January 1st, 2014

This day last year, I said 2012 was the worst year of my life. I also stated emphatically that 2013 would look very different. And it did. But not in a good way. In 2012, I was still working for 5 months of the year. I got to spend 11 days with my soul sister, E., when she visited from Dublin. I was able to run errands, go to the dog park, talk on the phone, and see friends for 9 months of 2012. Unfortunately, that all went away. Now, I can safely say 2013 was the worst year of my life.

The details are too difficult and depressing to describe or dwell on, but neither will I paint a silver lining around this dark life. It has been unspeakably difficult, what didn’t kill me did not make me stronger, and I’m not grateful for the lessons I have learned since being sick. I am a sadder, scared-er, weaker, lonelier person and I’d give anything to go back to the ignorance and energy of healthier days.

However, I am much more aware of things I used to take for granted and I am more thankful than I’ve ever been: For every bird, tree, and arc of sunshine. For every single dollar that I saved before the abrupt halt of income. For every time a snort of laughter escapes me; every day that my legs hold me; and every book, film, song that distracts me. For every time someone vents to me about their life or asks for my opinion or feels they can use my muscle-wasted shoulder to cry on. For every time someone braves the thin ice of chronic illness to ask what life is like for us or see how I am feeling or offer to help, knowing full well they risk breaking through to the deep despair beneath.

Most of all, I am thankful for my family. My father, mother, brothers, sister, in-laws, friends, husband and dogs. (Oh, husband and dogs! I am alive today because of you! And I fight for tomorrow because of you.) Each day that they are healthy brings me solace and I experience stark, unfettered joy at every festive Facebook photo of holiday parties, restaurant dinners and energy-filled activities. So, keep singing, fishing, working, exercising and traveling, everyone! And I will live vicariously… Just, please, promise me that you do it with an eyes-wide-open acknowledgement of how short and fragile our journey is on this earth.

Here is my 2013 wrap up:

January: Was sorely disappointed at the Chronic Fatigue Clinic; saw first private doctor, tried cranio-sacral therapy.
February: Not much except stool and saliva tests.
March: Was sorely disappointed at second rheumatologist visit; saw second sleep doctor; had the 4 best days between September, 2012 and now; Zyrtec trial.
April: Got teeth cleaned; started seeing wonderful physical therapist; started the awful process of getting an oral appliance for sleep apnea which still hasn’t happened, almost 9 months later; Seriphos trial; started Chinese herbs.
May: New nephew R. was born; saw dermatologist; phophatidylserine trial; Nasonex trial; tried Tizanidine; turned 40; dear friend E.S. died far too young.
June: My mother and D. visited; saw cardiologist; tried valarian; started Unisom; Gabapentin trial; added rice back to my diet.
July: My father visited; stopped weekly therapy; stopped phone calls for the most part; stopped Chinese herbs.
August: Stopped eating soy, citrus; added lentils, garbanzo beans; tried Trazodone; stopped all vitamins and supplements; J. and Z. gave me a scooter: my ticket to some freedom.
September: My mother and brother, T. visited; abdominal pain started; husband’s family visited; celebrated 15th anniversary.
October: Brother A. visited; saw ENT doctor; saw “environmental” doctor; saw neurologist; had bad reaction to Unisom; tried Xanax; Zetonna trial; had hellish 2-week repercussions to autonomic testing.
November: Tried low-histamine diet for 5 weeks; methylation pathway, mycotoxin and adrenal tests; started vitamins again and Metagenics shakes; tried iv fluids and caused anaphylactoid reaction; another zyrtec trial; saw allergist; steps per day decreased below 700 and haven’t come back up.
December: New nephew G. was born; Christmas with sister; saw ophthalmologist; started juicing; tried Ativan.

Like last year, there were births, deaths, doctors, drugs, symptoms, setbacks and disappointments. And, like last year, what I see when I look at this is how lucky I am to have family that would travel across the city, country or ocean to visit me in my home and offer love and support, without judgement.

Happy new year to you all. 2014, please look different than 2013 ~ only in a good way.

Hubby sweeping in the new year, a family tradition. :)

Hubby sweeping in the new year, a family tradition. 🙂

Remember the little moments,

like this,

that were good.

Cheers.

~James Gandolfini in The Sopranos R.I.P.

Jingle Jangle

Whatever you did, it worked. Your thoughts, requests, and prayers lifted the beast a little and on December 27th, I was given just enough space to let in the laughter and joy. Pain eased up and, just like that, I was smiling all day long and excited for what 2014 might bring. It didn’t last much more than a day or two, but that was enough. So, to all of you that commented or liked or sent a bit of changing energy out into the universe, THANK YOU! I was given some relief, some perspective and hope for the future.

AND I managed half an hour outside:

Bowie in the Boneyard in December

Bowie in the Boneyard in December

 

Now. Ready? This is why I am going to get better. If you do nothing else today, watch the first five minutes of this video of Glen Hansard playing in Dublin this past summer. And then, if you only have five minutes more, fast forward to the 15-minute mark. I first saw them (The Frames) play in a pub when I was, I think, 17 and spent the next few years going to every gig I could. 23 years later, his music still fills me with an achy, wistful, electric desire to live this short life to the fullest. I will be back in Dublin one day.

Use good speakers. Turn it up- as much as you can tolerate. Dance with your kid -or your dog. Me? I just lie back, close my eyes and jingle jangle my feet a little. And smile. Happy Sunday. 🙂

Calling All Angels

I’d give anything to have just enough life force to get out of bed and have a slow, quiet Christmas… eat a small, simple meal… listen to soft, festive music… have an easy, happy conversation… share genuine, memorable laughs… and watch my husband and sister open a few presents without my vision disappearing, my head exploding, my muscles collapsing, my speech slurring, my ears ringing, my brain swimming, my balance shifting…

This holiday season, please send some good thoughts out into the universe for those struck down by sickness… some healing vibes… some positive energy… some prayers for better days…

That’s all I want for Christmas. A massive outpouring of intention, electricity, hope, empathy. A showing of human solidarity so strong that the cosmos crackles with shared intensity… the dynamo hum of a hundred whispered desires – a potency so overwhelming that there is a subtle shift in the atmosphere… atoms vibrating and realigning… Until this huge chronic weight lifts ever so slightly and lets in some spaciousness, joy, and fortitude.

When I feel it, I’ll know it was you and I’ll reflect that energy back into the sky and pray that, maybe for a moment, everyone’s burden eased a little.

Happy/ Merry Christmas to you all. I miss you and think about all my friends, family and blog family daily. X

image

Calling all angels,
walk me through this one,
don’t leave me alone.

Reblogged from THE-LABYRINTH: Now, Imagine How This Feels…

Now, Imagine How This Feels…

3 DECEMBER, 2013 BY  7 COMMENTS

Imagine that it’s Tuesday, the one day a week where I am lucky enough to attend an Advanced Nonfiction class at Victoria University (VU), and I’m psyched! I don’t have to worry about air-borne fragrances or solvent-based particles from spray deodorants or solvent-fragrance based hairsprays contaminating the classroom air. I don’t have to worry about having to leave the class due to symptoms bought on by breathing in fragrances that other students may have used. I don’t have to worry about the molecules of these toxins sticking to my hair and clothes, making me sicker later on. And I don’t have to worry about sitting in class while wearing my mask and not even knowing if there are solvent or fragrance chemicals emitting from other students into the air of the room (My sense of smell is virtually blindfolded by the 3M mask that I sometimes have to wear to protect my health… If it wasn’t impeding on the ability of my olfactory sense, then sure, I’d be able to breathe it in and smell it, thus warning myself, but not before getting chronically ill. Sometimes for days.).

Me wearing a 3M mask to protect my airways from chemicals

*What a Fashion Accessory*

(Just so we are clear, you know it’s breathing in these chemicals that cause symptoms, not the actual ‘smell’, yes? Of course you do! Silly me for even asking that. Next time, I’ll ask it rhetorically.)

Imagine being chemically sensitive to solvents, fragrance chemicals and the petrochemicals used as ingredients during the manufacture of designer fragrances, the el-cheapo imitations, and in popular deodorants (like Lynx, and Mum), and  getting to go into class each week, safe in the knowledge that (retrospectively) 94% of the time)) people will have made the effort to go free of these products? (Sure the air may smell of scents, due to shampoos, conditioners and roll-on deodorants; and it may even be floating with notes of patchouli and jasmine from products containing essential oils because in our requests to get people to go fragrance free it has been explicitly expressed that it’s preferable for them to use products that contain natural ingredients. I know this is not an ideal situation for some chemically sensitive people but for me, it totally was! An essential oil could never impact on my health in the same way as a spray on fragrance can.)

Fragrance: Designer or Fake; it's still Toxic

Fragrance: Designer or Fake; it’s still Toxic

Imagine that there is a notice in the Student Handbook explaining that some students are sensitive to chemicals and that there are some classes where people will be reminded to be ‘mindful’ of certain chemical-based products.

Imagine the teacher sending out an email the day before to remind the rest of the class to consider my need to breathe air unhindered? Sure, I could wear my mask for the whole class but as many chemically sensitive and immune compromised people know, there are a few problems with this: firstly, the lack of oxygen is not conducive to learning, thinking or contributing to discussion; secondly, there is the limited ability to show facial expressions, therefore, causing a hindrance in communication (not for everyone, a few people, mostly teachers, see past the mask and talk to me as if I am the same as everyone else); thirdly, and most importantly, it can be dangerous in that if there is a lot of fragrance in the room, it then gets on my hair, skin and clothes, and sometimes into the tear ducts of my eyes, but additional to that, if I sit in the room for the whole class, then leave and remove my mask, I become chronically ill due to solvents, petrochemicals and fragrance chemicals being all over me and in my airways. And lastly, what some of you may not know, and I’ve only just recently found this out from the Disability Discrimination Legal Service (DDLS) myself, is that wearing the mask is actually a forced impediment! I have a right to go to class and not wear a mask, just like everyone else. That’s on top of the law that states that it’s Indirect Discrimination to not be able to access the class (or any other area where people have equal access) due to air-borne fragrances.

Imagine the cleaning staff changing to using fragrance free products in the buildings that I use. (Perfume-free Library room and building 10.) And that they are doing this with the intention to change to using fragrance free products in the rest of the university when the other products run out. (Their theory behind this: the chance of fragrance free products impacting on other students health is almost none, the chance of fragrance chemicals impacting on more students health is higher.

Imagine they do the same with the hand soap in the toilets. (You see even if a student comes to school fragrance free, they won’t stay that way if they wash their hands in the bathroom unless the soap they use is fragrance free.)

(Note: Staff at VU have worked every corner of the boxing ring to accommodate and include me in the classes and lectures; and I’ve never had to use the ‘discrimination’ card to force them to fit me in. (I do know that they’ve injected the word ‘discrimination’ right into the main vein of bureaucracy via communications between various departments. All in the name of making shit happen! It’s like they know that I belong there. I really feel like that! Okay, there was this one teacher… but I’m not going to go there, today. This post is about being thankful!)

Imagine how I felt as I went to class, attending to my studies just like everyone else? At times I felt a tad guilty about the trouble people were going too. But do you know what I found? That speaking out about fragrance chemicals and their effects, gives others permission to do the same. No one wants to be a troublemaker. No one wants to complain—or seem to be complaining—about what products people use. No one wants to be seen to be different (for the wrong reasons).

Towards the middle of the last semester, a text went out asking people to be mindful about all staff and students who suffer health problems from these products. And it said that all classes are fragrance free!

I’ve already expressed how much I feel like I belong in this particular learning institution. So much, that I feel as if my experience and my illness have taught others; but more even more so, it’s taught me that that anxiety I feel in the pit of my stomach right before I speak up about the ‘fragrance issue’, that anxiety is a tool. A tool that I can tap into to help facilitate a positive outcome—for me, and/or for others. It could also be a tool that I use to run, hide, squirrel myself into isolation. But no, I use this ‘anxiety’ to spur me on…

Imagine going to class each week and finding that that anxiety has faded into the background. Sometimes mildly humming  back there, ready to remind me to remind people of the boundaries. Imagine it just hangs out on the peripheral of my attention, letting me focus on my studies, 100 percent.

Imagine going to class each week and finding—knowing that there is an air-purifier in the room that a teacher or security staff member has kindly, turned on an hour previously. Imagine that Victoria University Disability Services (VUDS) decide to put the air-purifier onto a timer, just to make sure it goes on at the right time.

Blue Air Purifier Supplied by VUDS

Blue Air Purifier Supplied by VUDS

Now, imagine they put a sign on the classroom door, reminding others that the room is fragrance free and that toxic chemicals contained in personal care products can and do cause and exacerbate symptoms in people who have asthma, chemical sensitivities and those who have immune disorders, and to please refrain from wearing them? Imagine they source that sign themselves, via the Allergy, Environmental Sensitivity and Support Research Association (AESSRA) website, printing and laminating it, placing it up around the building: in the main office and the two low-toxic classrooms.

The Classroom Door with Signs Attached

The Classroom Door with Signs Attached

Imagine that the Professional Writing and Editing Coordinator, along with my help, drafts up a bullet point list of reasons why students could refrain from wearing certain products; what happens to me if I breathe them in (in the short term) and what happens to me if I breathe them in (over the long term); what they could use instead; and of what benefit it would be to them and others if they could do that.

Imagine how validating that would feel…

Imagine VUDs loans out an iPad to me so that I can minimise my exposure to breathing in petrochemicals from the inks in books and on pages. Imagine the possibilities for utilising this as a learning tool? I can take photos of the notes on the board. And I can use it to photograph documents like class room handouts. This way I don’t have to air them later; or curse when the wind blows them away or they get rained on while out airing. OMG, and the books! And the newspapers I can read on it!!!

Imagine one of my amazing teachers goes to the trouble of putting printed material behind plastic for me?

I know, it’s probably a dream, yes?

No, it’s reality.

(And can I just point out that lately my health has been impacted less by printed ink? It’s been a few months since I opened the mail, breathing in ink fumes that are so toxic to my system that just the exposure to the petrochemicals wipes me out for the rest of the day. I still air my mail. Still take precautions. But I’m not suffering such intense symptoms with printed material. (Glossy magazines. Not so lucky. Massive headaches. Small steps, small steps… I’ll get out of here!)

Now, imagine that it’s the end of the last Semester and that I’m two subjects away from owning my Diploma in Professional Writing and Editing. Owning. My. Diploma. Me? Imagine the buzz radiating within. How awesome would that be?

IMG_2147

Now imagine that the weekly email that goes out to the students before classes no longer asks people to remember to accommodate me, Michellina van Loder. No, it asks that students to please refrain from wearing chemicals so VU can accommodate all the students who suffer with this problem…

Imagine that all the anxiety and fear that’s been eating away at me as I collaborate with people to get my needs met, imagine it’s all been worth it. Imagine that it gave others permission to speak up. Others who suffer asthma, headaches, allergies and many conditions that flare when the person is forced to breathe in fragrance chemicals for hours on end.

Imagine this, my reality…

You see for me, this is a really lucky thing, for I don’t have a great support network of friends and family who will go fragrance free for me. Some will go without it for a visit or two. But these people are never really fragrance free because using fragrance is a daily thing for them. It gets into every piece of clothing or furniture they own. It’s in their cars. It’s everywhere, so even when they try, it’s still a problem. (I’m grateful for the few who don’t wear it, won’t wear it.)

So this sense of belonging I feel when it comes to attending classes and being a part of VU, it’s an important and valid part of my identity: a student, a writer, a poet, a professional blogger. It’s all wrapped up, right there!

Fragrance is the opposite of a social lubricant; it’s an emollient that rusts away, seizing up all working parts until things are just fucked. And each time you have a discussion with someone who doesn’t want to go without wearing fragrance, the talking—however gentle the persuasion is—causes friction over time. And that there, the resistance, is the rusty beginning of a solid relationship turning into a wasteland of broken hearts and hurt feelings.

But it’s really great that I have this, and I’m so grateful to the staff and students at VU who are up to speed on this issue. Now, we just need the rest of the Australia to catch up!

IV saline experiment… causes angioedema and histamine release.

I had a total meltdown yesterday. As my throat grew more swollen and I grew more alarmed, I finally put it together that I was experiencing an acute angioedema episode. I didn’t recognise what was going on because I usually get a swollen tongue and lips. On Friday, I chalked the edema up to fluid retention from the saline. The spot deep in my throat under my jaw that I mentioned in my last post always itches when I am having an allergic reaction – it’s the canary in the coalmine of my body – but I don’t pay attention to it as closely as I should. This was a slow cooking reaction: laboured breathing and swollen eyes, fingers and sinuses (stuffy nose) on Friday evening, itchy throat spot and heart skipping/arrhythmia started Saturday (both continue today, Tuesday), flushing/extreme overheating on Sunday, and throat closing on Monday, coupled with what felt like body edema – swollen bowel, abdomen, muscles…

Now I know throat closing/laryngeal swelling calls for me to use my Epipen, but, like I said, I didn’t cop on to what was happening until late in the game. Also, I would really have to be on death’s door to voluntarily inject myself with epinephrine. But I was very, very scared. Hence, the meltdown. I actually said to my husband, “Why can’t I just have a peanut allergy – something I can try to avoid?” I actually said, “Why can’t I JUST have M.E.?!” I don’t say those words lightly and, of course, if I could barter away my illnesses, ME would be the first one to go, but it is terrifying to feel like you have no control over anything and living with the threat of a fatal allergic reaction that can’t be identified is the ultimate loss of control.

I’m too tired to explain thoroughly and scientifically, but, basically, angioedema is the same mechanism in the body as urticaria, only in deeper tissues. If it happens in the tongue and throat and lungs, it can kill you. Often, as in my case, there are no identifiable triggers, so you just deal with it when it happens and hope it isn’t serious. It can present with urticaria or without and it can be as severe as anaphylaxis or very mild. If you want to learn more, Medscape has a very comprehensive set of articles (many tabs at the top with many pages per tab- just click on the next page at the bottom and you will go through them all). All of the better information on these types of conditions is relatively new. When I was diagnosed with idiopathic anaphylaxis 12 years ago, blood tests turned up no allergies, so the doctors washed their hands of me. That was it. When I suggested alcohol as a possible culprit, the doctor was disdainful and dismissive. When I mentioned that most times this happened was during my menstrual cycle, I was ignored. Here’s an Epipen, go away. Nobody knew about mast cell activation or histamine intolerance. And, of course, I was right! With my limited knowledge at the time of all things medical, I came up with the common denominators that made sense: booze, period, ibuprofen.

For an excellent article read this:
“The ingestion of histamine-rich food or of alcohol or drugs that release histamine or block DAO may provoke diarrhea, headache, rhinoconjunctival symptoms, asthma, hypotension, arrhythmia, urticaria, pruritus, flushing, and other conditions in patients with histamine intolerance.”

A few years ago, when I was diagnosed with autoimmune urticaria and angioedema and the doctor warned me (2 years too late) that people with this condition are more likely to have autoimmune thyroid disease, I asked him why the doctors years ago hadn’t looked into this autoimmune component. He said it was unknown then. He said it was something that only recently came to light. The only other thing he suggested was prophylactic treatment with Zyrtec, which I half-heartedly tried for a few months. No mention of H2 antihistamines or mast cell stabilizers. No mention of H3 or H4 or diamine oxidase. No discussion of mast cell activation, mastocytosis, histamine intolerance, low-histamine diet or any tests – whether reliable or not. No interest in looking into acquired angioedema, bradykinin-mediated angioedema or estrogen-dependent angioedema, all of which don’t respond to antihistamines. So, all of us – the patients – are scrambling along the edges of science. I feel like a surfer on an excruciatingly slow-moving wave. I come up with theories and do my own research and I see it mirrored in others’ blogs, but no doctors are accessible to help and no tests are robust enough to firmly diagnose.

For an excellent summary from another ME-afflicted blogger with mast cell problems (as well as EDS), read Jak’s blog: Mast Cells & Collagen Behaving Badly.

Which brings me back to my meltdown. For the most part it was a silent, immobile and tearless meltdown. I was simply frozen with fear. Saline probably caused a massive histamine release – right in the middle of my low-histamine diet experiment. I brought this situation on myself by requesting the saline. I had a reaction to an innocuous substance that is used to treat allergic reactions! Just like I had reactions to the antihistamines that are used to treat allergic reactions.

I can’t live with ME and angioedema and histamine/mast cell issues and sleep apnea and thyroid disease and crippling periods and a headache that never goes away and reactions to so many drugs!!

Fear of my throat closing more while I slept, fear of sleeping without my CPAP, fear of being woken up constantly by my CPAP, fear of taking an antihistamine, fear of not taking an antihistamine, fear of eating things that cause inflammation or histamine release, fear of losing more weight, fear of being on the pill, fear of having to weather my periods off the pill, fear of living the rest of my life in pain, fear of being in so much pain I have no choice but to take painkillers. What if I break a bone? What if I’m in a car accident? And then, swiftly on the heals of that thought, the fear that sent me into a tailspin: What if I have to go to the hospital? IV saline… IV painkillers… IV Benadryl… Contrast dye… Anesthesia… Surgery… What do I do when I’m older and I can’t avoid some procedure? When I break an already-osteoarthritic hip? What do I do if my body reacts to everything? I’m dead.

Fear of dying. Fear of living in this fear.

My answer to all of it was to throw caution to the wind and eat a bunch of forbidden histamine foods.

This is a perfect segue into part II of my diet post. I realise you are all on tenterhooks waiting to read it, but not yet, not yet.

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The most recent article describing IA (idiopathic anaphylaxis), written by Karen Hsu Blatman and Leslie C. Grammer, explains the distinction this way:

Patients with IA-A experience urticaria or angioedema with upper airway compromise such as laryngeal edema, severe pharyngeal edema or massive tongue swelling without other signs of systemic anaphylaxis. Patients with IA-G suffer from urticaria or angioedema with bronchospasm, hypotension, syncope, or gastrointestinal symptoms with or without upper airway compromise. Reference.