Miracles Are Not Limited to the Righteous

Ok. So. Yesterday I sat down to record my story of mormonism and why I left the church. It ended with me sitting in my living room riled up asking, "How is it that I can go in a room and talk to myself and come out really upset?" This is the story of how that happened.

I want to preface this by saying that I don't believe in GOD. Specifically the old man sitting in outer space watching to see what I do with my genitals. Pervert! I am an Earth person. I am no more important to the planet than a whale out in the ocean. I am also just as important to the planet as one of the beautiful redwood trees in California (that I still haven't seen yet). I believe we are all connected by energy. Even the rocks and bugs. We all have energy. I believe in science. I don't have a religion. I don't want one. Don't try to convert me. Please. I am very vulnerable and defensive about spiritual things right now. Ok. Here is goes.

When I was a child about 6 years old I had Rheumatic Fever. Everyone thought I was going to die. My mom still laments how hard it was to keep me in bed. The doctor said I had to stay in bed. My grandparents brought me gifts and visited me at my bedside. The needles! To diagnose me they had to try 7 times before they drew blood. I must have been dehydrated. Anyway, I had the faith of a child. I told my Mom that if the missionaries gave me a blessing I would be healed. So, the missionaries gave me a blessing and I was healed. When we went to the doctor for the follow up he said that he must have misdiagnosed me. I don't believe that. I believe that I had Rheumatic Fever and was healed. I believe there is a scientific explanation. I don't know what it is. Perhaps I responded really well to antibiotics? Perhaps my positive energy and belief in combination with the antibiotics created what seemed to be a miracle. I don't know.

That wasn't the only miraculous experience in my childhood. In the past people have used my childhood miracles as evidence that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is THE one and only true church. I discovered that this is offensive to my sensibilities (thank you Jane Austen). A miracle is something that happens that is not readily explained. I experience miracles every day. The light switch still blows my mind. Especially because I have taken one apart and seen how simple it is. To me it is proof of the energy in the Earth. It is a miracle to me that someone figured out how to harness it. I don't really get how it works. I know I could learn how it works. But I may forget again. Maybe I have learned before! I prefer to embrace my every day miracle. Miracles are not only in the lives of good people or religious people and certainly not only in the lives of members of one particular religion. Miracles are things that happen to everyone. What makes it a miracle is the way we choose to see it.

I did experience a miracle as a child. It was beautiful and wonderful. I am grateful. I don't worship any deity. I own my spirituality and my beliefs. I claim my miracles. I claim my spirituality. I respect everyone else's right to do the same.

The 11th article of faith of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints states:
We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, or what they may.

I am learning to keep the good things I learned. That article of faith is something that I believe in. I guess I would edit it to read:
I claim the privilege to worship no one or anyone, according to the dictates of my own conscience, and allow all beings the same privilege, let them worship how, where or what they may.
This journey is deeply personal, joyful and painful, and a whole lot longer than I realized. Processing this may take a lifetime.

Here's a picture I took of my mom at the beach. This is what a miracle looks like to me. Isn't it beautiful? :)

Prehistoric (1960's)

Prehistoric in this context is before I was born on December 31, 1970. Before I was conceived sometime in February 1970 would definitely qualify. It is to describe the world I was born into.

My true core beliefs lean toward the woo woo. What is woo woo? Woo woo is stuff that makes the average person pause and ask if that is real or get defensive and state that it is not. The reason I explain this is because it will affect the way I explain things. I have also decided that it's not surprising for someone who was raised Mormon. Mormons believe in miracles. They believe in angels coming down to talk to people. They believe in receiving revelations from God. They believe in a lot of woo woo stuff. The difference between their woo woo and my woo woo is that Mormons believe in a hierarchy that can place rules on woo woo. I don't. I believe that we all get to make our own rules and believe whatever we want.

My parents are both products of the South. They both left the South before great progress was made. They both arrived in Arizona independent of each other in 1955. Arizona has been considered the wild west. There are a lot of things people don't know about the wild west. Yes. There is Tombstone and the famous stories of Wyatt Earp. There is also deep seeded racism. People are so taken away by desert sunsets and cowboys that they don't seem to notice it. I am old enough to remember that the only reason that Arizona has Martin Luther King day is because the Superbowl was boycotting Arizona and wouldn't come if they didn't accept the holiday. Another thing most people don't think about when they talk about the wild west is that is was largely settled by Mormon pioneers. When Brigham Young settled what is now Utah he sent settlers out in all directions. They originally planned to take over a lot more of what was Mexico and is now the Western United States than they succeeded in obtaining. Really, it was a total loss because there is no country of Deseret. They settled for the state of Utah in the United States of America. But that is another story. Because of that story, there are a LOT of Mormons in Arizona. Later I will have to add sources for all of this information but for now you get the memories of my studies. I don't think my parents were aware of much of this information before I was born.

Prehistoric mostly equals 1960's Phoenix, Arizona. Maryvale to be exact which is about an hour drive from the Arizona Mormon nucleus of Mesa.

Pre 1970's I don't believe my parents really knew anything about Mormons. They may have never even heard of them.

Father:
I have learned a lot more compassion for my father in my life. I still have a lot of emotional triggers associated with him and I have embarrassing outbursts when those triggers get activated. I was always told that he was 4th of 6 children. I learned last year that he was actually 5th of 7 children. There was a brother who died as a baby that as far as I know didn't have a name. My fathers mother died when he was 6 years old. His dad did the best he knew how. The kids were split up between relatives. They were not very well off. They had an outhouse. They didn't worry about getting a birth certificate until it was required for something. He argued with his sister about what year he was born until the day she died. I guess that means he won. He says he was born in 1940. My father was a sickly child who spent much of his time sick in bed, sometimes in the hospital. He was sent to Arizona to live with relatives when he was 15 in hopes that the desert air would heal him. He did meet a good doctor who cured him from lead poisoning. Oh. I forgot. Those relatives were Mormon. My father was raised Southern Baptist. I have an idyllic image in my head. The family would all see each other each week at church and then have a pot luck. He grew up playing with cousins. I didn't have that. It sounds dreamy. The Mormon relatives had strict rules. As I have learned Mormon history I have learned that the religion was a lot more strict in the beginning and has adapted to society over time. He was not willing to follow those rules and ended up on the streets of Phoenix. So in one years' time he went from living in Florida to Arizona, from deathly ill to healthier, from having a home to homeless. He was good at finding mentors and opportunities. He worked for a man who owned a drapery company and hung draperies in fine hotels and homes in Phoenix. He managed to buy a brand new Corvette. When he proposed to my mom at the age of 21 he asked if she would rather have a ring or a house. She chose the house.

Mother:
My mother's parents met as preteens (in Kentucky or Iowa, I forget) and bonded over their abusive fathers. They grew up and got married. They waited to have children until they were in their late 20s. They were very progressive by the standards I was raised with. The story is that my grandma was pregnant with my mom. It was February in Chicago and she was varnishing the floor of their home. (I would love to ask her why.) I guess they didn't know better back then? It was 1940. My mom was born at only 5 months gestation. It is a miracle she grew up to be a mom! She had to stay in the hospital until she was 5 pounds. She lived in an incubator. My grandpa said that she was smaller than the palm of his hand when he was born. She was the center of their world until she was 5. On her 5th birthday she received a baby sister. She saw it as neglect and ran away from home. Fortunately she was found and was fine. Her family moved a lot. Her father changed jobs a lot. Her mom was strict. My mom was very smart. She spent a lot of her upbringing in California. When she was 13 she got a baby brother. When she was 15 her family moved to Arizona. She and my dad were in the same high school for a little while. She was smitten. He was tall with dark hair and blue eyes. He looked the part of her English dreamboat. (I don't see it. haha) She was a pettite irish redhead with freckles and he wasn't interested. (He was also 15. What did he know?) She graduated high school and joined the army at 18. She was a nurse. There wasn't really a choice back then. She met a man, fell in love, got married and had a baby. Back then that was grounds for discharge. She did manage to get an award before all that happened. The man she married didn't appreciate the gift he had received in my mom. He sent her to live with her parents while he was transferred. He was to send for her and my brother after he was settled. Instead he sent her a letter telling her he wanted a divorce. They never saw or heard from him again. That was 1961.

Since she had seen my dad last he had some health issues, almost died, lost his hair, and was told that he would never be able to have children. I am not sure how they reconnected. They will have to write that story. But when he learned she had a son he thought this was his chance to have a family. So, they married in January 1962 in Nogales, Mexico. I come from humble people. My grandma told them to go to Mexico to get married and she would have cake for them when they returned.

Oldest Brother:
My oldest brother was raised in a time when children were to be seen and not heard and not speak unless spoken to. Spare the rod, spoil the child. Big boys don't cry. He had mental health issues that I believe came from his biological father. I don't really know. He had a lot of energy and needed a lot of attention. I really think physical touch is his love language. My dad was not raised to express love from what I can tell. He knew how to express anger. He often expressed it on my brother. This brother was born a full 10 years before I was so my dad had 8 years to practice on him before I came along. I am told that he has always been a lot nicer to me than he was to my brothers or even my mom. It created an undercurrent of jealousy and resentment in the home. Being a little angel is a mixed message. It means...dad is nicer to you, dad doesn't hit you, mom and brothers are jealous of you, etc... I remember once being spanked with a rolled up newspaper. My brother scoffed when I cried. My mom couldn't look at me. That's when I started crying while looking in the mirror. I wasn't alone when I looked in the mirror. My brothers were spanked with a piece of lumber. Not a branch from a tree. It was an actual 2"x4" board that had been cut to size for disciplining unruly boys. This was not unique to my dad. My brother was also paddled by the principal at school. My mom knew something was wrong. She tried to put my brother in a special school but my dad pulled him out. The public schools didn't know what to do with my brother. He ended up in remedial classes and labeled as a problem child. He didn't have a low IQ or autism. Maybe ADHD. They were way off from what he needed. I don't know what he needed but my mom was sure they weren't doing it right. I didn't understand before but there were no resources for her back then. Her mom wouldn't let her move home with 2 small boys. There were no shelters. The police didn't care. She had no money of her own. She was doing the best she knew how. I realize now that she was always looking for help. She just never found it. I think that explains her religious search.

Middle Child:
My parents were really surprised when less than a year after marriage my mom turned out pregnant! I guess doctors don't know everything. My dad had legally adopted my oldest brother and changed his full name. Now he was expecting another child. It was also a boy. He was the chosen one. Like Isaac of the old testament. He would carry on the family name. My dad would one day be rich and this son would carry his legacy into the future like the Rockafellers. That's the way it seemed to me. The problem was that my dad thought he was lazy. Dad beat up my oldest brother, and sometimes the middle child. My oldest brother beat up the middle child. The thing about the middle child is that he had the soul of a flower child. He was born a romantic. He embodied the spirit of the 60's. Peace and love. Imagine by John Lennon is what I imagine as his soul song. He loved my mom. Everyone loved my mom but you could see he loved my mom. He was my safe place sometimes. I could go and sleep in his bed snuggled with him and feel safe. He was 7 years older than me. We both wet the bed. That seems funny to me now. He was an average child in most respects. Dad had really high expectations for him.

Sometime in the 1960's my dad became a long haul truck driver. The way my mom describes it was like the best of times and the worst of times. While he was away she would have freedom but never enough money. When he was home they would fight. She tells great stories of waiting for the boys to be asleep and then drinking Boone's Farm Apple Wine with her girlfriends to unwind. There were some good memories with my dad too. They would watch Star Trek while eating popcorn and drinking beer. The pictures of my mom look like idyllic 1960s. She wanted to be an actress and I know she could have been in the right circumstances. She did plays and went to college when she could. In a lot of ways she was a normal housewife experiencing the same things that a lot of women in our neighborhood were going through.

It is not my intent to portray anyone as a bad person. All of the people in my story are humans doing the best they knew how with the situations and experiences that life presented them with.

In the beginning...

I was Mormon before my memories begin. Except for one random memory of a memory. I remember remembering my mom giving me a bath in the kitchen sink. That's why I need to record my memories. I don't seem to keep them forever! 

My parents found the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints when I was 2 years old. I do remember when we were sealed for time and all eternity. So, you could say that my memories begin with a beautiful ceremony. I do love ceremony.

Mormons believe that when they are sealed in the temple by the proper authority and the participants keep their covenants until they die, relationships continue after this life. We can all be together again in heaven. Isn't that appealing? There are a lot of conditions and contradictions but that basic belief is what keeps people coming and getting baptized. The belief of being together forever in a mansion in heaven.

In Mesa, Arizona is a representation of Solomon's temple. It is one of the older temples in the Mormon Church. It has always been a special place for me. It is on acres of green grass. Every spring we would go sit on the lawn and watch a theatrical reenactment of the life and resurrection of Jesus Christ. But the most special day in that temple happened when I was 3. Almost as soon as we entered the building I was swooped away by a chorus of angels. All of the people who work in the temple dress all in white from their shoes to their underwear and the bows in their hair. It seemed to me that they all had white hair too. That lent to the angelic atmosphere. I don't remember how many workers were dedicated to my care but I felt like the center of their world. They took me into a room with toys and dressed me all in white like them. There wasn't time to get bored before they took me to see my family. They were all dressed in white too. My mom, my dad, my two brothers. They all knelt around a beautiful marble altar with a velvet cushion. I was the only one that sat on top. Everyone smiled. Everyone was happy.

That's the end of the memory. I wish that was my family life all day, every day. The tranquility and happiness in that room on that day, when everyone was smiling. 

That wasn't real life at all.

But it does help explain why the temple has always been special to me. It was better than Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny all rolled into one. Day dreaming of living in paradise with everyone I love, happy all the time, having everything I want and need.  And when you go in the temple, everyone is on their best behavior. No raised voices. Sometimes you run into old friends. The decor in the temple is finer than anything we ever had in our own home. It really did feel like a slice of heaven. 

Ignorance really is bliss...If you want to maintain your ignorance you probably want to stop reading my blog posts. I am getting ready to share some very uncomfortable truths.

 

The BEST part of having Dysautonomia is...the Facebook groups

When I was diagnosed with Dysautonomia I couldn't wrap my head around it. The doctor had to repeat it 3 times, spell it and write it on a piece of paper. Then he told me to go home and google it.

I am not going to lie. I had a lot of judgement about him after that visit. I did google it. I watched YouTube which made it seem like nearly everyone with Dysautonomia was a teenager. But still I enjoyed watching their videos about how they dealt with it. I didn't have a guidance counselor to help me out.

Then I found Facebook groups. Dysautonomia is super organized on Facebook. It's awesome. One of the Facebook groups is just for writers. One is for musicians. I belong to both because I am both. I was so involved in the beginning. Then I got distracted by new diagnoses. But now I am back. Kinda.

I have an affinity for words. That's why I write blog posts. Reading 500 pages in one day used to be normal for me. Dysautonomia has taken that from me. I am hoping temporarily. It now takes me a couple years to get through a 200 page book. I listen to audible but lately I have a low tolerance for that too. If I find an article that I find interesting I skim it for the parts that I REALLY want to read. If a facebook post is too long I can only read the beginning. Writing hurts my hands. I often misspell words. Spelling used to be easy. Nothing is easy anymore.

But I am still here and I still enjoy words. They are beautiful.

Surviving Suicidal Ideation

On the morning of Monday, September 25, 2018 I was awoken earlier than usual by horrible painful depression. This wasn't your ordinary "I am sad today" depression. This wasn't even the clinical depression that lasts a long time. This was a "this hurts too bad to live through" depression.

I live in the basement of my daughters house. My daughter, her husband and her 4 children live upstairs. I live in the basement with my husband and cat. It is a nice arrangement. We have our own kitchen, bathroom, living area, guest room and office. There are boxes around because after 4 years I still haven't finished unpacking and I have trouble keeping up with the activities of daily living so I have piles of clutter on every available table top. But it is a nice home, a comfortable home.

On this morning. I was crying from the emotional turmoil. No one else was awake and I didn't want anyone around. So, I tried to keep my wailing at a minimum. The point is that I live in a house with 7 other people and a cat. All of whom would be very unhappy if I took my life. They would prefer that I wake them up. One of my pet peeves is waking people up. I don't like to bother them and make them grumpy. I had to wake my children to go to school for years. Two of them really didn't like it. I don't do it anymore.

There are others outside of my house that don't want me to die. They would want me to call them and wake them up.

When I feel the "I want to leave the planet" kind of pain that I had that morning, I won't reach out to anyone. I don't want to share that pain with anyone. It is too much. It hurts too bad.

Fortunately the intensity decreased after a couple of hours. Then everyone woke up. I was no longer alone in my pain. Ending my life no longer felt like an option. But the depression didn't go away.

The next day I started a 50 day challenge that I had signed up for.
These are the rules:
1. Have an intention
2. Each day I ask my GUHP (god, universe, higher power) to give me one thing to do that day to help me with my intention
3. I would be in a messenger group with others doing the same thing for accountability.
Up until it actually started, I didn't know what my intention would be.

My intention was: to stay on the planet.

The timing was perfect.

I didn't keep my struggle private. I talked to friends and family. I received an outpouring of love and lots of phone numbers.

My GUHP changed to support me. It had been the Earth. It became the Stargate. I later realized that change was to support my journey. The Earth wanted me to stay on the planet. The Stargate gave me a choice. I could stay or go. It is always important that I have freedom of choice. Rules suffocate my spirituality.

I want to be well NOW!!!

My word this year is ACCEPTANCE.

That doesn't mean that I am not fighting for my life. It means that I am striving to accept the process even though it doesn't work as fast as I would like.

On January 17, 2017 I went to the Emergency Department with tachycardia and fatigue. I wanted a pill that would fix my problem so I could go to work the next day. Guess what. That pill doesn't exist. I spent the next 8 months looking for diagnoses and cures before I accepted that I couldn't return to work.

I have securities licenses. What that means is that I worked very hard to become a Registered Representative that can trade stocks, bonds, mutual funds and other financial securities in the USA. It took months of study to get those licenses and I enjoyed my job. There is a condition that comes with those licenses. If they are not held by a broker they will expire and I will have to take the tests again if I want them back. The Securities and Exchange Commission will allow 2 years without a broker before they expire. Those 2 years are up at the end of 2019. So, I am hoping to find health and return to work this year.

Some doctors are better than others. There is an amazing Emergency doctor that I encountered during my process. He told me that there is probably a chronic illness that I have that hasn't been diagnosed. I have so many diagnoses already. I have very few answers. My body doesn't like modern medicine. It is rejecting drug after drug.

I have been eating a whole food plant based diet with no animal products, oil, sugar or processed foods for over a month now. I am avoiding GMOs and flour. I make all of my food because I have so many rules. I would be salt free but because of Dysautonomia, I can't do that. I want to be well already. I woke up today at 1:50am in so much pain. My body hurts so bad. In November I went on 30 minute walks almost every day. I haven't been well enough to do that since Thanksgiving.

Here is a list of my diagnoses:
Sarcoidosis
Type 2 Diabetes - treated by an insulin pump
Dysautonomia
Fibromyalgia
Gastroparesis
High Blood Pressure
Tachycardia
Fatty Liver
Irritable Bowel Syndrome
Acid Reflux
Asthma
Chronic Dehydration - treated by twice weekly fluid infusions
Migraines
Cluster Headaches
Sleep Apnea
Teeth Grinding
Chronic Fatigue
Small Fiber Neuropathy
PTSD - anxiety/depression

I may have forgotten something.

I am not giving up. This post is probably more to remind me of that as well as to keep my promise to myself to track my monthly progress.

My taste buds are changing. I am a VERY picky eater. I told myself that I have to eat all the foods, even if I don't like something, I am going to try it. I have noticed that it is getting easier. The healthier foods are beginning to taste better to me.

I am working my way through the How Not to Die Cookbook from front to back. It is teaching me how to cook differently.

This past Monday I saw a new Gastroenterologist who told me that he wants me to go on a diet of lean meats and diabetic protein shakes. I didn't like that. He wants to see me again in 3 months. I told him that I am going to stick to my plan and in 3 months we will see if I am better, worse or about the same.

On Thursday I saw my pulmonologist. She said that my lungs are beautiful. There is no sign of Sarcoidosis in my lungs. That was confusing because I don't feel any better. It is good news though. She said that I still have Sarcoidosis. There was proof in my 24 hour urine last August. My calcium was very high. She said that I do not process calcium or vitamin D properly. She told me to avoid supplements for those nutrients and stay away from calcium rich foods that are not vegetables. She says that I need some calcium so it is good to get it from vegetables That sounds like support for my new lifestyle. :D In other words....No dairy. I am already doing that. I have recently seen kidney stones on my abdominal CTs. That is evidence that I don't process calcium correctly. Fortunately they aren't large enough to cause pain. She also told me to start avoiding so many CTs. They may do more harm than good. She is a good doctor (in my humble opinion). I don't have to see her again unless I feel like I need to. We did not schedule a follow up. Yay! One less doctor.

5'9" tall

199.6 pounds (down 11.4 pounds)

42.25" waist around navel (down 2.75")

Whole Food, Plant Based Eating - My New Hope

I am thinking of taking before pictures today. I cannot tell you how many times in my life I have taken before pictures. It is a LOT. A really BIG number. I can tell you how many times I have taken after pictures. Zero. I am continuously looking for improvement.

There are many reasons for this. One is that my health has been on a continuous decline pretty much since birth. One is that doing the same thing day after day is not in my nature. The reason that stands out is that it is difficult to appreciate my body for how it is today. 

So, while I am starting a new program, (and I am going to tell you ALL about that), I am going to take time to appreciate the beauty of my body and how amazing it is.

Let's start there. 

Regina Spektor sings in her song Folding Chair:

"I've got a perfect body, though sometimes I forget,
I've got a perfect body cause my eyelashes catch my sweat."

I am going to tell you what makes my body perfect. This is difficult because it is more in my nature to tell you everything that makes it imperfect. Everything that is wrong. But that is not the purpose of this exercise.

My oxygen saturation is nearly ALWAYS above 90%. That is miraculous with lung disease.

I am a dancer. I have had multiple neurologists watch me do their tests and say, "Are you a dancer?"

My eyes, hair, skin are not all one color. When I was little my mom said my hair was calico. It has been naturally red, blonde, brown and white. I have unnaturally made it various other colors too. My blue eyes have hints of brown and green and gray. I don't know what to call my skin color. It has pink undertones and lots of spots. Society calls me white but I have some white hair now and some white in my eyes and my skin is not that color. I AM a rainbow. 

My body wants to heal. It tells me immediately when it is unhappy. I recognize that things are wrong before the medical community does. My body talks to me.

My body wants to dance and sing and hike the grand canyon. My body has dreams. My body is a fighter. 

I was not born in my natural state. I was born sick. My natural state is health. I have been trying to get there my entire life.

I think I finally know how. 

The skeptics will say, "Come on Susie, how many times have we heard this. How many diets and exercise programs and supplements and medical professionals have you tried already?"

I have travelled across the country for help. I have seen so many doctors and even people outside of mainstream western medicine. If you could buy health I would have it. I have read countless books and blogs. I have watched YouTube videos and documentaries. 

What crazy thing am I trying now?

A Whole Food, Plant Based Diet (WFPB)

I know, I know, I tried it before. And you know what? My health was better then. 

I understand now why I quit. In episode 6 of the iThrive documentary series it explains how our cravings are there for our our survival. Getting through the initial craving phase is not the end! Periodically our brain will say, "Hey, remember that amazing food we haven't had in a long time? The one with a lot of calories that tasted really good? We need that. We need that right now! Go get it now!" It can happen months or years later even if you haven't been cheating. It is a biological function to ensure our survival. It reminds us of high calorie food sources. It doesn't make me a bad person or mean that I have no will power. It's simple science.

This time I have more knowledge and resources. I am going to document my progress and share my resources. 

What is different this time? 

I am going to avoid all animal products, oil and processed foods. They all recommend avoiding salt but because I have Dysautonomia I cannot do that yet. I hope to get to the point where I can but for now I take salt capsules. 

Last time, I ate processed foods and used oil and I think I ate too many grains. They say that if you are WFPB and aren't losing weight to cut the oil. 

Last time, my motivation was to lose weight and gain energy. This time, my motivation is survival. I want to live. 

Last time, I started because I watched the documentary Fat Sick and Nearly Dead so I was drinking a lot of juices. This time, I am limiting my juice intake. I am not cutting it out but I am focusing more on whole plants.

This time, I feel like I have a lot more knowledge. From everything that I have tried I have learned. I have learned about the human body. I have learned about myself. 

To prepare for this I was introduced to the Medical Medium and Mastering Diabetes and iThrive. It was in the iThrive facebook group that someone introduced me to the How Not to Die book. That was very impactful. I have been listening to books on Audible. After I listened to that one I bought the matching cookbook. Then I listened to Eat to Live and now I am finishing up the China Study. I never wanted to read that book because I don't like reading scientific papers even though I love science. But the book has been better than I anticipated. 

I am so grateful to all the people that have been working on this research so that I can benefit from the information. 

My last animal meal was on Wednesday, December 5th, 2018. Today is December 13th so I have been doing this for a week without cheating on purpose. I say it that way because as my eyes are opened I realize that there are things that I don't want to put in my body in places that I don't expect. Like corn syrup in gummies that I chew to avoid a virus or sugar and oil in the pasta sauce I bought. After my eyes are opened I don't use that product anymore. 

Last Wednesday, my husband and I went out for cheeseburgers and french fries. I had fry sauce (if you're not from Utah, it's basically ketchup mixed with mayo) and a chocolate/vanilla twist ice cream cone. That night I was in so much pain that I contemplated going to the Emergency department of the local hospital. Why didn't I? I didn't want to bother anyone, I was tired, I was in pain, I am a complicated chronically ill person and don't have a lot of faith in Emergency doctors finding the answers I need. So, I tossed and turned all night. 

The next day I woke up determined to figure out what was wrong and fix it. I had heard several times about water fasting. I knew from experience that not eating decreased the pain. I decided I would still have my coffee but I wouldn't eat until I could figure out what was going on. The pain was in the left upper quadrant of my abdomen. I know that is the location of the spleen and the liver. I know I have fatty liver and I could have granulomas from Sarcoidosis in my liver. I also know that my Sarcoidosis is worst in my lymphatic system. I had read that an enlarged spleen is fairly common in Sarcoidosis and that sometimes it needs to be removed. I did some Googling. It turns out the spleen is part of the lymphatic system. That makes sense. What kind of doctor takes care of a spleen?  I had my infusion that day so I asked my nurse. She said she thought it would be a hematologist and recommended one for me. I Googled it and she was right. 

I called my primary doctor and asked her to order a CT of my abdomen. I also called the Hematologist and asked for an appointment. They said I needed a referral. So, I called my doctor again and asked for a referral to the Hematologist. My doctor ordered the CT and sent the referral. I called the Hematologist office again to ask for an appointment. They said that he couldn't help me because I have Sarcoidosis. They said that if I had Lymphoma they could help me. I argued and explained about the spleen. They finally succumbed to making an appointment but made sure to point out that the doctor doesn't help people with Sarcoidosis. They recommended a Pulmonologist or a Rheumatologist. I explained that I have seen both of those doctors and that they can't help in this situation. There were lots of tears. I felt like they were telling me they didn't want to help me because I have a rare condition. I finally found the name of a Hematologist that treats people with Sarcoidosis but by then I was done for the day. 

The next day I had my CT done. It said my spleen was normal and that I had fatty liver. It confirmed that my lymph nodes were still enlarged. I cancelled the appointment with the Hematologist that didn't want to see me. I ended my fast with a smoothie on Friday evening. The pain was gone and so was my determination to receive medical care. 

I was fully 100% committed to a Whole Food, Plant Based diet. My new hope. My only hope. 

Hope is so important. When you are chronically ill, hope is in short supply. When your body rejects medication after medication and your insurance denies the only remaining treatment option, hope feels gone. 

On November 13th my mom shared a link for iThrive. I thought it was an MLM she was doing so I clicked on the link and signed up not knowing what it was because I wanted to be supportive. It ended up being a documentary series. They emailed me a link to a new episode each evening for 9 days. I watched them. Then I found myself not wanting to wait for the next episode. On the last day I bought the series. It came with a free copy that I gave to my mom. It changed my life. I started making little changes right away. 

In the one week I have been doing this completely I have noticed lower blood sugars, lower blood pressure and a lower heart rate. That is promising. :D

5'9" tall

204 pounds

(started at 211 pounds on 11/18/18)

45" waist around navel