Psychiatrists as Pieces of Toast?

Well, what am I going to say? Why has it taken me a whole week to write a post? The weather has been unremittingly gorgeous, and I have been unremittingly tired. And busy. And tired. Just finished a whole bunch of editing and am excited to be writing more, thinking about my thesis! I'm excited for the Kachemak Bay Writers Conference, which starts this coming Friday. The keynote speaker is someone I've dearly wanted to meet and know for years now. We would have so much to talk about; I so hope I do get to talk with her.

Almost more importantly, I'm excited I get to go at all.

This time last year, I was at Foie Gras Farm, and I was missing the conference I'd been so looking forward. to. Yes, it's been over a year. And obviously I'm doing at least somewhat better, since I'm here. But how much better are we all doing? I was "inside" a couple weeks ago on the actual anniversary of going down to AZ. Several of my cohorts have gone back inside. The person with whom I've kept the most in touch was doing extremely badly last time we talked and is no longer answering her phone, which is pretty darn scary.

(And not too long ago at all, I was walking on this lake with the dogs.) How I'm doing with the food thing is much much better than last year. Maybe that's not always saying a whole lot but really, it is. I've become expert at showing the weight they want to see but have been 'rumbled' on that a couple times in the Place of No Shoelaces where you don't get to be in charge of preparing for the scale.My lithium levels are good, so I maintain (ha!) that my weight is fine.

And now, I'm about to make a gluten and animal-product-containing analogy. Stand by, and see if you can see these little fish in the unfrozen lake.

Imagine five toast "soldiers" off the same piece of bread dipped into runny egg yolk. If they all get soggy at the same rate, it wouldn't be surprising, right? Now imagine five "toast" soldiers from five different kinds of bread--white bread, wholegrain bread, sprouted multigrain bread, gluten free bread, manna bread, dipped into the runny egg yolk. If these ones all get soggy at the same rate, it might say something objective about the specific viscosity of the yolk, right?

Okay. If you have a mole on your back and five different dermatologists in different places and with different characters say it's a melanoma, would you be inclined to believe them? Are they five different kinds of bread or from a single slice?

Now. If you have certain mental health issues and five different psychiatrists say you need to be taking a certain class of medication in addition to what you're taking already, would you be inclined to believe them? Are they soldiers all from one piece of toast, or might they differ with their respective age, gender, location, training, approach?

I've had the same strong recommendation from five psychs now. Maybe six. With support from other kinds of practitioners too. I would much rather not add a medication and I would much rather not add this class. But then I remember I was against going on lithium, and it's been a godsend. But I wasn't already on other meds then. Okay, actually I was. Still. Why is it different when five dermatologists or surgeons or oncologists tell you the same thing on the one hand and when it's to do with your mental health on the other?

Since mental health issues are now known to have physiological components that can be seen on brain scans and verified in terms of chemistry, many doctors and therapists are encouraging people to think of treatment for these conditions as analogous to treatment for asthma or diabetes or cancer or other chronic health conditions. The fact that there's a continuum from migraines to bipolar to schizophrenia to epilepsy in terms of commonly used medications, the difference only being in the dosage, also strongly suggests the reality and commonality of these conditions. I have to keep telling myself this; the "it's all in your head" story is so strongly ingrained.

With all these conditions also, the meds don't carry all the weight. With all these conditions, whether they're perceived as primarily mental or primarily physiological, it's important to take care of things like diet and exercise, good relationships, a healthy spiritual practice, and other nurturing and healing ways of being. She says.

That said, sometimes in order to be able to do that, you need help getting your chemistry into that space.

I haven't decided to go on this medication for sure. But I do have a prescription. And I do think these advisers come from different pieces of toast; they're not all cut from the same slice. It's been a long time since I've gone on a medication and been in a position to blog about it. If I do go on it, I might just share, if it sounds like something interesting. Wanna see what happens?

Still in the Eye of the Whirlwind/49 Writers Post/Last Delicious Thing

I'm here. The Conference ended yesterday, and I've been immersed in a welter of editing, gardening, packing, tying loose ends: we need to get out of here at about 6am tomorrow.

I have so much to say, about the Conference, about my latest physiological/nutritional events, plans, reflections. My head is bulging with ideas for things to write about and ways to revise writings. I look forward to having the time to say it again.

This morning, I did a recap of the Conference for 49 Writers, the Alaska literary blog for which I volunteer. Check it out:
http://49writers.blogspot.com/2011/06/ela-kachemak-bay-writers-conference.html

We had dinner with dear friends and with Phil's daughter tonight: I managed to throw together some deliciousness in addition to the standard yams and salad.

 It's raw, allergen-free, low-glycemic: coconut nectar is the main sweetener. It's a 'graham-esque' crust with a marzipan topping with peaches glazed with coconut nectar and lemon juice.

Paired with coconut kefir, slightly sweetened with peachy coconut nectar, sprinkled with lemon zest.

So, on the road we go again--I hope to be able to share from Oregon, and I'm packing my camera cable this time!
love to all.

Fall Girl--Recap of 'Poets in Full Meter and Note from the Heart of the Writers' Conference

Happy Sunday! Behind on sleep and bruised (more on that in a moment), I'm up early on the euphoria of the Writers' Conference. You might remember me gushing about last year's conference: it was surely the highlight of my year up to that point. This year, the keynote speaker is Rita Dove, a poet whom I admire and aspire to and see as a role model. In person, she reinforces all of those feelings: if anything, she's even more inspiring in person, as well as extremely kind and approachable, and I'm so grateful to get to be in her presence.

Phil is out bear-hunting (giardia notwithstanding: his level of activity that can count as 'resting' is always astounding) so I'll be biking out to the Conference venue in a little while here. I couldn't even have considered doing that this time last year, so I'm taking a moment to be glad of that: it makes our scheduling differences much more flexible.

Well, I'm holding out on you--I have to tell the story of the Poetry event on Thursday night: specifically, how I stole the show in the first set, but not through my poetry reading!

thanks to Terry for this phone shot

It was an awesome show: poetry, music, dance in various configurations and juxtapositions: crossing the genres and melding them together is such a dynamic and exciting space. As you can (maybe) see from the picture, we were performing in this beautiful studio, with a steep staircase overlooking the audience. Harder to see is that there is art everywhere in the studio, the dominant red-yellow color scheme everywhere; on every step of that staircase, on the wall side, there is a vase or other art object.

Why does this matter? Well, in the first set, very beginning of the show, there were five of us reading, and we made our entries from the top of the stairs, one at a time, until we were all standing there ranged on the stairs (the pic is from a different set). So, I started down the stairs as the second reader--and my foot slipped on the very first step, and down I went, and down, and down, and down, knocking the vases down like bowling pins or dominoes crash-crash-clatter. I had hold of the banister with my right hand and was trying to stop myself, but I had my butt kicked by ten steps before I finally came to a stop half way down, a cascade of vases rolling around the audience at the bottom.

And then I had to pick myself up, read my three poems and stand there for the rest of the set with a straight face! My one regret is that I didn't have a funny one-liner to defuse the tension of the moment when the crashing stopped--everyone looked so horrified, and I'm sure I did too: didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I'm just so glad that none of the artwork broke. As it was, I took a few deep breaths, and just went on and read as if nothing had happened.

I'm fine. My right biceps is super-sore from trying to catch myself all those moments and I have a giant bruise on my butt shaped exactly like the edge of a step. But I've still been doing pushups and working out with no trouble. And I'm still laughing about that fall--that night, after the show, Phil and I practically cried ourselves to sleep laughing about it together.

Before the open mic at the Writers' Conference yesterday, I had the opportunity to share that story with some other open mic participants under the general discussion of 'what's the worst that could happen?' A good share.

Do you ever think of a disaster or accident as a great story in the making? Are you good at coming up with a funny one-liner when something totally unexpected and apparently catastrophic just happened?