The Race

After nearly a month of suffering through a family-sized dose of the flu and the stomach virus, I am finally back.  What do I do to celebrate being able to live life again?  Well, three days after crawling out of my hole, I ran my yearly half-marathon this past Sunday.  This did not happen because I was feeling particularly fresh and prepared for a thirteen (point one) mile race.  It happened because I'm stubborn. I paid forty bucks for it back in October and gosh darn it, I was going to get my money's-worth whether or not somebody had to scrape me up off the finish line with a spatula for my trouble. 

And that is exactly the outcome I expected.  It had been weeks since I'd trained.  The illnesses left me with a nagging cough and weak digestion.  Family members shook their heads in bewilderment, wondering why I'd even want to run at this point.  I ignored them.  They are always bewildered over this race anyway.  Noodle even asked me recently, Why would you PAY MONEY to run?? I don't have much of an answer for her, either.  I just LIKE it, okay?

Because I really do like running.  But sometimes I need a goal.  Sometimes I look out the window on a freezing, drizzly morning and huddle deeper into my fleece pajamas, but then I get out on the trail because I've got that half-marathon comin' up. The idea of it keeps me going when the going gets tough.

But this race?

Plain ol' stubbornness.

I may have a smile on my face, but it's only because my kids are so darn cute running along beside me toward the finish line.  I think I'm only being held upright by spandex at this point.

My dear husband always takes pictures for me at the end.  A teensy part of me wishes he would get there closer to the beginning of the race and take pictures of me actually running instead of this shuffling I'm doing by this point.

Yay!  I'm done!!  I had a completely embarrassing worst time ever of two hours and forty-four minutes, but I'm so glad to be crossing the finish line that I can't even care about it.  My hips and knees feel like they have broken glass inside of them, and I'm pretty sure I left some of my toes back at mile nine, but woohoooo!!

I survived!!

Now somebody bring me some Advil.  I'll be in bed, huddling in my fleece pajamas.

The Ear Drama

Why is there a medical-looking picture thingy on the blog today? 

Drama. That's why. It's always something around here.

That medical-looking picture thingy is the inside of my daughter's head, and I'll give you two seconds to guess which daughter it is.  I mean, really, who else in this family loves drama as much as Noodle?  She swims in drama.  She does the backstroke in drama.  Middle name?  Bah! Drama is her FIRST name. 

So, it all started a few years ago.  No, scratch that.  It started somewhere in Noodle's baby years.  She had ear trouble.  A few ear infections.  Fluid behind her ear drums all the time.  Her doctor at the time brushed it off, saying it wasn't so bad, not to worry,  and there's nothing we can do about the fluid issue.  Poor Noodle. Those ears.  Trouble. She would be dizzy quite a lot.  She had pain often.  I tried to brush it off too, telling myself that she will grow out of it.

After many years, though, things did not get better.  She did not grow out of it.  Worse than that, we realized we were living with a nearly deaf child at that!  She was well spoken, given abundant attention, and homeschooled, and therefore her speech was impeccable, even precocious.  But, we had to shout things.  Repeat things.  Repeat things.  REPEAT THINGS!!

At about age seven, Noodle had begun seeing a new family physician who was actually concerned with what we knew to be a problem.  She was sent to an ENT. She failed miserably at the hearing test.  Tubes were inserted in her eardrums to let them drain.

Ahhhhh......relief.

Tubes worked!  Noodle could hear.  No more fluid.  Life was normal.  Time passed. Until....

We began noticing a gradual slide back down into the old Noodle.  The deaf Noodle.  The ear infection Noodle.  By the time she turned 10, things were getting ugly inside those ears and we returned to the ENT doctor for help.  This time, he recommended a second set of tubes and to remove her adenoids.  (Adenoids are lumps of immune system tissue sitting in behind your nose up in your throat.  They generally disappear by the teen years.)

The surgery almost went fine.

Her adenoids were giant and slimy--and I'm going on what I was told, since the ENT didn't take pictures or hand them to me in a sandwich baggie or anything.  The were definitely a problem and needed to come out.  He inserted a tube in her left ear with no problem.  The right ear, however was a problem.  Her ear canal was weird, short and narrow.  He made an incision in the ear drum and couldn't get to the other side or see through it.  He was baffled.  Noodle got only one tube that day.

Which brings me back to this:

It is a CT scan.

If you look closely, you can see the weirdness.

That is the old tube from when she was seven.  STILL IN HER EAR.  The eardrum grew over it and became the giant beast you see in the image, and pushed it back into her inner ear.

Comparatively, this is what her other (almost normal) ear drum looks like with the (new) tube in it:

What??  Totally different.  You don't have to be a doctor to see that.

Apparently, this is a rare complication of getting tubes in your ears.  Instead of the eardrum pushing the tube out as it grows and matures, it pushes it inward and grows increasingly angry at this little green plastic foreign object in it.  And it is so rare, that Noodle's ENT doctor had never even had this happen to any of his patients before. And, he sent us to Shands Hospital in Gainsville, FL to have the chief ENT there figure out what to do with my little drama child and her ear.  And he's saving her CT scans to show off at his next ear doctor conference.

Yesterday, we met the new doctor at Shands and found out what kind of surgery to expect.  (A big thanks to Elaine for coming with me and taking notes so I didn't come out of there with just a surgery date and a confused expression on my face.)

• It will be outpatient.
• The actual surgery will last about an hour, but the whole process will take all day.
• Noodle will be under full anesthesia.
• The doc will cut from behind her ear to get inside. 
• He will use a drill to widen her ear canal.
• He will use a laser to "vaporize" the extra tissue on the ear drum.
• He will remove the old tube and stitch up the hole.
• He will take skin from the back of her outer ear to use as a graft on the ear drum to help prevent it from scarring over again.
• He will not put another tube in it for now.
• Noodle will be out of commission for about a week.
• She will (hopefully) recover her hearing.

The surgery is scheduled for next month.  All your prayers for success will be happily accepted.  Noodle would also appreciate anyone volunteering to do her school work for her during that week of recovery, too.  That's her current most vocal worry--homework.  Boy, has she let me know about it too.

Drama.

The Half Marathon

On Sunday, February 6th, I completed my first half marathon, the annual Tallahassee Half Marathon.  13.1 miles. Yay me!  The night before the race, this is how my conversation went with my nine-year-old daughter, Noodle:

Me:  Tomorrow is the day of the big race!

Noodle:  You're going to be in a race?  Like a real race?

Me:  Wellll...It's a real race, and I'll be racing against other people, I just won't really be trying to beat them.

Noodle:  Why wouldn't you try to beat them?  What's the point of that??


As it turns out, there was a truth to Noodle's point of view.  Hours later, I would be standing amongst the crowd of runners at the starting line, feeling the twinge of competitiveness growing in my bones.  I wanted to run fast.  I wanted to do well.  And oh, dear Lord, please don't let me be last.

At the starting line, we were separated into three groups according to our pace, with the fastest people in front, the medium speed people behind them, and the inchworms in the back.  I placed myself in the last group, feeling pretty realistic.  My friend, Angie, who had only recently healed a broken foot and was currently suffering from the flu, was also in that group next to me.  She gave me the "see ya later" wave as a shot fired off the start of the race.  I waved back and secretly hoped I could at least beat my sickly friend.

The runners began flowing down the FSU campus road like a disturbed anthill.  I stepped over the starting line with deliberance, quickly pondering how the whole "tag" system works.

These tags are given to each runner.  It has a chip inside it that registers your race time as you pass over the start and finish lines.  Most people tie them to their shoelaces.  I didn't have any, so I put it on my ankle with a rubber band.

Beginning the race was very exciting!  I was running fast and so was everyone else.  It was a cold clear morning, about 35 degrees.  We were winding a bit through the FSU campus before hitting the St. Marks Trail, then looping back to finish at the FSU Mike Long Track.  Not everyone was running a half marathon though, some would split off near our turn-around and take on the full marathon, circling through the Southwood community, and then returning to our path to finish in the same place.

About four miles into it, I warmed up enough to take my jacket and gloves off. (It was still quite cold, though.)  I tossed them to the side, along with all the other discarded clothing items from runners.  Apparently, volunteers collect them into a big pile after the race to either be donated or for you to search through for your lost things.  I donated.




Me, number 351, nearing the half-way turn-around.  I'm smiling because it hasn't gotten hard yet. 
Yet. 

I chatted with people along the way to pass the time.  There were people from everywhere in the U.S. and from all walks of life.  However, everyone I talked to was older than me, faster than me, and at least on their nine hundred and twenty third race...this year.  Seriously though, one woman I talked to was 53 years-old, had done marathons all over the world, and had just finished the Miami Marathon last weekend before coming up to Tallahassee for the half marathon.  Wow.  She was serious inspiration. 

Somewhere around mile 10, I suddenly felt like my legs were made of concrete.  I'd been grabbing a cup-full of Gatorade at every aid station, I'd slurped down the gel packet that was supposed to give me fuel to burn, but none of that seemed to matter.  I could hear Dory from Finding Nemo singing in my head "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, what do we do? we swimmmm..."  Needless to say, the last 3.1 miles were not very fun.  I just kept putting one foot in front of the other and watched the old guy wearing a turtle costume zip past me. 

My hands got very cold and numb, possibly because all of the blood in my body was working on trying to keep my legs from falling off, and certainly making me wish I hadn't tossed my gloves.  Outside of the track stadium, I pulled out my phone and texted the words "almost...........there........." to Seth with my unresponsive nub of a pointer finger.  I couldn't even manage to put my phone back in the case.  I held it in my hand the rest of the way.

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.........


Entering into the stadium and onto the track was like a breath of fresh air.  I'm almost done!  Strangers lined the edges of the track cheering--for me, even.  The atmosphere was enough to bring a huge smile to my face, but not enough to break the concrete feeling from my legs.  I'd had grandiose plans to kick it into high gear, giving it all I had to cross the finish line, but apparently this turtle's pace was all I had.  At least I was still moving, right?

Hopers ran along beside me to cheer me on.

The moment of truth:  I crossed the finish line!  Really, that was my goal when I started all this in the first place--to finish.  I also wasn't last.  AND I even made a much better time than I thought I would!

I ran the half marathon in 2 hours and 25 minutes which, incidentally, was only three minutes faster than this guy....

 ...who won the full marathon.

I'm pretty darn proud of my time though.  I'm also pretty darn sure I won't be winning any marathons any time soon.

My friend Angie crossed the finish line also.  Annoyingly, she caught up a lot of the early distance I put between us.  I need to find some slower friends.

I collected my finisher's medal and proudly shuffled in an awkward way to the car with my family.  We went out for pizza and then went home.  I wasn't able to walk, sit or squat for the next two days, but hey...

I did it!. 

And I wasn't last.

The Tooth Decision

Why are my teeth not part of my body?

(Pardon me for a minute while I rant about the health care system as it pertains to my mouth--I just went to the dentist today. )

Why is it that if I have a problem with my toe, I might end up at a specialist, still covered by my insurance, but if I have a problem with my tooth, suddenly my mouth is disengaged from my body and thrown over an imaginary fence into a totally separate profession with totally separate insurance?  What is wrong with this picture??  Am I the only person who thinks this is idiotic?  Am I the only person who thinks our entire health care system needs to be fixed?

Oh.  Right.  Well I mean in reference to teeth!

Sheesh.

So anyway, I went to the dentist today.  Actually, I went to an endodontist.  Yeah, the root canal specialist.  I hadn't seen a dentist in so long and am so unversed in dental stuff that I didn't even know there was a such thing as an endodontist.  Those of you who have had root canals are shuddering every time I say the word endodontist.  Endodontist.

Well the endodontist didn't take long to tell me that yes, I do need a root canal.  And a crown.  Of course.  Do people ever end up hearing good news from him?  Like, Congratulations! You don't need a root canal and you've won a NEW CAR!!   I doubt it.  That's why I was sent there, because I have a cracked tooth that needs a root canal.

But here's the kicker: the doctor tells me that even though I have great teeth otherwise, the root canal and the crown might not do the trick.  There's a good possibility they might not work, and I might lose the tooth anyway and have wasted a pile of money on it for nothing.  So my other option, he suggests, is to have the tooth extracted.  It's my molar and I wouldn't really miss it so terribly.

I leave the dentist feeling a little down.  Darn tooth.  I brushed you obsessively.  I floss...sometimes.  I did my best to care for you even when I didn't have dental insurance.  And what for?  To get a cracked tooth because I clench my jaw while I'm asleep.  Something I can't even help.  Ugh (again). 

Now I'm faced with a quandary.  Do I fork over big bucks I don't really have to save a tooth that might not be saveable in the end?  Or do I have it yanked out and spend the rest of my life with a tooth-handicap? 

What would you do?

If You Feel Any Uncomfortable

Today we are in Guangzhou, China.  Today is clinic day.

This is the point in the adoption process where people in white coats torture you and your child for several hours in a hot, crowded, crumbling building.  It involves poking and prodding and getting stabbed with needles.

We took a short walk down the street from our hotel to the clinic.  The air was oppressively heavy--about to rain--since the front that hung over us all through our stay in Zhengzhou had followed us south, here.  The air inside of the old clinic building wasn't any better.  I could tell the air conditioning was turned on (unlike any of the buildings in Zhengzhou) but the number of people made it suffocating.  Being a Saturday morning, the place was overcrowded with families trying to get their appointments pushed through before it closed down for the afternoon and the weekend.

At first, we were told to wait.  Our guides would work with the clinic to help get the paperwork set up for our group. 

So we waited.  And waited.  The kids played together a bit.  ( The little girl on the left playing with Teegan is 8 years old.  She is so happy and excited to be getting a family.  She makes me smile.  )

These two boys (holding Teegan and standing in front of him) have been the best playmates. They are from another family traveling with us. Teegan loves them. They run and play ball and wrestle with him.  We keep telling them we'll have to bring them home with us, since all Teegan has are Jie-Jie's (big sisters) waiting for him.

Finally, it was Teegan's turn for some action.  Unfortunately, it wasn't the kind of action he was looking for. 

The chart behind them in this picture is an eye chart for the bigger kids.  They have to show which direction the hand is pointing with their own hand, something I found easier to do than read the letters on an American eye chart.

This lady was an Ear Nose and Throat doctor.  She actually wore that big met circle on her forehead.  Cool.

"If you feel any uncomfortable, please come to see our doctor at once!"

Yes.  It was uncomfortable.  Doctor...?

Lastly, Teegan had to recieve six vacines and a TB test.

I know how he feels.

Are You Hungry?

Well no need to leave your room here at the Crown Plaza Hotel in Zhengzhou!  You too can order room service from our delicious selection of excellent dishes.

Cold Dishes

Tossed Ice Algae
Pork Ear With Ginger
Hot and Sour Fern Root Noodles
Spicy Cold Beef Heart, Lung and Tripe
Marinated Beef Tendon
Peanuts in Vinegar
Jelly Fish With Vinegar

Soups

Stewed Sea Cucumber With Chicken
Stewed Black Chicken with Aweto

Hot Dishes

Braised Bullfrog With Bamboo Shoot
Sauteed Shrimps Ball With Green Chilli
Braised Pork Intestine  With Tofu
Braised Curd Duck Blood With Chilli
Boiled Sea Cucumber in Papaya With Stock

Staple Food

Pan-Fried Assorted Mushroom Cake
Green Bean Jelly "Northern Sichuan" Style

Kid's Special

Deep Fried Calamari





So call now and enjoy your favorite foods right in the comfort of your room!

Greetings, Meetings and Beatings

Hi. How are you?

I'm fine, thanks.

Good...

If I were to run into you at church or Walmart, this would probably be our conversation. At least to start. Then it would depend on you to be a good conversationalist to get things going, because I would likely stare at you dumbly for a moment before running away. I'm not the best at small talk, okay?

But don't you find it interesting how we don't often tell how we really are? I mean come on, how well does "fine" describe you at the moment? How well does "good" describe your week? Is the other person even wanting to know how you are? If so, the conversation would be more like this:

Oh hi, Friend! How are you?

Ah, well, it's been a very interesting day. Would you like to sit here on this bench with me and I'll tell you all about it?

Sure! Let me just move my grocery cart out of the checkout line.




Hmm...
I think we do want to know how people are doing. Just on our own time. In the comfort of our own homes.

And that's why God invented Blogging.


Yep. I wandered all the way through that thought process just to tell you how my week was. Thanks for asking. It's a crazy world inside my head, people, just go with it. And, incidentally, my world outside my head has been a little crazy, too.


On Sunday, we came home from a weekend of wedding mania. Seth's brother (one of many so don't worry too much about keeping track) got married in Melbourne. His dad was the officiator. Um, the guy that did the marryin'. I spent much of my time taking pictures and edging warily away from drunk people.

On Monday, Seth was still suffering from endless dizziness--a problem that had been going on for more than a week without knowing why, and is still going on. He went to work anyway, spinning like a drunk man at a wedding. Added to that, he began to develop boils on his head, neck and hip. I'm sure that's not the scientific name, but what do you call painful, red lumps the size of Texas and of unknown origin? (And don't you just love hearing about my husband's many strange and unexplained medical problems? He never fails to provide blog material.)

On Tuesday, well, not much of interest happened that I recall. We did our school work. Noodle had a friend over. Went to gymnastics. Blah, blah, blah.

On Wednesday, Noodle was playing out in the front yard. Hopers was inside watching a DVD. I was cleaning the kitchen. (Wait, that's where I always am!) Suddenly, I hear bloody-murder screaming coming from the front yard in Noodle's voice, "Help!! Help me!! Helllllllpppp!!" I run to the door, throw it open, and there is my seven-year-old with a pit bull attacking her. The dog stops and looks at me and I shout, "Get in here, Noodle!" She bolts into the house, the dog runs off, and I begin to attend my crying and shaking daughter. I get her into the shower, because she's covered in dirt. The dog (it was the next door neighbor's) had bit her in the shoulder and the shoe and had scratched up her chest so that she had bloodblisters and bruises. I called animal control, but the neighbor came home and hid in her house with the dog when they came. (I'm so glad I'm moving.)

On Thursday, I got up out of bed and went to the kitchen. The girls were already awake and vying for my attention. Hopers, wearing little plastic dress-up shoes, ran to hug my legs like she always does. Three-year-olds can be so sweet. They act like they haven't seen you in days rather than just overnight. As she stepped away from the hug, her dress-up shoes (which have zero traction on the bottoms) caused her to slip, and at the same time, she tripped over my feet. Hopers went down like a wooden plank, somehow unable to get her hands out in time, smacking her forehead on the tile floor. She cried one enormous, lusty cry as I picked her up, but then was silent. I thought for a moment that she was gathering up breath for another one (you know how little kids do), until the next one didn't come. She went stiff in my arms and then limp, with her head hanging back and her eyes rolled back. I, of course, freaked and started screaming for Seth (who was in the bedroom). But by the time I made it to the living room couch with her, she came to, and was crying heartily. Now, if I'd been home alone, I probably would have rushed her off to the emergency room. But I had my husband there, who is an emergency worker, to tell me that she was fine, and don't worry, people get knocked out all the time, and gee, she definitely won't be in the UFC when she grows up because she gets knocked out too easily. On the upside, she didn't even get a lump on her forehead.

On Friday, we met again with our realtors who brought out yet another counter-offer from the buyers to our counter-offer to their counter-offer to our.... um, did I mention we've been trying to sell our house? We've been negotiating a contract for weeks now, but Friday was the day when I think I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. And there were people actually buying our house in that light. Oh, and Seth went to the doctor and had a boil lanced. EWWW. And Obama got the Nobel Prize. Huh??

On Saturday, I stayed in bed and wrote this blog post. But now it's 9:40 and I have to peek my head out into the world to see what awaits me. Pray for me!!

Have a nice day.

The Dust Mite War

The Dust Mite. My household enemy number 1.

They have been the bane of my existence for as long as I can remember. The day I received the allergy skin test results, pointing to this creature as my main cause of suffering, sealed our relationship. I, the lone warrior, fighting an epic and eternal battle against an unseen enemy...

Yes, I have been watching too much tv. But you get the idea.

My eyes start to feel gritty, my lungs get tight, my nose gets stuffy yet runny at the same time. There's a place in the roof of my mouth that begs to be scratched. I spend the next several days breathing through my mouth and reaching for an inhaler. No, I haven't been yelling at my kids. I was simply doing some cleaning and had a run-in with that mangy arachnid pictured above.

I can hear someone whistling the western showdown song from The Good, The Bad and the Ugly.

Doodle-doodle-doooo Doo Doo Doooo...

So what can be done? Well, there's always medication. Over the counter, prescription. Probably a few street drugs that would make me not notice. But, I'm more a "treat the problem, not the symptom" kind of girl, so I try to avoid this avenue. There are many, many changes that can be made to help combat dust mites, it just depends on how far you want to go. Living in the Deep South paints a big fat target on my pillow, because dust mites love warmth and humidity--two things we have in over-abundance here. But, I'm not going to move to Arizona because that would be too hard and too easy (I will NOT throw down the white flag in this battle!). However, I have developed a strategy that goes a long way:

Get rid of carpet. It's nasty stuff anyway. Traps all kinds of dirt, mold, and eight-legged foes. We installed wood flooring and tile through most of the house and it has done amazing things for my sinuses. This one's a biggie.

Vacuum carpets several times a week. If you don't have the ability to remove it (renting, too poor to put wood flooring in the whole house like us), this is your next best option. Two bedrooms in our house still have carpet. By vacuuming them 3-4 times a week, I can suck up the dust, the mites, and the skin flakes they're living on. Then I dump them outside in a trash can. Good-bye.

Don't sweep! You heard me. Using a broom on your floors just sends everything circulating again. Every other day, I get out my nifty floor cleaner thingy. I get it wet, squeeze it out, and go to town "mopping" the floors. It collects the dust for me to rinse away. When I'm done, the pad goes in the washing machine to be used again, and the pile (yes, I have piles--crayon wrapper, cheese cracker, hair ball...) gets scooped up with the dust pan.

Damp dusting is a must. Throw away your feather duster and whatever disposable thingy that's currently being marketed as a dust trap. Find a rag. Get it wet. Squeeze it out. Wipe. Rinse. Repeat. Don't forget the ceiling fan.

Minimize the dust collectors. Duh. The more knickknacks, what-nots and tchotchkes you have, the more difficult your dusting task becomes. And no, you can't just pretend they're not dusty and ignore them, because every time you walk past your collection of 1960's orange doorknobs, the dust mites are doing nose-dives into the moving air current and ending up, well, you know...


Allergen Covers. As mentioned before, a dust mite's favorite food is YOU. Your dead skin flakes to be exact. Where is the most concentrated collection of you? Why, in your bed, of course. So where is the most concentrated collection of dust mites? Why, in your bed of course. I have zippered allergy covers on every bed pillow and mattress in the house. And I never go on a trip without my pillow. Something about pressing my face into someone else's old skin collection AND dust mites gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Wash the bed. At least once a week. Wash the sheets, blankets, quilts and allergy covers from the pillows/mattress in hot water and dry them in a hot dryer. Don't keep a big 'ole comfortor on your bed that is "dry clean only" or any silliness like that. Anything that lies on the bed must be washed once a week (including husbands).


Change the filter. In your air conditioner, I mean. If you're fabulously rich, get one of those whole house air purification systems. If you've only got a little extra money and you live in the Deep South, get a dehumidifier. If you're broke like me, just buy a new a/c filter every three months, but don't skimp here--you get what you pay for.

Get plastic furniture. Ha ha ha... Okay I'm only kidding a little. Remember how I said your bed is the most concentrated collection of "you" and therefore dust mites too? Well, the couch is a big competitor for that number one spot. I went through a lot of concern over my furniture because, while you can take the cushion covers off and wash them in the washing machine, they're only a small percentage of the total dust mite living space. And here's the kicker: what we're really allergic to is in the poop of these little buggers, so anything that purportedly kills them is not removing the allergen. So what to do? Washing the covers helps a little. Vacuuming and steam cleaning often also helps. The best solution? Buy leather or faux leather furniture.

Long live the sinuses.

What Gene Did I Just Eat?

I just finished watching a documentary online called The Future of Food. It was profound enough to make me drop my fork and eyeball my cabbage and broccoli sautee suspiciously.

It is an investigative look at genetically modified food, farming, and politics. Things I found most fascinating:

1. Living things can be patented. If a corporation patents a variety of seed and that seed blows off of their truck onto your little farm, they can (and will) sue you for growing that seed, even if you didn't want it to grow.

2. These same companies manufacture pesticides that only work in conjunction with the seeds they have patented. So, the farmer has to buy both, or the pesticide/weed killer will destroy their crop.

3. Genetically modified foods are created using bacteria and viruses. These little creatures are especially effective at "invading" cells to deposit the new DNA. It is unpredictable how these pieces of DNA, bacteria and viruses will continue to interact once released into nature, much less, our bodies.

4. Many countries will not import certain crops from the US because they do not want to risk these genetically modified seeds entering their agriculture. This is detrimental to our farmers.

5. Many countries have passed laws requiring genetically modified foods to be labeled as such. Here in the U.S., we seem to feel that ignorance is bliss.

There were so many more fascinating things about this study, but I will not bore you to death with what I found fascinating. You should go watch it and see just what will fascinate you. Also check out the website for the documentary at http://www.thefutureoffood.com/

So, Where've You Been?

Ouch. It's been a long time. The worst part is, my last blog was that awful "All About Me" post that people had to be reminded of everytime they passed by my blog on their way to someplace more happenin'. Well, I will relieve you of that undeserved torture, my friend.

So, what's been going on my life? Mostly, it's been an expanded version of my usual wife, mother and homeschool teacher role.

As a wife, I've been asked to morph into Business Assistant Extraordinaire. Seth is starting up a fitness studio with several partners and convinced me to create their logo, design & manage their website and make flyers for upcoming events. I suppose that makes me the company advertising department--a position I absolutely have no time for, but somehow am slogging through it anyway.

Also my wife role has included nursing--a lot--for about the last year. Seth has had the worst of the worst in the health area this year, and I'm wondering when we'll see the light at the end of the tunnel. Let's see, there's the eczema, which was getting out of control, when we decided to do "the diet" to try a different approach than the steriod/medication angle. But because he wasn't taking his usual medicines, he got a staph infection that took over his whole body and would have killed him if it weren't for 3 months of antibiotics and some other treatments that I described here. Then there was the little elective surgery he had done to keep our family size static, but ten weeks later turned into a terrible infection that had him bed-ridden for a week. And of course, there was the bone cancer scare. A CAT scan that was being done for other reasons (I'll describe in a minute) showed a concerning tumor near the top of his left femur (the large leg bone that connects to the hip). He ended up having a bone scan and x-rays and going to Shands Hospital in Gainsville, FL to see an orthopedic oncologist. Well, it turned out that he probably has a mild case of Fibrous Dysplasia that we will keep an eye on over the next few months, but it was a very crazy trial getting to that realization. And now there's this week's latest strange medical problem. I'll spare you the gritty details, but the doctors think he may have a condition called IgA nephropathy and asked him to get a kidney biopsy to find out. So, yesterday, we spent the day at the hospital while Seth got introduced to anesthesiologists, nephrologists, nurses, and giant needles. I must admit, though, for me, it was a day of rest! Not that I wasn't tired (we'd gone to bed late and gotten up early), but I had a day of nothing to do but sit around. And waiting. Very weird. I didn't mind it at all. :)

In addition to my expanded wife role, I've also expanded in my mother/homeschool role. No, I'm not having a baby (see previous paragraph). However, I have taken on another warm body in my house during the week. My three-year-old little sister, Tabitha, has joined the brood, making life more complicated and easier at the same time. On the one hand, I now have three small munchkins to clean up after, feed, mediate between, and try to take to the grocery store (nightmare!). On the other hand, when they are playing together well, it is so precious and also keeps them out of my hair for a little bit (love it!!).

So, those are my excuses for being a terrible blogger.

What are yours?

Seth Update, Number I Don't Know

Let me bring you up to speed since the last post I wrote about Seth's health issues. He finished taking the antibiotic, but could tell things were not right yet. After quick phone call to the dermatologist, he was back on a second round of the same antibiotic. We both questioned this plan, since we'd always heard that switching to a different antibiotic was the best course of action. But, Seth did it. All the while, he was feeling somewhat better, but not much. Walking a fine line between tolerable and totally miserable.

So, the second round of antibiotics ended, and the next day, Seth ends up coming home early from work because his body is completely red and itchy. His face and fingers are swollen. The circles under his eyes are magnified and strangely wrinkled. All of his glands are swollen. This is not normal! Seth makes another appointment with the dermatologist, hoping for some answers.
He comes home that afternoon completely dejected. The doctor had hardly listened to him, claiming that a staph infection isn't really the problem and that it's just Seth's eczema flaring up from something. "Have you been using a new detergent?" the Doc ACTUALLY asked him. (Of course that's it, Doc. I've been about to die for the last several months from swollen glands and oozing sores because my wife bought the wrong laundry soap! Are you kidding me?) He wrote Seth ANOTHER prescription for the same antibiotic and told him to go home and soak in the tub. Oh yeah, and then he wrote a prescription for chigger medication too.

. . . Needless to say, Seth was furious, depressed, miserable, and still without any real answers. However, that's not the end of the story. Today, there was a glimmer of hope.

Seth went to a previously scheduled appointment with an allergy doctor today. This doctor actually listened and spent a long time with the examination. He disagreed with the dermatologist's assessment that staph wasn't a problem. He said Seth has a very serious staph infection and that he probably has become allergic to the chemicals that the staph is producing in/on his body. This new Doc gave Seth a course of action that was more than the usual "shoulder shrug" that others seem to give. It consists of:

• Starting a different antibiotic that will last for one month. (Throwing out the old one.)
• Daily allergy med (fexofenadine) to help itching.
• Applying Bactroban to the inside of his nose 3 times a day (!) to kill staph. (Apparently this is its favorite breeding ground in every person.)
• Continuing the topical steroid cream to control eczema.
• Start using Protopic again. (Used this one years ago, until concerns surfaced about it being carcinogenic. The jury is still out on that, but Seth and the Doc think the benefit outweighs the risk.)
• A bedtime med to help Seth sleep. (Something he hasn't been doing much of, since scratching and tossing take up so much time.)

No allergy scratch test can be done because he doesn't have a patch of skin healthy enough to do it on! Seth had an allergy blood test done several years ago and he was found to be allergic to almost everything. This new doctor says that isn't suprising, and that type of result means he has extremely high levels of IgE, common in people with his severity of eczema/atopic dermatitis. All of this just means life isn't easy. (When is it?) I'll let you know when we find out anything more. The best part today for Seth is just having a doctor listen and respond with answers that attack all of the issues going on.

And...Another Update on Seth

I finally have a minute to myself, so I can give you a quick update on the state of affairs around here. Since the last time I wrote...let's see... well a lot has happened. Seth was not doing well, even on the special diet. His skin began this constant 3 day cycle of getting really inflamed, then hardening up like stone, then oozing and peeling all off. Yuck, right? It was OW, too. He hasn't been to work in weeks. He tried going to a homeopathic doctor, twice, who told him to stop doing the diet because it was stressing him out and would give him strange drops of something under his tongue and send him home with a "wait and see" order. After a couple of weeks of that, and no change, Seth's grandmother suggested he try a hypnotist. Hmm. Well why not? Tried everything else. They're even covered under our health insurance! It was a nice thought, but nothing came from that adventure either. Seth was suffering so much, he just about wanted to die. His mom came down from Idaho to stay with us and help out. She helped him come to the decision that he needed an emergency visit to the dermatologist for some answers. The office was closed, but the on-call physician agreed to see him. As it turns out, in addition to his regular atopic dermatitis problems, he had developed a staph infection all over his body! (He really was about to die, it seems!) They did blood/urine tests (pending) and handed him some hearty antibiotics, which began clearing him up almost immediately.
So, that's where things are. It seems that he is stuck with a life of medicating in order to keep from suffering. But now that he is almost back to the usual, it just seems not so bad compared to how he was.

Another Update & Recipe

Well Seth has finally gotten well enough to return to work this evening, and for that we are all extremely grateful. Things have been terribly out of rhythm for the girls and me these past few weeks. Noodle's schooling has been unpredictable though strangely fruitful. Hopers has been whiny and defiant (yet I can hardly blame that on an odd schedule, since she did recently have a second birthday). I have felt somewhat claustrophobic, having been penned up with three needy people for what seems like ages. Not only that, but I haven't been allowed to have chocolate! Who ever heard of a worse fate than that?
Desserts aside, I thought I might write down another recipe that we have been enjoying, one that I invented myself. That isn't to say that I'm the first person to have ever put these ingredients together, but I didn't have an idea of what I was doing until I was eating the concoction and thoroughly enjoying it!

Garlic Chicken Lettuce Wraps

olive oil
4 cloves garlic, diced
1 onion, diced
2 chicken breasts, uncooked, chopped in very small pieces
8-12 oz frozen chopped spinach
sea salt
1 head iceburg lettuce


Heat a generous amount of olive oil in the bottom of a large skillet. Add onion. Sautee for 4-5 minutes, then add garlic. Continue to cook until soft and the garlic is just beginning to brown. Add the chicken. Cook until the chicken is no longer pink, stirring often. Toss in the spinach and plenty of sea salt. When the spinach is heated thoroughly, remove pan from heat. Take crisp, whole lettuce leaves, fill with warm chicken mixture, fold, enjoy. A very filling meal for two.

Update

We're halfway through another week of the special diet (see Feb 7th, 2008) and Seth is actually beginning to show some small improvement. The core body areas that were really inflamed in the beginning are now just somewhat red and peeling, without the pain, swelling, and bumpiness. The inflammation moved outward to his arms and legs, but even today, some of that started to lessen. Overall, things are much improved. Seth even went to the gym today because he can move around without fear of tearing something!
We're still figuring out how to feel satisfied on this rather bland and limited diet. One of our everyday favorite snacks is homemade flax crackers and guacamole. This is a fiber-filled, omega-3-packed, delicious appetizer that everyone should try.

Flax Crackers

2 cups ground flax seed
3 tablespoons sesame seed
1 clove garlic
small amount of chopped onion
sea salt
stevia
water

Set the oven to 375 degrees. In a bowl, combine flax, sesame seed, a pinch of stevia powder, and sea salt to taste. Add water, small amounts at a time until the mixture will form a ball. Using a garlic press (I love my Pampered Chef one!), press the garlic and then the onion into the bowl providing flavor from the tiny pieces and the juice it produces. Use a fork to mix the onion and garlic into the "dough".
Place a sheet of parchment paper or a silicone mat on a baking sheet. Place your flax dough on that and then cover with a second sheet of parchment paper. Use a rolling pin or your hand to flatten the flax as thin as possible (about 1/8 inch). Remove the top sheet of parchment and tidy up the edges with a pizza cutter. Then use it to make a grid in the flax for easy cracker shapes once they're cooked. Bake for 12-17 minutes or until lightly browned and crisp.

Guacamole

3 ripe avocados
1/4 of a lemon
1/4 of a lime
small amount of cut onion
2 garlic cloves
sea salt
mixed pepper corns

Remove skins, seeds and then mash the avocados in a bowl. Squeeze lime and lemon juice by hand into the bowl taking care not to add any seeds. Press the onion and garlic cloves in the garlic press and add. Mix in sea salt and fresh ground pepper corns to taste. Chill for 30 minutes for maximum flavor!

If you counted up all the words spoken in my house for the past week and determined which one was uttered the most often, I think "skin" might be the grand prize winner. That, and maybe the word "eat" would rival each other for sure. It's starting to get me a little stir crazy, but in the end, I must admit I brought it all upon us.
What are these random mutterings, you ask? Oh where to begin? Where to begin. The owner of this "skin" would be my husband. And let's just face it, his skin not well off right now. Ever since we met, in fact, he has suffered from a terrible roller coaster of eczema, or atopic dermatitis.
"Ohhh, eczema," you say. "I've got some of that on my hands. It's a little itchy and dry. Gets red in the winter."
Let me put things this way. Every time Seth goes to see a doctor or a dermatologist, they take one good look at him and say, "Stay right there! I've gotta show my friends this, because you're the worse case I've ever seen in my 25 year career!" Then they hand him a vat of steroid cream the size of Rhode Island and wish him luck.
He suffers from sleeplessness, hives, swelling, redness, uncontrollable itchy rashes that bleed from so much scratching... All of these things and more have been attacking him since he was a teenager with an erratic flow of worsening and bettering.
Lately, he's been on the downswing. The vat of steroid cream is having less and less effect. Yet I had been stewing on an idea for a few months that I wanted him to try. It wasn't like we hadn't tried everything else. I had seen some information about an "Anti-Inflammation Diet" on a nutrition website that got me thinking. The idea was that the foods we eat either help to reduce inflammation in our bodies, or they increase it. Some foods, like flax seed, are full of omega-3 and other properties which reduce inflammation. Other foods, like buttermilk biscuits, are full of simple sugars and "bad" fats that increase the inflammation load. These are easy enough concepts, but wasn't sure how to apply it to Seth's situation in a practical diet.
That's when I came across a book called The Skin Cure Diet. It was written by a woman who, after reading her life story I found, was exactly like Seth in her eczema sufferings. She had been working on an answer to this puzzling condition for 3o some odd years and had finally stumbled upon the right combination of things to cure herself. And, she was now itch free for several years.
Could it work? Maybe. Could it be too good to be true? Maybe. But that's where we are...trying out this skin cure diet in hopes that Seth will no longer have to suffer through an itchy, sleepless night.
I've been doing it with him so that we're eating together (and hey, maybe I'll benefit from it too?) and I can be a better support. Today was Day 3. You'd think it was Day 56. He's miserable. Seth's skin has reacted so violently to the diet that he had to take off from work because he can hardly bend his arms or turn his head.
The surprising part is, all he's eating is chicken, turkey, salmon, olive oil, and green vegetables! The comforting part is (maybe only for me, since I'm not in pain), the book said that this would happen and that he would need to just stick it out. She explains that the condition is being caused by an overgrowth of candida (a yeast infection) throughout the whole body, and that, when you stop feeding the candida, it begins to die. That die-off is like a giant poison bomb going off. It makes the eczema even worse until, well...until it gets better.
So that's where we are. A no-fun diet with less-fun consequences. I really think it will work if Seth can stick with it for the recommended 6 weeks. Obviously his skin problems are linked to his diet since it reacted this way after just a few days of eating simply. But I really don't know if he will make it. Pray for that. And pray for me too, because I'm getting a little stir crazy over constantly having to ponder "Chicken? Or Fish?"

And that's just for breakfast.

But as I said, I started it.