anecdotal, but completely reliable (or 'the wonders of coconut oil')

I have gout. At least that's what I diagnosed myself with last October when I woke in the middle of the night with a desperately throbbing big toe joint. It hurt for a couple of weeks, then settled down before flaring up every so often (often being too often and particularly when wearing certain shoes).

When I went to the naturopath about a few other issues, I mentioned my self diagnosis. "Oh yes," she said, "your iridology photo does indicate a tendency towards acidity. Avoid wheat, dairy, tomatoes, oranges, alcohol and meat and your body should produce less acid." Actually, she didn't really say the first bit - my iridology shot was rather unenlightening, with only a slight discolouration here and there that may or may not indicate anything significant, and I occasionally follow the diet.

The naturopath also pointed me towards celery seed extract as a way of helping ward off various aches and pains, but after I bought the bottle (at great expense), the pain in my toe settled down of its own accord and the capsules sit in my cupboard still.

Unrelated to all this, I have been reading and hearing about the benefits of eating coconut oil. It's a wonder product, that's for sure. I started carefully swallowing down a spoonful morning and night (the careful swallowing is important, because when it melts and runs down your throat the wrong way there will be a burned larynx and much coughing), because I read it could bring down blood pressure and I was convinced mine was up again. (Is there a slight 'self diagnosis' theme here?)

After several weeks of the coconut oil I realised I had not felt even a twinge from my big toe in ages. And my excessive PMS symptoms had all but disappeared as well. And then the coconut oil didn't taste so good and I got busy and was nearly out of it, and (the long and the short of it) stopped taking it. Gradually, over the course of two weeks, the big toe joint pain came back until it hurt every day. And the aches and pains in my arms, which I hadn't even realised were gone, returned with a vengeance (the self diagnosis on those aches is 'knitting induced RSI').

Now this is anecdotal I know, but I quickly got myself to the local health food shop (where, handily, my naturopath now works) and picked up another jar of coconut oil. This one is packed on the farm in Thailand using brown glass to prevent deterioration of the oil. It tastes beautiful and fresh and... one week later my gout pain is settling, the aches and pains in my arms are easing, and I had barely a hint of PMS.

So go google and check out the scientific evidence on coconut oil if you like, but I'm telling you with real life experience - that stuff works!

(I have no idea what's happening with the BP though)

cecily's natural home remedies

I'm a bit embarrassed to say, but I have a plantar wart on the ball of my left foot. I, who never get a wart (apart from those two in high school which I killed with the aid of a trusty potato), have a wart of the worst variety. Plantar warts grow deep and hurt.

Being a bit of a natural remedy freak, I thought I'd try and knock this wart off without resorting to liquid nitrogen, freezing, or cutting holes in my foot, starting with the potato remedy. I know this works, because as I said above, I've killed warts in the past by slicing a thin piece of potato and rubbing its juice on the wart morning and evening. Over the course of a few weeks, the wart turns black and starts falling apart before disappearing completely. When we met, Frank had a whopper wart over a knuckle, and no amount of freezing had worked. Potato presto - the wart was gone and has never returned.

The trick with killing a wart with potato is liberal, frequent application. Since the bottom of my foot is not a part of my body I often look at, I kept forgetting to do it, and so the wart remained. Next stop propolis. I had no idea if this would work or not, but I love propolis. It kills tinea in a trice and is just a nice, natural remedy I keep for all sorts of cuts and abrasions. If it kills tinea, I figured it was worth trying it on my wart, since a wart is a benign skin tumour caused by a virus.

And it worked. The wart started turning brown, and (with some barbaric, DIY help from needles and tweezers) slowly fell apart. It's a gradual thing though. The hole left in my foot, as wart chips fell away, ended up being about three millimetres. So yes, plantar warts do indeed grow deep. Another truth of plantar warts is they are tenacious. While my foot was gaping with a three mm hole, the wart still clung to the outer edges and would not give up.

This called for the big guns! I overheard someone at work saying dandelion sap also kills warts. Too bad I pulled a whole bunch of dandelions out last weekend. I managed to sniff out a few down the back of the yard, and dutifully plucked a few leaves and rubbed the sap on the wart.

If you want to see something pretty impressive, rub dandelion sap on a wart. Within minutes it will turn black. So now I have a black hole on the sole of my foot. Mmmmm, nice. But it seems to be working - more of the wart is dropping out at every application. Before I know it, that nasty old wart will be gone. I hope. (And I still think it's better than going to a podiatrist!)

making a few decisions here

November already! Am I the only one wondering where on earth the rest of the year has gone? A few months were lost to the greyest, wettest winter I thought might never end. Then I guess there were six trips to the mainland, dozens of readings and a few assignments. Plus work, work and more work. Is it any wonder most of the year has already passed?

I didn't write any resolutions at the beginning of this year. I'm not sure I even made any general goals... I was in a bit of a slump at the time. As the year wore on, my unofficial task for 2009 became taking care of myself and finding my way again. I'm still more hypertensive than I'd like to be, and I've been having a crisis of confidence for a while now. So I sorted a few things out at the naturopath and tried to be generally nice to myself, but, since I'm really quite terrible at being nice to me, I've made minimal progress!

Enter the psychologist. I decided I needed to take the bull by the horns and deal with my insecurities and uncertainty about the future, so I booked in to see a psych. Together we nutted out my passions, the career options open to me and a path forward into new things. Over the course of three months I gained a little insight, and drew a few conclusions.

I am not passionate about nursing any more and would prefer to give it up. I don't really want to do one-on-one counselling, but I might be skilled enough to give it a go if the opportunity came up. I love working with children and want to explore how I could expand this role. I am creative and daring enough to quit my job, pilot a program and seek government funding for it.

So that's what I'm doing... kind of. I'm definitely resigning from my nursing position at Christmas. January will be time out, and then in 2010 I will seek out volunteering opportunities that give me a chance to work with kids and families and generally make a difference in the world. When things become clearer I may well apply for funding to run a program or two. We'll see what happens.

It's not quite as high risk as it all sounds - I'll still be working two days a week as a school chaplain. And nursing is a handy back up - there will always be work available in that one! I can pick up casual shifts, and if worse comes to worst, I can go back to it again.

All in all, I'm excited. Life suddenly has a whole load of potential again. I'm counting down the days until Christmas (not too closely mind you - I don't want to wish my life away!) and looking forward to 2010 big time!

diabetes eat your heart out...

I've just submitted one of the final assignments in my Grad Dip Counselling. It was a personal reflection in which I was asked to identify strong attitudes and values which might impact on my work with clients. I mentioned all sorts of things, but one thing I failed to mention are my increasingly strong views on healthy eating.

The more I read, the more I am convinced that we in the west are slowly killing ourselves with our diet. Take this news headline today: by 2050 one in seven Australians will have type two diabetes. One in seven! That would be fourteen percent of the population.

Does anyone else have alarm bells ringing in their head? Are you looking at our diet and thinking we just might be bringing this on ourselves? Do you walk down the aisle and silently rage against the rubbish supermarkets peddle as food? Can you see the health system, already crumbling, imploding under the weight of bad food?

We could avoid this disaster if we made a few better lifestyle choices. It might mean ditching processed foods for real fruit and vegetables, taking more time with food preparation, and even (heaven forbid) choosing to work less so we don't need to reach for those convenient packet foods. Radical I know, but wouldn't it be worth it? (And we might even be a little less stressed)

So there you have it - my exceedingly strong attitudes on the state of the nation's health. Before I get back in my box, here is my offering in the fight against diabetes:

asian-style chicken salad
photo: happy chatter
recipe: 'light & lean', The Australian Women's Weekly

ask and ye shall receive

Frank thinks I am a bit presumptuous and a little crazy, but I like to think it was pure genius!

Last week we were laid waste by swine flu. At least we think it was swine flu, but since they don't test now unless you are in a 'high risk' category, we don't really know. We had all the advertised symptoms. And we felt like crap. So just let us think it was swine flu, if only to make us feel better. Because like I said, we felt like crap.

So there we were, languishing on the lounge, struggling to make it through the day when I realised we were running out of food. Taking my civic duty very seriously, I was not inclined to leave the house and spread my swine bugs with all and sundry so I was trying to figure out a way to get brussel sprouts into the house. Yes, brussel sprouts. Beats me why, but I just needed them last week.

I thought of getting a face mask, but apart from looking like a goon (we may be part of Australasia here but believe me, Australians don't do face masks!), I'd potentially spread my germs to the hapless face mask dispensers. That wouldn't do.

And then I hit upon the genius plan... I'd phone the fruit and veg shop and ask if they do delivery! (genius, genius, genius)

They said they didn't.

I said no problem, I'd be down with my money and germs in a few minutes.

They said fax my order through and they'd see how they went... and hey presto. At 2:30pm a box of fruit and vegetables were delivered to our door!

It just goes to show, ask and ye shall receive... even when it seems impossible! All I can say is thankyou! You made my day, restored my belief in the goodness of humanity, satisfied my brussel sprout cravings, stopped the spread of swine flu and saved the day... thankyou, thankyou, thankyou.

i think i've kicked the sugar habit

I broke the cardinal rule and went to the supermarket hungry this evening. It wasn't intentional.

I was improvising for a recipe I was a few ingredients short on when Frank arrived home. He'd had a crazy busy day and hadn't been able to purchase the milk and yoghurt as planned, so I thought I may as well pop down to the shop, get the milk and yoghurt and pick up some tomato paste for the pasta mince bake. (Good, hearty winter fare)

While I was there I remembered the group I am running at school tomorrow with pre-adolescent girls. To introduce the topic of value and worth we play a mini game of 'The Price is Right'. Usually I rush to the supermarket on the way to school and select the tastiest, most inexpensive, nut-free, ethical chocolates available. Nut free, inexpensive and tasty I can usually do but ethical is out of the question so I resort to cadbury or nestle and salve my conscience with the 'it's for a good cause' euphemism.

And there tonight, were the kit kats in all their glory. And I was hungry. And they said 'new creamy recipe' on the front and 'it's all about balance' on the back. So I succumbed and went against my fair trade, no crap additives, cut-out-the-sugar ideals and bought one.

And when I got home I tore open the packaging and bit into it... and it tasted disgusting. I remembered too late that the 'new creamy' claim was misleading, I much prefer the old recipe. And sweet? Awful, sickly sweet. Almost put me off my tea.

I guess going to the naturopath and detoxing for a month was worth it after all. I had my doubts about her at the time. She seemed to be prescribing supplements to get more money out of me, and when I questioned this she side stepped by claiming she would rather not prescribe and only does so when absolutely necessary. After three visits valued at over $500 I opted out. But I can't deny my skin has improved, I have new energy and enthusiasm, my hideous abdo-pain-for-a-week PMT has disappeared and I don't crave sugar anymore. (Unless I go to the supermarket hungry it would seem) I grudgingly cede to the healing power of her naturopathic supplements - I have been freed from the grip of sugar-laden, crap filled sweets. I might even go back for the liver cleanse she said would free me from debilitating dysmenorrhoea.

Maybe.
She was a little odd.

Naturopathic dilemmas aside, I will never eat another kit kat in my life.
Well most likely not.
Unless I dash to the supermarket with an empty stomach.

It just isn't worth it. Urgh.

no knead for the old family bible after all

Apparently if you have a ganglion you should pull out the old family Bible, bash the two together and all will be resolved.

I've never been a fan of the treatment myself, too violent and base. So my ganglions have been left in peace to come and go at will. That meant my first ganglion hung off my wrist for a few months before gradually fading away. Occasionally the odd small lump has quietly come and gone, but lately my right wrist (always my right wrist, I think it's the violin that does it) has been sore and bumpy again. I've patiently waited and hoped this ganglion would go away, but all the while I am protecting my wrist from too much strain (because it does hurt, and that's without the emotional pain of such an ugly protrusion. Oh my, that pain is worse than any physical twinge) and nothing changes.

On Saturday I was kneading dough for another loaf of sourdough bread (anyone want one? I have starter coming out my ears). My wrist being tender, I was acting all protective and not really kneading properly, but the dough was slowly becoming supple as it should. I must have been feeling impatient with progress, because all of a sudden I exerted an almighty effort to push the dough into shape. Almighty when compared to my previous kneading of course, not almighty when compared to God Almighty - you get my drift? It was a super knead. With it there was a most definite, audible pop from my wrist.

And just like that, the ganglion was gone! It faded away over the course of a minute or two until now I have only a slight, diffuse, barely raised lump on my wrist. Amazing! Nurse that I am, I imagine my synovial fluid splattered amongst my delicate bones, but hey - my wrist is slim and elegant once more and all pain (emotional or otherwise) has disappeared!

And with that I am off to amend Wikipedia's ganglion entry. Really, everyone should know about this!

help. my insides are leaking.

You might not think it to look at me, but apparently I have a leaky gut. Here I have been thinking I had high blood pressure (you would not think that to look at me either), but it appears not. Instead I have increased intestinal permeability. Actually that's not entirely true either. I do have high blood pressure, but it might not be the problem so much as a symptom of another problem.

The ongoing saga of my blood pressure came to yet another head when I started feeling awful a couple of weeks ago. The world began spinning in a most disconcerting manner, my skull seemed to have doubled in size and weight, the pressure in my head was immense, my pulse bounded strongly in my abdomen and I just wanted to sleep, sleep, sleep. The sleep thing is nothing new - I always want to sleep, but generally save it up for after 10pm. At work I felt seedy and asked someone to check my BP. Yup. High. 148/100. This sent me into my usual 'oh my goodness, I'm sick, how come I have a chronic disease' tail spin, not helped by the nearby doctor suggesting I gulp down a few beta blockers - not the kind of drugs one really wants to be mucking around with. I spent the next two days feeling stressed and scared as I stared down the barrell of an inevitably shortened life expectancy and no possible way to prevent it.

OK. Stop right there!
Shortened life expectancy and no way to prevent it?

What melodramatic drivel with no basis in reality! Hypertension can be managed, prevented, controlled! So I took a deep breath, started looking at the situation with fresh eyes, found a natropath and made an appointment.

Today was the big day. I dutifully refrained from drinking alcohol in the evening (why is it that when you are instructed to refrain from something you automatically want to do it - I rarely drink alcohol but it was all I could do to hold myself back from imbibing a glass last night), ate my high protein beef burger for tea and this morning captured my second void of the day for a urinary indican test.

I felt kind of strange going to a natropath... aren't they, like, of the devil or something? Quacks? A little dodgy and soft around the edges? As it turns out, this natropath was very nice, listened to my concerns, tested my urine, administered a zinc tally test, and came up with a plausible hypothesis for my problems - leaky gut.

It sounds kinds of strange, this leaky gut - is my abdomen full of oozing, dripping, seeping mush? Is free fluid floating between the folds of my bowell? Are my ovaries bathed in juice? Apparently not. Leaky gut has to do with what moves from the gut into the blood. Normally only small digested particles cross the lining of the bowell. In leaky gut syndrome, 'bad bugs', parasites, stress and other triggers cause the gut to become more permeable. Large particles, or toxins, that would normally be prevented from moving into the blood sneak their way through the bigger holes and mosey on down to the liver. The poor old liver does its best to deal with these imposters but soon finds its cleansing resources overwhelmed by the sheer volume of nastiness. It ships the toxins off around the body, fully intending to retrieve them later and sort them out when everything has calmed down a little. Only it never really does calm down. Toxins just keep on rolling in, building up around the body, potentially causing immune responses or (at best) just getting in the way of the body's normal functioning. And so one begins to feel headaches, dizziness, fatigue, stress, PMT, anxiety and so on. The list of related problems is fairly lengthy.

It sounds reasonable to me, but the jury is out on whether this is all fact or fiction. For now, I'll try it. The natropath took my blood pressure and it was high, although not dangerously so. Then she had me close my eyes and imagine myself in a relaxing place. I was transported to the beach, face turned into the wind, breathing in the freshness. Bingo. My blood pressure dropped down to normal! I was impressed, but still felt dizzy and had a headache, indicating hypertension is not the cause of all my symptoms. So why not give this alternative therapy a try? If it brings my blood pressure back to normal and saves me living on medications for ever it will have been worth it.

The question is, what must I do to restore my leaky gut to its usual semi-permeable state? Detox, zinc supplement and a couple of interesting looking herbal remedies that kill any bad bugs and parasites dead. In three weeks I go back for another urine test to see if there is any improvement before restocking my gut with probiotics. The natropath anticipates I will rapidly begin to feel better.

So tomorrow I begin the cleansing process. I was hoping detox wouldn't be part of the deal - I've always seen it as a bit extreme - but it doesn't look like being too arduous. Cutting out most of the chemicals from our diet means I'm more than half way there already. I don't drink caffeine, rarely have alcohol, and have been reducing my sugar intake for some time. Now I just need to cut out dairy and wheat for a few weeks.

I might not end up looking any different, but I'm hoping that with all this effort (and expense!) I'll be feeling on top of the world in a very short period of time. Fingers crossed! I'll keep you posted.

trivial i know

I've had a lot on my mind lately, and it seems to have sent me a little loopy. Well not loopy really, just a little wilted. I ended up going home sick half way through Monday, slept all afternoon and night, phoned in sick for Tuesday and slept all morning. My headache has started receding today, although it is lurking around the edge of my eyes yet. Diagnosis Sister Cecily? A case of exhaustion I think. Too many late nights, perhaps too much blogging, certainly too much thinking and too little resting. So I'm off to bed as soon as I've posted here.

You'll be pleased to know I did have one thing lifted from my mind today. Last time I bought Paracetamol I opted for a bottle of tablets rather than blister packs. Somehow the fool proof, child safe, anti tamper lid (that caused my brother to stab himself with a pair of scissors in his attempt to break the seal) fell off in my bag the other day. All the dust lurking in the folds of the bag's fabric migrated into the bottle as all the tablets fell out. I cleaned everything up, collected the tablets and replaced the lid before dipping into the Paracetamol when my head went crazy. But there was only one left. That one tablet was really bothering me and I hunted around in my bag for the extra missing tablet. Nope, it was nowhere to be found so I gave up and chewed my way through a foil of nurofen in the hope of killing the headache.

Today I finally made it to the supermarket to restock on drugs. I know, I know... it's not really safe having such drugs so readily accessible, but it sure is convenient. As I reached for the bottle of paracetamol (which are cheaper than the packs) I saw it. '25 tablets' per bottle.

I know it's silly, and maybe it shows the level of functionality I have regained, but I am so relieved to know what happened to that missing tablet. There never was a missing tablet! There was an odd number of tablets in the bottle. Yay.

I shall rest easier tonight for sure. Especially after taking two of the tablets right now!

girl talk

I am pleased to report I am still alive. Felt kind of strange all night and day, but that was due to a particularly bad dose of dysmenorrhea not botulism. Phew. Having said that, I did read botulism may rear its ugly head up to 10 days after exposure to the bacteria...

OK. This post comes with a warning. If you are male, queasy at the sight or sound of blood, or just not interested in female biology, this might not be for you. Quit reading now. On the other hand, read on if you care dare.

****************

If the Red Tent by Anita Diamant is anything to go by, in ancient times women were well in tune with their sexuality and fertility. They menstruated in synch, withdrawing to the red tent to sit on clean straw and share their lives and their periods, their pregnancies and their loves.

What a long way off that seems from where we are today, when we manipulate our bodies with a pill, dull our fertility, push through the tiredness to fulfill our commitments outside the home, hide our cramps with medications, stem our flow through internal absorption. We are in complete control of our bodies but in the process we have lost touch with cycles and rhythms. We are not so good at embracing our fertility and sexuality.

I was recently interested to read a chapter entitled 'Feminine Hygiene (As Debated, Mostly, by Men)' in The Coming Plague by Laurie Garett. Garett details the commercial development of feminine hygiene products, and in particular tampons, linking their rise with the progress of women into the workplace. To my horror I read that tampons, which are inserted internally, were never subjected to safety tests, not when they were originally made with cotton in the 1930s, nor when super-abosrbant synthetic tampons were produced in the 1970s. By 1980 a surge in the recently described Toxic Shock Syndrome was being linked to these super absorbent, inadequately researched, insufficiently tested tampons. To this day TSS continues to occur and women continue using tampons, albeit with health information enclosed in the packaging.

My new knowledge set me to thinking about the way we are at the mercy of large corporations and their advertising. Women were taken in by tampons because they were promised comfort and security that would help them avoid embarrassing leaks in the outside world. They were out in the public marketplace inching their way forward into roles and responsibilities not previously performed by women. They required a reliable mechanism to control their menstrual flow. Feminine hygiene manufacturers jumped at the chance to meet their need and promoted their products shamelessly and the women jumped at the convenience. The more I thought about it the more I detested being at the mercy of corporations and companies and what they thought I was appropriate for my needs. I felt like a puppet dancing to the tune of whoever it is who says I should be always ready and available for work outside the home. But I kept buying tampons. They were so convenient.

Not long after this my journey took a different turn: I idly followed an unrelated link from Alotta Errata which took me to Treehugger. There I stumbled upon an article similar to 'Go with the flow' and was staggered to read how many pads and tampons end up flushed down the toilet or in landfill every year. Following up on the alternative feminine hygiene products listed on Treehugger, I learned more and more about cotton fabric pads and menstrual cups. Since I couldn't come at washing out my own pads I pursued the cup line of thinking. This 'Menstraul Cup' site was particularly helpful, if a little over zealous in its advocacy techniques. The biggest coup was discovering a dynamic, animated forum discussion that answered every question relating to menstrual cups I could possibly think of.

I don't claim to be an instant convert, but I was curious enough to give it a go. In January I decided upon a Lunette Cup and ordered one from Finland, via the UK, for $50. (Yay! They are now available in Australia) I won't kid you it was easy to use. It took me a couple of months to work up the courage, and another month or so to figure out how on earth to get it in, even with the detailed folding pictures I discovered in desperation!

It turned out getting the cup in was easier a lot easier than getting it out. While Frank was blissfully engrossed in 'The day after tomorrow', I was struggling with my cup, conjuring up new ways to extract it and wondering how I could explain my predicament to medical staff at the Accident and Emergency department. Thankfully it never came to that. And as they say, practice makes perfect. It got easier and easier to use. I find my Lunette so much more comfortable and practical than tampons I would never go back. The cramps are not as bad (except for last night - not sure what happened there), I have almost no problems with PV infections, once the cup is in I don't have to think about it all day (it was fantastic while we were travelling). Plus think of all the money I'm saving on pads and tampons! I love it.

I don't know, it's more than just convenience. Somehow I feel more in control of my body now... not quite getting back to the red tent, but no longer ignorant and at the mercy of unscrupulous corporations. No more landfill. No more expensive products. My periods have been transformed!

botulism: worse than nablopomo bloating

If I should not be here to write my daily NaBloPoMo post tomorrow, it may be because I have succumbed to botulism and am ventilated in ICU.

It is more than likely I won't have botulism, but tonight, when I was cooking up some garlic, onion, zucchini and organic tinned tomatoes to accompany the black eyed pea and quinoa patties, I opened the tin of tomatoes and they smelled strange. More than that, in the tin was a piece of blackened tomato, like it had a worm or rotten bit. By that stage I had already tipped the tomatoes into the saucepan with the afore mentioned vegetables, and I didn't want to waste them. So I kept stirring and hoping all would be OK. However, the strange smell kept emanating from the saucepan. I dipped a finger in to see if the whole thing tasted strange. It didn't, but when I googled botulism I was shocked to discover as little as 1 microgram may be lethal to humans. How many micrograms are in a lick of the finger? More than one I imagine!

I stopped licking my fingers, stopped cooking the tomato and phoned the company and left a message describing the tin contents. I then carefully wrapped the unwashed tin, its lid and the piece of offending tomato in a plastic bag.

And so now I wait. For a phone call from the company. To see if I develop a dry mouth, vomiting (half a tick - nauesous, but not pregnant, before you jump to any conclusions), drooping eyelids (tick - I could do with going to bed earlier) and difficult breathing.

I suspect I'll be OK. And I'm not naming the company because this is what happened to the last company named and shamed for botulism. I will however let you know if I am awarded thousands of dollars. Ha.

ear ear

You know there's a problem when you start thinking it might be worthwhile to steal a single cotton bud from the natural soap and shampoo stall in order to sneak away and clean your ears!

Frank and I were at the Deloraine craft fair this afternoon, and surrounded by all manner of wonderful wares such as handmade paper, merino wool knitted skirts, watercolour paintings, recycled wood furniture and beaded jewellery my eyes lit upon the cotton buds.

Somewhere along the way I fell into the bad habit of cleaning my ears every morning with a cotton bud. I know, I know - the packaging says 'never insert into ear canal' but there is little in life more satisfying than cleaning one's ears when they feel a little clogged.

Two weeks ago my last packet ran out and I have been working hard to resist buying more. I realise it is only a small thing, but the plastic in those cotton buds is not recyclable and I am loathe to continue to use something which will only become landfill. And besides that, it is quite hard to find them in cardboard packaging and I refuse to buy yet another plastic container. Consequently I have been doing without my favourite daily ablution and my ears have become heavy and itchy and altogether uncomfortable. When I saw those cotton buds today I thought I might have gained a temporary reprieve.

Until I realised just how mad it is to steal a cotton bud to clean my ears! I managed to resist, but only because I was distracted by the Australian made echidna puppets and platypus toys.

Is all this environmental fervour really worthwhile? I think perhaps I might be taking it too far!

Update: I snaffled one from work so all should be well for another week or two!

jelly legs

I thought it was a brilliant idea... since I had to miss my usual Thursday evening aqua class due to work, I would attend a morning pump class and (ingeniously) fit in the weekly exercise.

With my tiny 1kg weights I pumped my way through my maiden class, in time with the music, almost on target with technique. Near the end I decided 1 kg was just too easy and I should try 2.5 kg for the last hard track. I made it through most of the song until. I. could. do. no. more and downed those 5 kilograms from sheer exhaustion. At the end of the class I managed to almost-not-stumble across the room to return my equipment. In the supermarket car park I staggered but did not fall under the weight of 3kg of yoghurt and our usual mammoth chocolate supplies. At the car I fell inside the door, a shaking, blubbery mess.

And now I'm expected to work all afternoon? On my feet?

Just whose brilliant idea was that again?!

blah

I was going to post a flowery epistle, but I'm too tired and grumpy, so I shall spare you the misery. Suffice to say I'm spoiling for a fight with the recently returned next door neighbour.

I'd also like to ask local schools to please stop sending me requests for interviews. I've had enough now thankyou. As much as I love myself and love talking about myself, I'm a little bit over it. And I am on holidays after all.

I shall return when my mood has improved and I don't feel so damn tired all the time. (Is this the double shift catching up with me?!)

can I have another piece of chocolate cake?

I decided today was the day to phone for my blood results.

First I ate the final mini Crunchie given to me by a kind neighbour, in case my cholesterol indicated the need to immediately forego chocolaty pleasure.

Next I made the phone call: Total Lipids 4.5 (this is good), HDL or good lipids 1.9 (this is excellent), LDL or bad lipids 2.3 (this is a little high but in view of the other results being so good I don't need to worry).

Last I celebrated with some well earned chocolate.

Oh OK, I made that last bit up, but to my friend who thinks I eat too much chocolate - there is no way on God's green earth that I can give up on it for six weeks! Besides, I'm hardly dizzy anymore.

On another positively chocolaty note, I found this advertisement in our drug book at work the other day. (Stay on the home page for a full overview of the benefits of chocolate)

The health benefits of chocolate being advertised in a drug book? What is the world coming to? Obviously something good! I just want to know who likes dark chocolate that much, and who ever eats only two pieces per day?

And I'm loving the disclaimer - I have no doubt it was written for people just like me.

hope for the future

I went to the doctor today and he was in fact alright - kind of weird that he kind of knew me, but alright. He restrained himself from inviting me to become an Amway dealer or Melaleuca saleswoman, however he could not resist telling me about a good environmental website. He also listened well enough (although when he suggested I should eat more regularly I felt he had missed the whole point of this dizziness being uncommonly strange) and ordered a raft of tests.

In case you're medically minded: (If you're not medically minded and find this kind of thing boring (Mum) skip to the next paragraph!)

• ECG - normal
• BSL - 3.9 as a result of late lunch due to GP running almost an hour late (thus the 'eat more often' comment)
• BP - 144/92 (yes, that's high, but not life threateningly so)
• Urinalysis - positive for ketones (due to muscle breakdown as a result of late lunch)
• Ears - no comment so I'm assuming they were OK
• Blood tests including lipids and thyroid - to be attended tomorrow morning before breakfast

True to form, I started feeling better this afternoon (about the time Robyn phoned and told me I should stop driving immediately if I'm dizzy!), although the dizziness has come back a little now, along with a headache.

When I went to aqua aerobics a few of the ladies were talking about a nasty flu that's going around and causing a lot of dizziness. Chances are this has all been a virus and I panicked for no reason. So I'm a nurse. And I've heard of younger and younger patients having strokes and dying of heart attacks lately. I wanted to cover all my bases.

Anyway, it appears I am not dying. Which is good because tomorrow I have two interviews for school chaplaincy positions. Both for primary schools, one in quite a poor area of the city.

I'm very excited and decided this was just cause for a new outfit - had to get the look right you know. Not too dressed up (need to look as if I'm relaxed and easy to relate to), not too casual (have to look reliable), not too trendy (don't want to look like a try hard), not too drab (yes, I can relate to children and their peer pressures). So I've gone for three quarter black pants, white singlet top and cute little cornflower blue short sleeved cardi. Noice. Now I just need to convince Frank the purchases were absolutely necessary!

I must away and prepare my answers for any possible questions!

healthy determination

Today was a repeat of yesterday. Dizzy head, came home, lay around doing nothing, still feeling dizzy. With a few minor differences.

• I got daring and had someone check my blood pressure at work. Yes it's high.
  

• I cried because high BP puts me at risk of having a stroke. (Such a nurse) This is a scary thought. I'm also feeling fed up with the constant sensation of keeling to the left as if I will fall over. I'm also dreading the prospect of antihypertensive medication should it be required. (I don't think my crying and hyperventilation did anything to help reduce the BP either)
  

• I made an appointment at the GP tomorrow. Even better, I made an appointment with a different GP than last time. Unfortunately I kind of know him and find his attempts to enlist Frank in his latest multilevel marketing venture somewhat annoying. But it was the only appointment I could get at short notice in the practice I want to sign up to! Hopefully this new GP will be more helpful and concerned.
  

• I went for a big, fast walk. Actually it wasn't such a big walk, but it was more than I usually do. I was inspired by my friend who told me about her friend who has quite high blood pressure but manages to control it with exercise. My head felt dizzy for most of the walk, as if I might fall over with every step, but I made it around the circuit of streets I selected.

There is some progress here. It strikes me as ridiculous to know what might be wrong with me but do nothing about it. Even more ridiculous to know how to fix the problem but make no moves in that direction. So I'm lifting the head out of the sand and working towards managing my health more effectively.

nablopononono

Four days to go and nablopomo seems to have caught up with me.

Not that I've run out of things to say. Still going strong there. But I'm not well and I suspect NaBloPoMo has contributed.

I had the whole dizzy head thing again, but dragged myself off to work anyway. When I arrived we were overflowing with staff (very rare) so I asked to be able to go home sick and my wish was granted! I ended up sleeping for four hours this morning, bumming around doing nothing all afternoon and I'm about to crash into bed early tonight too.

This dizzy head thing - what is it? High blood pressure again (I can feel my pulse in my chest and abdomen when I'm just lying down, so quite possible)? Or something less sinister? I found out today there is a form of migraine that manifests itself as dizziness/vertigo?

Whatever the cause, it is most disconcerting to continually feel that I am keeling over to the side. I promise I shall try and go to the GP this week. In the meantime, I need to stop cramming late night writing into the cracks of my life when I really should be sleeping. Thank goodness there are only four days to go. In fact three after this post! Yay.

nablopomo indecision

Now that I'm in the swing of daily blogging (and even Frank is getting used to it) I'm having a little trouble discriminating between what is blog worthy and what is not. For instance, today I would like to tell you about the letter I got from the would-be politician outlining her three-typed-pages response to my letter asking for her take on world poverty and the environment.

But I'd also like to share how moved I am by my friend who is a rough, rough diamond. Her clothes aren't always clean, she comes from the wrong side of the tracks, and she's as rough as guts. On the surface she might not strike you as a particularly good parent - sometimes she yells at her kids in public, they are most often unruly and uncontrolled, course language flows from all their mouths and they don't behave appropriately in church (meaning they fail to follow our bland social norms). But my goodness, her heart... her heart is all mellow softness and kindness. And now, when someone has done wrong by her children and she is struggling with the devastation, her mother heart is coming to the fore. As we talked tonight her sentences were punctuated with love, concern, righteous anger, sadness, longing and faith. She peeled back the exterior shell to reveal fierce tenderness and a determination to help her children through this time.

But it's been a long, hard week and I don't feel too much like writing such a moving post. So maybe I'll tell you about the episode of 'House' I watched tonight (I've never seen it before) and how I sometimes wish we could all talk to our patients like that. And that if I have a thing for any actor it just might be for Hugh Laurie. (He is hilarious. And the contrast of his role in Sense and Sensibility with that of his film wife makes the movie for me!)

But that's a bit trite I suppose. So I'll settle for telling you about Frank and his current cold. He caught it last weekend at camp and has been coughing and complaining since. Complaining nicely I might add. But he does make me laugh! This morning I woke up to find him in bed beside me wearing his puffer jacket - apparently he decided (in the middle of the night) that his cough is worse when his neck is cold. Tonight he has swathed his neck in a scarf and has resorted to hand signals in an effort to rest his poor sore throat. I love my Frankie, but he's such a boy when he's sick! (I ran this past him just in case and he... silently gave it the thumbs up)

succumbed

My local hospital is in the midst of a bout of gastroenteritis. You can't enter most wards unless you are a patient, a nurse, a doctor, a close relative. Or John Howard.

OK, I'm lying about John Howard. He didn't venture into the wards - I mean it wouldn't be cool for the Prime Minister to catch gastroenteritis while on an official visit. So he had to forgo the fantastical photo opportunity to stand instead at the main entrance dishing out fists full of money so we'd vote for him in the election.

But I saw through him.
I also caught gastroenteritis.
Probably from that patient who projectile vomited all over his bedcover, narrowly missing me. (Or was it hearing those election promises that made me feel sick? Note to John Howard: I will not be bought)

Anyway. So I'm sick. I started feeling nauseous last Thursday evening, but it didn't progress into any hard (or wet) evidence of gastro. I figured my cast iron constitution was working double time to defend me against the marauding little bugs.

But then I started feeling T.I.R.E.D. and perpetually sick. I went to the anti pulp mill rally with grave fears for my wellbeing... the toilet queue was long. But still no hard evidence. I took Monday off sick just because I felt grotty, worked yesterday and then. at last. I vomited at midnight last night.

I don't know why I was so happy about that. It was most unpleasant. (And that's before I tell you what ended up in my sinuses...) But I did feel somewhat justified - this is no imagined malady. I really am sick!

Still, just in case it was only tiredness and overextension of my brain (watching Dancing with the Stars until 10:30pm may not have been such a brilliant idea), I toddled off to work this morning lest I be caught wagging without reason.

And then I hit a wall. A brick wall. Of absolute exhaustion. And went home. And slept nearly three hours. (Unheard of in the middle of the day) And I've already declared myself sick for tomorrow. And I shall sleep late. Rest lots. Eat little. (I admit, chocolate may not have been the best snack food I could have chosen over the weekend. Or raspberry licorice sticks)

And study. Maybe.