from the laparoscopic incision, I'm sleeping better than I have in years; no more waking up with a mild sense of panic in the middle of the night and not being able to go back to sleep for two hours, if at all. I am starting to feel like maybe, just maybe, this might be the beginning of a good chapter of my life. Let's see.

Deb in the City

What's Making Me Better

A couple of health setbacks in the last month were exhausting enough that I decided to, you know, listen to my body and take it easy. (I hate taking it easy.) So I didn't tax myself with anything more strenuous than walking for about thirty minutes or forty-ish minutes of qigong. Shockingly, I feel better, and I think I got the message from my body that, just maybe, heavy weights aren't my thing, and if I want my epic walks back, I'm going to have to earn them. So now I can walk about forty minutes per day, and we'll go from there.

Along the same lines, but not nearly as serious, I think herbs are not my friend. Please, not those herbs, which have never been my thing for numerous reasons that make me a complete outlier in our civilization. No, I mean medicinal herbs that grow in my garden. I mean echinacea, which people I know have been going on about for most of my adult life. We grow some in my community garden plot, and my plot-mate dried a slew and gave me some to take home. After two tries with the tea in the morning that I thought might be bothering my stomach, I decided to incorporate it into a ginger-bug based soda. I lasted three or four days before I realized that the increasingly painful cramping of my digestive organs was not being helped by the echinacea. And then, oh yeah, my kidneys were sore, which isn't something that happens to me a lot. 

I hate when people talk about "detoxing", but I decided that I was going to confine myself to fruits, vegetables, and nuts until I felt better (basically, a vegan "high raw" diet). And you know what? I do feel better -- better than I have in a few years. So I'm going to stick with this until/unless it feels like it's not enough, and then we'll reassess from there. But I feel...good.

Just say no

The cure, apparently, for what ails me

I'm finding it more and more that I just can't listen to the news. No, I do not mean because it's traumatizing -- did I mention that I'm a member of Gen X and thus I grew up being threatened by nuclear war every other month? -- but because it just seems so dumbed down. I think, and I'm horrified by this thought, that the news is being dumbed down in order to appeal to younger audiences, who apparently aren't being given enough credit to be able to keep up and learn something. (FYI, I'm talking about NPR and Boston's NPR affiliates.) It's one thing for social media to be a younger person's game -- and it is -- it's another thing for the news to be so. So far, the Economist is still doing a pretty good job of being a site that caters to "adult audiences", but we'll see how that progresses in the next few years. Oh right -- I was also watching a lot of NHK Newsline until one of the anchors smugly reported on the failure of South Korea's rocket -- sorry, you want to bring down the tension, or not? -- and Arirang News has some interesting perspectives on foreign affairs.

What's helping me now is my reading, and as I get older I find that to be increasingly the case. I finished Jade Legacy, the final book in Fonda Lee's Green Bone Saga, and I'm kind of ruined now for a lot of other fiction. I'm utterly in awe of someone who can write action scenes that make me feel like I'm watching a movie, organizational and political dynamics, AND intimate portraits of the members of an imperfect family. Needless to say, that's not everyone. Fortunately, there's The Veiled Throne, the third book in Ken Liu's quartet (?), The Dandelion Dynasty. It's 982 pages, because of course it is, but I'm a sixth of the way through and I haven't felt the passage of time. If Fonda Lee can immerse you in an organization with a kaleidoscopic perspective, Liu can show you how the world is built, including everything from the harnessing of silk's static electricity and the building of airships to the dueling philosophical underpinnings of a civilization. If it's not as intimate, it's because the canvas he has to work with is so vast -- and amazing. 

As far as non-fiction, the last month or so was kind of rough. Most difficult title was Not "A Nation of Immigrants" by Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz. Dunbar-Ortiz makes the work of Ibram X. Kendi and Erika Lee feel like a party (and boy, am I never going to look at the Hamilton fans the same way again). Not perfect -- don't get me started on Syria -- but mostly very good. African Europeans: An Untold History by Olivette Otele was a little less wrenching, but not significantly so. I learned a number of things -- one of the de Medici's whose descendants still have some power was in, fact, an African European, as were Septimus Severus and Alexander Pushkin -- but I couldn't help but walk away feeling like, gee, maybe the United States isn't so much worse than Europe. Jesus, Finland, keep your educational system if you're so awfully, extra-special racist, okay? With all that behind me, Stalin's War: A New History of World War II by Sean McMeekin is a relative breeze. I might not be completely convinced of his thesis yet, but it is worthwhile to read about World War II through the Soviet lens (and let's admit that Stalin- and Mao-apologists have persisted much longer than they should have).

No, really -- just say no

My writing continues -- I swear to all the deities of humanity that I will not only finish drafting this, I will also edit it! Getting installment eleven done was a huge confidence booster, and it made getting through installment twelve easier. I am currently in the middle of installment thirteen, and this is where blood touches metal, literally and figuratively. I'm excited because it's here that everything starts escalating and really can't be stopped anymore. And like all writers, I love being on a runaway train!

What's really keeping me sane? Playing with differential equations and studying chemistry in the early morning hours. There, I said it. Now you all know what a nerd I am. (It's not all crazy fantasy fandoms, right?)

Okay -- off to another smoothie and then I catch up on Taxi Driver, the Korean (of course) series -- more on the other k-dramas and k-movies later.

Deb in the City

Pause

If my last post sounds a little bitter, it’s because I came to the realization a few days ago that I needed to pause the writing project I’ve been working on since 2017 so I can accomplish the project I’m referring to. Sorry, I could of course do both, but it’s become evident to me that if I don’t want to have any more episodes like the one I did on December 30, I need to take pressure off of myself.

Bitterness comes from thinking about the pages I’ve already lost.

Full disclosure: there is one more project I have to work on during this time. My sons are nearing the end of their homeschooling career, and it’s time to move them on. We’re focusing on finishing up math, getting them ready for assessments, and working on their transcripts. This is non-negotiable. It’s not hours of work every day – well, not too many hours – but it’s work that needs to be done just about every day. I can do two things pretty well, but I can’t do three.

I picture myself, the last few days of April, and certainly the first week of May, writing furiously to give voice to the characters who have pounding on the walls of my subconscious to get out, and I picture my sons feeling confident about what the months after will bring for them.

The difference between a fantasy and a plan is the work we put into it.

Dogged by food, again

One of the consequences of ongoing toxic stress that no one tells you about are digestive failures, and not just something as well known as IBS. It was during the, well, decade that I was living through hell that I developed a number of nasty sensitivities. While I can eat soy and sesame now, wheat is still off the table. (Dairy is as well, but that's down to straight up lactose intolerance.)

Things are better, though not always good (which is why I'm drafting this at 1:28 AM), and I thought I could finally rejoin the eco-conscious food system and buy farm-fresh produce for my family, and focus on things like zero-waste. Well, no.

Let's call COVID-19 "stressful", and for many of us, let's call it toxic. Fair to say that teens are suffering from that even more than adults are. My teens are, and they both manifested some extreme digestive symptoms. After consulting a nutritionist for both, we got some blood work done. One of them was relatively straight-forward -- as expected, don't even look at dairy and wheat, and tomatoes and beans are iffy -- but for the most part, he can eat within relatively normal parameters. I fully expected that his brother would be less dramatic, but I was wrong.

My other son showed up highly sensitive for the vast majority of what he was tested for. FYI, "vast majority" includes not only wheat and dairy, but also beef, chicken, eggs, pork, and most fruits and vegetables. I want to say that pretty much everything he's eaten showed up as something he was sensitive to, but that's not entirely correct as tea, coffee, and chocolate are all things that he's just fine for. 

 

Who doesn't love lasagna? Now all I have to do is make this with gluten free pasta, vegan cheese and meat, and figure out a tomato-free substitute for the sauce...

I spoke to another healthcare provider the day after I got the results, and her perspective was that his (and maybe both of their) immune systems need to be strengthened, and he should have small amounts of the foods he's sensitive to in the meantime. Confining him to a narrow set of food choices is going to add more stress, both physical and mental. That was the conclusion I had started to come to as well: if the food wasn't killing him, I wasn't going to take it away. (Please note, these are food sensitivity results, not allergies. I do not advise anyone to be as blithe with things that could cause anaphylactic shock.)

All of this came to a head as we had an order of farm fresh food waiting to be picked up, which I knew included things both of my sons had shown sensitivities to. Even with a more relaxed attitude, I can't help but wonder what the point is of going out of my way to get premium farm fresh produce (and meats) when my sons can't eat that much of it. Or does that mean that there's even more of a point to it?

Around this time I also found that my favorite food blogger, Jack Monroe, was posting again. Seems for now they've tightened their belt even more (Brexit is rearing it's ugly head in so many ways), and as they're cheerfully shopping for two on a weekly budget of $25.82 (the current equivalent of 20 pounds), I'm wondering how well they would cope if their family members were diagnosed with the same level of sensitivities to things like wheat and dairy. (Let's pretend that people on that tight a budget can access a test like that in the first place.) Actually, I don't have to wonder, because I've been in similar straits myself. The answer for me was to suffer through the things I was sensitive to because I didn't have a choice. I don't think I'm the only parent who has had to make that decision for themselves, and it's horrible. But having to make that decision for your children is the worst. It is also extremely -- wait for it -- stressful, which exacerbates everything and keeps you cycling through your vicious circle. My hat is off to Monroe and anyone else who can continue through that and power through.

Not sure this makes me feel better or worse about the farm order, but for now I've suspended it. It doesn't make sense right now to order something four days in advance, not knowing who will be sensitive to what. This feels like the right decision for me right now, but I can't but feel like I'm part of the problem now.

Deb in the City

A spoonful of honey

My husband has been sick for the last few days. This follows a lingering cough I managed to shake last week, but overlaps with one of the kids having some kind of GI...thing. Such is winter in the Northeast, especially when everyone is pushing just a little bit (or more) past capacity.

As I was putting honey into my husband's tea yesterday morning, I was reminded of another child, suffering with another cough, but of a different. Back when my now-almost-twenty-six year old was an only child, she suffered from chronic congestion. The protocols seemed to have changed: I spent a lot of time being told that she could take hot, steamy showers to loosen up whatever was making her cough, and then she was finally given an inhaler and a nebulizer after a few trips to the ER. By the time her younger brothers were born ten years later, they just wrote a prescription for an inhaler as soon as they listened to some unclear lungs for the first time.

Back in the steamy shower days, when she was about three, my husband and I spent a lot of time in a neighboring town for certain errands. We liked being there, back then. It was smaller than where we lived, and had had for many years a thriving Jewish culture. Numerous Russian Jewish immigrants had settled in that area, and as we both have Ashkenazi ancestry, it was nice to be in that area among people that reminded us of our ancestors.

Much better than a spoonful of sugar

One of the places we went frequently, with little girl in tow, was a dry cleaners. It's not there anymore; it's either been replaced by a swankier dry cleaner, or an even swankier restaurant. Such are the ways of gentrification. But back then such a place still existed, and it was run by an elderly Russian Jewish couple. I remember now: I went there first to have my shoes adjusted. The man's English was hard to understand, but he was well-practiced in his craft, so when he handed me the shoes and the insert and gestured with his hands, I understood what he wanted me to do. He was kind, but he was busy. His wife, however, satisfied all the stereotypes of an elderly immigrant grandmother, and she thought my daughter was adorable (she was correct). I seem to remember some cuddling.

One day, they had another customer, perhaps a little younger than the two of them, but old enough to be my mother. She was one of those people who aren't given to smiling naturally. I tend to shy away from those people, especially when I have a small child in tow, and especially when that child is ill. I was aware, of course, that we should get her home sooner rather than later, and I was hurrying to make sure we could. I also had the sense that I was interrupting something, even if it was only a chance to share a conversation in their native language.

After my daughter's tenth burst of coughing, the other customer nodded at me. She spoke more softly, and more gently than I thought she would. "Give her hot water with honey," she said matter-of-factly, but with sympathy. "It will soothe her throat, but it will also bind up whatever is making her cough." That sounded...very reasonable. I smiled, as I do when I'm nervous, nodded, and thanked her.

I believe I did give my daughter hot honey water when we got home, but I'm not sure how much it helped. (Surely, it was no less effective than the hot steamy shower.) But that's not why we do everything, is it? Sometimes it's nice to be reminded of when someone wanted to help you, whatever help it was they could offer, and sometimes those are the easiest gestures to repeat.