"She Looks Ten Years Older" -- Consequences, and the Bind

Although what follows is about consequences of illness/addiction, I hope it will be of interest to writers as well as people interested in healing and honesty.
Every writer learns to manage a multiplicity of points of view: to think within her own head, and within the head of someone observing her, and within the head of someone she's observing. Any person could do with this same ability. Any person who's aging, or sick, or struggling with an addiction, could do with learning this, too. People in this category are precisely the people who can maintain an unrealistic perception of ourselves (yes, I include myself) and our abilities. For example, Phil's dad fell off ladders and into creeks in his later years, because his perception of himself as all-capable physically never got updated as he became eighty-something with blown-out knees and a triple bypass; which is why my grandma, formerly super-active, is beyond bitter and frustrated at her confinement to a wheelchair.

once you're in the vortex...

So, to forestall any backsliding from me based on claims that there's nothing wrong, that everyone's making much ado about nothing, that bmi guides are arbitrary and silly and what are you talking about 'dangerous,' I'm going to lay it out there. There are consequences to the 'mandatory intervention range' prize, and I'm going to share them here--the ones I can remember (see below)--as part of holding myself accountable. 
These are things I am not willing to admit to anyone out loud. I'm admitting them not out of narcissism but a desire for clarity and completeness, and to help.
There's also a major bind, which I'll also mention.

Consequences
- Physical strength is a prime area of mistaken self-perception. I can do all my regular bodyweight exercises fairly well, so I'm just as strong as ever, right? But stepping out of my own borders, I'm having trouble opening heavy doors, or lifting 15lbs above my head, carrying big grocery bags, etc.
- Soreness, fatigue. Yes, my muscles get and stay more sore. Yes, I get really tired. And I'm not abusing stimulants as I was in the spring, so no getting around it.

- Memory loss--I'm famous for my memory, and have always been glad to rely upon it. Lately, though, I've felt like an Alzheimer's patient, between finding myself somewhere and wondering what I'm doing there, and losing a word, and not remembering what comes next in a process. All short-term memory stuff. But yesterday I cried when I couldn't remember a friend's phone number and had to look it up. OK, it's just one digit I couldn't remember, but really, phone numbers are a package deal...
- Logical awareness and balance--as in my body, so in my head. A level of meta-awareness remains, where I can hear that what I'm saying makes no sense; but my logic, usually impeccable, isn't straight at times. I stare down the depths of a conversation and see a whirlpool in a drinking straw, and am helpless to squeeze things back up. That's a good part of why I'm writing this post, as I can logic myself out of doing all kinds of things I should be doing.
- Spatial awareness and balance--my goodness, I have become the most laughable klutz. If I pick something up, it's almost a given that I'll drop it. If it's anywhere near me, I'll run into it or tip it, or bruise myself on it. Sometimes I lose my ability to touch-type, or even type the semblance of the right order of letters.
I often get lightheaded when I stand up, or bend over. When doing my signature kitchen dance (no, not "chicken dance," even though I'm mixing up my words too these days ;) ) -- normally, I'll whirl from one area to another, picking up, setting down...I've actually put my butt down more than once.

- I'm in ketosis, holy grail of Low-Carb dieters; not on purpose. Some consequences of ketosis:
  - horrible breath. Can you imagine how mortifying that is?
  - worsened hallucinations. Yes, I have them normally anyway, but more frequent, more scary; consistently in several senses (visual, auditory, tactile at least). There's actually a bit of research recommending ketogenic diets for folks with bipolar 2 but the psychotic piece is a specifically cited reason why it's not for bipolar 1's.
  - stress on the kidneys (who have already been extremely and repeatedly stressed)
  - some heart-stress-type stuff--see, I never normally go away from my doctor without chapter and verse clarity!

- Hair loss. This wasn't happening earlier this year; grounds for my claims that nothing was wrong. It's falling out like crazy now, and I have pretty long hair.

It gets into everything!
- Hypothyroid--I have this already, as a long-term consequence of this illness/addiction. I hadn't noticed until I saw a picture of myself, though, that my eyebrows are disappearing: a pretty sure sign that I'm not taking enough thyroid med for how hypo my thyroid is.
- Amenorrhea--a given, pretty much my whole life even if you don't count childhood. Pretty convenient, except that it causes estrogen dominance, and the lack of progesterone affects smooth muscle contractions (think: peristalsis) and adrenals (think: containment and resilience) and many other hormonal functions.
- Gut stuff--food allergies and sensitivities worsen; digestion and absorption less effective with impaired peristalsis; irregularity.
- Absorption issues--both of food and of necessary medications, since both brain and gut are missing what they need.
- Adrenals--shot. Jump a foot in the air at anything sudden or loud; find it hard to make on the spot decisions.
- Aging--what a painful irony after all the fruit-and-vegetable eating, all the attention to good herbs and sunshine; hey, and all the calorie restriction. That's supposed to conduce to longevity, isn't it? I've always looked young for my age. Now, I'm being told I look ten years older. I really don't know what to do with that. I've never wanted to be vain about my appearance, but my youthfulness is something I've taken for granted.
- Honorable mentions: intermittent chest pain, impaired judgment in decision making (e.g. drinking a gallon of water preparatory to weigh-in, to make things look better vis-a-vis the ultimatum. Things look very bad. People were fooled as to the quantity but not the act. Three days later, I'm finally not feeling sick from this. Or, going on a long hike without having had lunch. Or, driving while hallucinating to be somewhere I needed not to be hallucinating). Having a hard time seeing the funny side of things, which doesn't help with the extreme relationship difficulty. And more...

The Bind
"Some" of these issues will be helped by gaining "some" weight--less than they say, in my experience. Improving nutritional status is more the key However, some of the physiological issues won't be changed, although they will respond better to medication.
Even more of a bind: weight restoration doesn't deal with the underlying issues. At all. I was barely close to 'fully restored' when I left treatment this time, and I was just uncomfortable. Last time I was in treatment, I left 'fully restored,' which just led to losing a shocking amount of weight in a very short amount of time, together with other 'behaviors,' and running away from any kind of treatment for many years. When I've been at relatively 'normal' weights, my pain and discomfort with that clouded anything else that was going on to the point that it was hard to access underlying issues. I've known friends undergo exactly the same thing, so I'm not just speaking for myself here.
Based on my experience, there has to be a compromise--especially with those of us who are older. A weight range that's lower than 'standard' but still healthy. That will allow us some physiological ease, while removing enough of the 'mind panic' for therapy to actually reach. I think this would be a far more effective strategy than putting people on Zyprexa or Seroquil so that they gain weight behind their own backs and then feel betrayed in the ultimate manner.

Full disclosure and my own bind: when I left treatment, I was just at the top of the 'compromise range' I had proposed to them. Even more reason for me to walk my talk now.

HAWMC #4: Why I Write About Health; Dichotic Listening

Today's prompt is to free write for fifteen minutes on why I write about health.
First of all, I want you to try an experiment. This is something I'm having my Linguistics class do next week as part of our Psycholinguistics unit. Bear with me--I'll explain why this is relevant in a moment, and it's really interesting.
Go to this site: http://www.linguistics.ucla.edu/people/schuh/lx001/Dichotic/dichotic.html and get yourself a pair of stereo headphones. Click to play the test. Ten pairs of words will be played, one word into each ear. For each, you should type in the numbered box what word you hear. When you've done all ten, you can click through to see what the pairs of words were. Why are you doing this? Because our brain/body wiring is contralateral, which means that stimuli on the left side of the body (including the head and ears) get processed on the right side of the brain, and vice versa. For most people, the areas responsible for language processing are located in the left hemisphere of the brain, so most people will hear the word played into their right ear, because stimuli to the right ear are processed directly in the left hemisphere, whereas stimuli to the left ear will go to the right hemisphere, and then need to be sent to the language areas in the left hemisphere for processing--slower than the right ear's direct path.


That's the theory. Now, why am I talking about this and what does it have to do with writing about health? Well, as I shared a month or two ago, I'm left-handed, but have some hearing loss in my left ear. I can never tell where a sound is coming from: it always sounds like it's on the right! So I thought that I wouldn't be a good tester for brain hemispheres because inevitably I'd only hear the word in the right ear. Well, I took the test. It turned out I slightly misheard some words, but that every single word I wrote down was (sometimes a slightly misheard version of) the input to the left ear! In other words, even with a hearing impairment, I still process linguistic input more quickly from the left side than from the right, which indicates that unlike 90% of the population, my language centers are in the Right hemisphere of my brain!


This is why I write about health. Not because my left brain (that everyone needs to get out of, supposedly) is actually my right brain, but because of the unexpected pieces we learn about ourselves, about how our bodies and brains work, if we're constantly engaged and interested in understanding it better. The fact that even a hearing-impaired ear still hears language and sends it to the brain gives me hope that no matter how damaged we are, we can still find ways to make the most important connections.


A dear friend recently said to me that creating art from pain is one of the noblest things a person can do. I love this, as there's definitely a debate within creative writing about how much the writer's personal experience should impinge upon the art of their work. The best art shouldn't be just therapeutic catharsis or woe-is-me breast-beating: it should integrate into the world in a way others can relate to. I have my secrets, like anyone, but I tend to be a very open person--throughout my adult life, various friends have commented that I'm sort of childlike in my willingness to discuss anything and everything.


When it comes to serious health challenges and diagnoses that carry potential stigma, I've been more cautious about "revealing all." However, many of my poems of late have dealt with those issues, including the poem that recently won a prize. The fact that poem had success validates for me that writing about health and health challenges in an artistic way can be a valuable form of art to make. The fact that poem may have inspired someone else in my writers' group to write about her mother's similar issues is even more important. I'm also working on an essay that's more directly dealing with specifics of health challenges, stigma-bearing diagnoses, and the process of coming to terms with them. I've found myself shy of reading the more "personal" aspects at my writers' groups, and yet I am compelled to write the essay, so at some point I'll have to read it aloud too. 


I am compelled to write it, in part, because I have some hope that it may help someone else at some point. I should also acknowledge my dad (whose birthday it is today) for a role in why I write about health. When I was almost dead, at my lowest weight, I went back and stayed with my parents for a few weeks. He said to me at one point, "If you survive this, you will have so much experience and wisdom with which to help other people." I don't know about the "wisdom" part, but I definitely have experience! And the best way I know of to help other people is through my writing.

Why do YOU write about health?