"Forgetting those things which are behind"

"One of my favorite books of the New Testament is Paul's too-seldom read letter to the Philippians. After reviewing the very privileged and rewarding life of his early years -- his birthright, his education, his standing in the Jewish community -- Paul says all of that was nothing -- 'dung' he calls it -- compared to his conversion to Christianity. He says -- and I paraphrase -- 'I have stopped rhapsodizing about "the good old days" and now eagerly look toward the future "that I may apprehend that for which Christ apprehended me." ' Then this verse: 'This one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus"' (Philippians 3:13-14). No Lot's wife here. No looking back at Sodom and Gomorrah here. Paul knows it is out there in the future, up ahead wherever heaven is taking us that we will win 'the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.'


"At this point let me pause to add a lesson that applies both in your own life and also in the lives of others. There is something in us, at least in too many of us, that particularly fails to forgive and forget earlier mistakes in life -- either mistakes we ourselves have made or the mistakes of others. That is not good. It is not Christian. It stands in terrible opposition to the grandeur and majesty of the Atonement of Christ. To be tied to earlier mistakes -- our own or other people's -- is the worst kind of wallowing in the past from which we are called to cease and desist.


"When something is over and done with, when it has been repented of as fully as it can be repented of, when life has moved on as it should and a lot of other wonderfully good things have happened since then, it is not right to go back and open up some ancient wound which the Son of God Himself died trying to heal. Let people repent. Let people grow. Believe that people can change, and improve. Is that faith? Yes! Is it hope? Yes! Is it charity? Yes! Above all it is charity, the pure love of Christ."


—Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, "Remember Lot's Wife," BYU Devotional, January 2009

Knowledge Is Power: Get the Facts on Pornography

For, oh I'd say, the last 6 months I've found myself in many-a conversation about the dangers of pornography. I've appreciated it because how do you know what you don't know unless you discuss? There is so much scientific information about addiction—the brain changes that take place, reasons for porn addiction, ways of coping with it, etc.—that we're shooting ourselves in the foot by not increasing our knowledge in something that is so rampant today. There's no hiding from it, ignoring it, hoping it will go away. It won't, so we have to arm ourselves to deal with it in our lives. If you're a friend, sister, wife, mother, or whatever to anyone who has an addiction or might have an addiction to pornography, by increasing your knowledge you can help the people you love be more in control of their lives and know how to avoid any future porn addictions. Not everyone who looks at pornography is addicted, but if they are, it's best if you know how you can help.

So I'm gushing on and on about this because my friend Emilia del Mar posted on her blog a link to more facts about pornography. Click here to read her words and more. Let me know if you have any other questions. I'm still learning, but what I have learned has definitely made me feel more aware and hopeful about the power everyone has to overcome, especially when you let Christ into that equation.

Here are a few examples of how porn can reek havoc (also found in the link above):

-Provide an escape and consume your life so that nothing else matters, even your job or other responsibilities.

-Lead to divorce. Fifty percent of divorces involve one spouse involved in porn.

-Decrease respect for women.

-Decrease desire to marry and have children.

-Increase risk of becoming sexually abusive to others.

-Increase risk of becoming sexually dissatisfied and cheating.

-Encourage unhealthy views about sexuality, such as the belief that sex is nothing more than a recreational activity and that reserving sex for marriage is unrealistic.

-Increase risk of experiencing difficulties in serious, intimate relationships.

(http://www.loveandfidelity.org/blog/?p=334—this is the same article the link about eventually takes you to.)

Clouds of Marbles and Tidal Waves

Monday evening the sky was a swirl of midnight blue, cerulean, and indigo. How do clouds color themselves like that? And the sun was peaking through, not wanting to go to bed just yet. The clouds were playing marbles, just like summertime at Great-Grandma Newbold's in the upstairs loft with the steep stairs and the fuzzy wallpaper. For me playing marbles meant admiring each glass ball one by one and spinning it close to my eye. Looking out the window of my moving car, I was staring at those same marbles. Thank you sky.

Then Tuesday on my way to class the sky was a wall of ocean! A massive, white-water wave frozen mid-air. It was glorious. I was on the  warm sand watching time stand still, but still feeling the mist of the water spraying me. On my way home from class a different tidal wave of cloud loomed straight ahead. It was pounding down onto the oceans surface from nearly 100-ft in the air. I swear. Foamy, white, majestic, and powerful. I was actually a little afraid it'd come to life and sweep me away. But I got home okay.

the month that never was

JUNE never ended. July never existed. Last night I counted that in the last 10 days, 8 of my journal entries were dated June instead of July. What does that mean? I feel robbed. Here's to living it up the last two days of June . . . I mean JULY.

Boy meets girl.

Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy. Boy and girl watch fireworks and then carry on interesting conversation, interesting enough that girl wouldn’t mind if boy wants her phone number. He does. Girl awaits his call with actual anticipation.

Boy calls girl. Girl answers. Boy and girl talk for an hour and a half, and girl believes they were meant to talk to each other forever. Boy calls again. And again. Girl answers every time. Girl even calls boy and he answers. Boy asks girl out. Girl accepts. Boy even is going to look up all the vegetarian, vegan, and veggie-friendly restaurants in the area to take girl somewhere where she can comfortably eat the food.

Boy picks girl up. Girl . . . lets him pick her up? Can't think of anything better. Anyways, boy is thirty minutes late, but girl looks mighty fine in her new Plato’s Closet short-sleeve sweater dress and doesn't mind at all. Boy sees her and says, “Oh, you’re wearing sandals . . .” Girl says, “Uh-huh. What do you mean? What are we doing?” Boy says, “We’re going up in the canyon.” Girl says, “I don’t have a jacket.” Boy says, “Oh. Yeah. And we’re doing a BBQ and bonfire up there, so do you have any food at your place you can eat?” Girl says, “No, you idiot, but if you’d told me even half an hour ago I could’ve though.” Okay, girl really didn’t say that, but she did communicate that with her body language, tone, attitude, and eye contact. Just not her words. Instead she said, “Well, why don't you take me back home, and I’ll change my clothes. I don’t have anything at my house to grill because I’m vegan and you know that and we’ve talked hours about how hard it is to find food I can eat when it’s a date or social event, but I guess we can see what I can find at the grocery store.” Okay, she didn’t say all that either, but basically. Then boy proceeded to tell girl about his choice of media and the movies he'd brought for them to watch in the canyon. Boy's choice of viewing wasn’t so choice. Perfect beginning to a first (and last) date.

Boy grills steak. Girl grills salmon. The food is delicious enough to at least cloud girl’s memory of how the first hour of the date went down. Then girl's chair topples down the hill with her still in it, and she remembers.

Boy hasn’t called girl since. Girl hasn’t called boy since, although she needs to because he still has her camping chair and salt shaker. And they lived happily ever after. The End.

Fake it till you make it.

Just now on my way home from visiting my cousin Laney (who, by the way, grows the sweetest strawberries I've ever tasted), I decided to remove my hanging handicap pass from my rearview mirror. If I'm to get better, I need to act like I'm healthy and think like I'm healthy. So now I'll most likely be setting up a silent auction for my two handicap passes. They've still got two good months before they expire and they look quite attractive when the sunlight hits them through your windshield. They slide easily into a purse or briefcase, and they get you rock star parking no matter where you go.

Not for Long

In two weeks my Salt Lake self is being put to rest in the city cemetery next to that hauntingly creepy ghost story woman. Long past dusk we crept over the chain link in search of her. Never found her (even though friendly Mr. Officer found us), but I've still got time. Two weeks. Two weeks to eat my oat groats with the morning cool and the box elder bug babies and my little parsley plant on the balcony. Two weeks to smile at the sycamore trees on Michigan Avenue and dream of the day I'll have my own mini window in my front door and listen to Josh Ritter tell me how hard I am to love.

Fourteen days to hike up Emigration Canyon and be able to call it my own and visit my neighbors the three rowdy tiger cubs and run across the street to catch the shuttle to campus. I've got fourteen whole days to visit my little ducky friends at Garden Park and listen to the trees in the gully and talk to the rushing water. Sometimes it's all I need. Fourteen days to not feel so far away. I still need to partake of the Patagonia Outlet, pay Park City a visit, eat at Omar's, tour the Masonic temple, meander through my favorite corners of the Avenues, discover more secret gardens, reek of camp fire, and just be one hundred percent in the moment. Walks and talks and friends I love. I'm pretty sure this is exactly what it feels like to know you're dying.

But the downtown farmers markets will bring me back at least once a week and so will the refugees and so will you. Please promise to put flowers on my grave, and I just may come back for a day. Or three. Layton feels too far away.

June

Is the smell of vine-ripened tomatoes that triggers memory after memory of watering my dad's garden to the setting California sun. And picking zucchini the size of baseball bats. It's morning sunlight and carefree wildflowers and fuzzy baby quail waddling along the back fence. It's cut grass and baseball and endless weekends. Summer storms and evening hikes and a renewed hope for romance, of course. And farmers markets and new yummy recipes and late nights with the windows open and the fire pit ablaze. And lots and lots of  beautiful words on paper that come together only at dusk. (Maybe I should've waited till dusk to write this post.)

Beauty in Life

A friend shared this video with me this morning. I needed it. Maybe you do 
too. There's hope all around us. Love you all, my friends!!

Miracle Waiting in the Wings

Barbara didn't exactly tell me what I wanted to hear, prayed to hear. As of late my prayers have definitely been taken up five notches and are more like pleadings now. It's humbling. I can almost touch God.

I've been praying that the joint pain in my right pointer finger, which has all the RA symptoms, would really just be the infection and parasites and Strep G that are in all my other joints. But when I asked Barbara to look at that finger specifically, the computer clearly said RA. My faith is often like our eyes when we're starving and pile our plates high with more food than we could ever swallow. My faith likes to accept every challenge fearlessly, but it doesn't know what patience means. So when Barbara told me it was RA, it was almost like a slap in the face. I've been so, so healthy the past couple months. Shouldn't I be better by now?

But now that I've had time to reflect, I feel like Heavenly Father is telling me, "I know you think you know what you're capable of, but Katie, I'm about to show you that you are capable of so much more." And even more powerfully He's saying, "Watch what I can do. If you'll let me, I'll work an even mightier miracle for you. You haven't seen nothin' yet." I trust Him, I do. He's healed me so many times before that I can never doubt His power, but this is to a new height. I'm wondering if He wants me to prove Him to the point that he lets me see the physical affects of RA so that He can heal me, change me visibly. It makes me heart ache because of the love He has for me and ache because I feel like a little child afraid to jump off the diving board. I guess we'll just have to see what He has in store.

PS: The most beautiful sun is making my backyard radiate and shimmer. It wants me to come out and swing for a minute and pick the pretty purple wildflowers growing through the grass. It doesn't even care that I'm still in my pajamas.

Today's Point Spectrum

+50 pts. Getting to see a boy named Adam one more time.
+19 pts. Completing final exam #1 without breaking a sweat.

-50 pts. Seeing a boy named Adam one last time.

+75 pts. Someone mowing our jungle while I was at said final!! (You could lie down in some areas and no one could see you.)
+5 pts. The fridge being dark and all the digital clocks being blank when I got home.
+15 pts. Remembering the whole neighborhood is dark too, although the power company did threaten to permanently turn off our power today if we didn't call them (but Leigh did—thank you, Leigh).
+2 pts. Almost crying because all the wonderful foods I wanted to make required electricity.
+6 pts. Eating a spinach and lettuce sandwich. (Hey, I'm still an amateur when it comes to having a variety of raw sandwich-worthy condiments on hand.)
+44 pts. Declaring avocado my replacement mayo. It spreads much better and is all natural.
+0 pts. Hitting my head against the desk repeatedly (i.e., Studying for my statistics final).
+166 pts. so far. I'd say it's a pretty good day.

May 6th

May 6th is 2 days after my last final and 1 week before I fly to Seattle with my mama to see 4 people we love dearly, 2 of them being munchkins. And May 6th is also my . . .

2nd appointment with Barbara!!!! 

(I've been on a waiting list and just got offered this appointment.)

More Answers

In all honesty, I haven't posted any health updates lately because I've plateaued and am slightly frustrated about my arthritis pain not improving, so there's nothing much to share that's progress. And just yesterday fear started to creep in. I don't like that word and for the most part I feel completely at peace about my health, but yesterday I saw my Uncle Mike, whose wife has RA. I'd taken my car in to see Mike, the Saab master, because the "check engine" light came on Wednesday afternoon. Nothing's wrong with the car—the light came on because my gas cap wasn't screwed on tight enough. It hurts my hands to click the cap tight, so after I fill up with gas I just twist it on without clicking it in place. Something about the lack of pressure in the gas tank makes the engine light go on. So I practiced turning the cap and can click it three times if I do it with both hands, mainly using my thumbs, and go at it at a different angle than normal. Mike figured that me not being able to screw the gas cap on tight was the problem because his wife, Lavon, can't do that either because of her RA. It hurts my fingers to even hit the blinker or the windshield wipers now, but what can you do? Lavon's in the same boat but worse. So are a lot of other people.

So the fear part crept in after Mike mentioned joint damage and how when you use your joints when they're inflamed, you can cause permanent damage. I didn't know that. The rheumatologist said to keep using my joints even when they hurt. She also told me to come back in 4 months or until the pain got unbearable because she said my hand pain appeared to be osteoarthritis not rheumatoid. Well, what is unbearable pain? I think I can bear any pain. I feel like my rheumatologist has just left me hanging without figuring out the root of the problem and looking deeper. At first I felt fine about that because I had Barbara and knew about the infection in my body even if the rheumatologist didn't want to go down that road, but now that my symptoms aren't improving as quickly as I hoped, I feel very vulnerable and don't want to cause permanent joint damage. I want to make sure I'm doing the right thing. If I were seeing faster results with the medicine I've been taking from Barbara, I would feel safer.

But just now I decided to research more about Strep G to better understand what it's doing in my body and what to expect with it, and I came across this information, which helps me see the whole picture a lot better! Amazing! Read below.

"Group G strep (GGS) is normally present on the skin, in the mouth and throat,and in the intestines and genital tract, and is most likely to lead to infection in alcoholics and in people who have cancer, diabetes mellitus, rheumatoid arthritis, and other conditions that suppress immune-system activity. GGScan cause a variety of infections, including:

     -Bacteria in the bloodstream

     -Bursitis (Inflammation of the connective tissue structure surrounding a joint)

     -Endocarditis (a condition that affects the lining of the heart chambers and the heart valves)

     -Meningitis

     -Osteomyelitis (inflammation of bone and bone marrow)

     -Peritonitis (inflammationof the lining of the abdomen)."

Read more: http://www.faqs.org/health/topics/5/Streptococcal-infections.html#ixzz0lO6Nar00

If I didn't have RA and if my immune system weren't low from other health issues (epstein barr virus and hyperthyroidism and stress), I bet the Strep G wouldn't have attacked my joints. Interesting! So my primary concern is to kill the infection and then see if the joint pain goes away completely. If not, then I know the infection really did trigger the RA and then I'll deal with the RA. My most persistent and worse pain is in my right pointer finger knuckle, which is an RA joint (OA joints are the two top joints of the fingers and the thumb joints), so I am concerned about joint damage there. Here's what I'm doing now to eliminate the bacteria:

-taking herbal drops to kill the parasites and Strep G infection (same drops I've taken over the years to kill all my travel bugs)

-taking Lactozyme pills to put good bacteria in my body

-eating 4 Tbs. coconut oil daily, which has major antiviral properties (go to http://www.advance-health.com/coconut.html to read more)

-getting massages with essential oils that fight infection and help with pain (Okay, so I've had only one massage so far, but was the best thing I've done so far for my pain. I felt amazing the entire day and swore I would start doing them every other week. But they cost money, so I have yet to go back for my second one.)

-trying to stress less

-trying to sleep more

-eating 4 cups of green smoothie a day (see Please Pass the Green for more info)

-lessening the foods I eat that contain preservatives

-eating mostly fresh, raw veggies, especially asparagus, edamame, chickpeas, broccoli, Brussels Sprouts, spinach, and green beans to get the most protein

From the Mouth of Babes

We already know I'm a picture stealer when it comes to my niece and nephew, so don't even worry about it. Just a couple minutes ago I was on Brad and Chels's blog, and Chels had shared a great story about little Emma that was too good to keep to myself. So now I'm owning up to being a story stealer.

Emma is 2 1/2 years old. Just a couple weeks ago Brad, Chels, Emma, and Jude went to visit Chels's parents in Pennsylvania. While they were there they went to see the Palmyra Temple and stopped in the visitor's center. There were two sister missionaries there who asked Emma if she knew who the statue was of. Emma said, "Jesus." Then they asked who Jesus was. Emma said, "My husband." Who is this child?? I just love her. Good thing she didn't say William Tyndale was her husband or else we would've been in a fight. I've already claimed him as my husband after the resurrection.

Behind the fence

Swinging. Careening. Cloud-to-soul revealing. That's when I noticed the rusty latch at the tip-top of the wooden fence. The wooden fence I thought we shared with our backyard neighbors. So I crept close and jiggled the latch and got impatient when it wouldn't budge. So I hammered the fence with the side of my slightly able fist, and the door went creak and I took a furtive peak. I bet you want to know what I saw, don't ya? A world of pebbles and hollow stripes, silently peering into a land of primly pruned shrubs and delicate vines and ornate stools of iron. The stripes kept us apart, and I liked it that way, behind the fence. In between the fences. A world of pebbles and empty snail homes, silently leading to unknown corners and buried wonders of rubble.

Please Pass the Green

So I've decided to expand my blogging world once again. Along with my Egypt blog, I now have a "healthy eating experiment" blog. About a week ago I decided to officially change some eating habits to get back to nature through whole and raw foods. I'd already eliminated white flour and dairy, but now it's no more processed anything.

I thought it might be helpful to more people if I shared my findings publicly, so keep visiting this blog for Katie's private thoughts and check out Please Pass the Green for my latest health discoveries. And I promise they'll be good. But just so you know, the new blog is somewhat under construction, but I'd love for you to already take a look and give me any feedback you want.

Freedom

Interesting feeling to need something and have the means to buy it. It's a giddy mixed with content and secure and profoundly prepared. Almost astonishment to be able to spend freely out of necessity. And awe that most of my life hasn't been so. A "so this is what it feels like" feeling. It digs into my heart.

So you see, I've been rationing my tax return and buying all those things I've needed but that have never made it onto the priority list. Sunglasses, for example. I have two broken pairs that dig into the flesh behind my ears. The leopard print on the one pair is peeling off, revealing a foggy, clear-plastic frame. The black pair cost $5 at Down East, and the legs (handles?) wobble and the decorative plastic plating is coming off. So I decided to put to good use a $10 gift card and see what Kohl's had to offer. Vera Wang. Originally $34. On sale for $17. Paid $8.12. So comfortable, they're sunglass heaven!

Next is a bra. And then a pair of slippers!

I'm not used to this content feeling. I hope it will last.

He Is Risen.

He went it alone so that we don't have to. I know Christ lives. Happy Easter.

Partnership: Husband & Wife

Last night my old mission president Gamaliel Osorno from Valencia, Venezuela, gathered his little flock of past missionaries. He and his wife flew in from Venezuela for this weekend's LDS General Conference, which consists of four hours Saturday and four hours Sunday of talks from the prophet, the 12 apostles, and other church leaders and music from the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. I so look forward to this time each year—April and October—when we can hear the inspired words of the prophet and apostles. I can't wait for tomorrow. General Conference is broadcast by TV, Internet, and satellite all around the world, so even my brother Nate and his fellow Ghanians will get to watch it!

In April 2007 Elder Gamaliel Osorno was ordained to serve in the fourth Quorum of the Seventy to oversee the church in Venezuela, Ecuador, Colombia, Bolivia, and Peru(?). (I think Peru is included—I know it was five countries.) Just as groups of 70 elders were called in the Old and New Testaments to watch over and instruct the church, today the church also calls groups of 70 elders to be traveling ministers and watch over the church worldwide. President Osorno said there are more than 300 elders in the quorums of the seventies today, and they all met yesterday from 52 different countries! He said it was incredible to have his headphones on and hear all of the translations. Spanish is his only language.

So the reason I mention all of this is because one of the main topics of their meetings yesterday was to discuss the the cultural differences of the husband/wife relationship. He said that in the United States we don't have as much of this problem, although it does exist, but in other countries and cultures throughout the world there is a greater sentiment of male dominance (which I clearly saw in Venezuela, Mexico, Argentina, and Egypt). He said that it is a challenge for newly baptized members to grasp the emphasis the church puts on a partnership in marriage and abandon their cultural norms of women being subservient. Newly baptized men (as well as not-so-newly baptized men) are trying to learn less compulsion and more humility, and women are learning how to play more of an active role in the relationship to make them equal marriage partners.

Elder Osorno said, as you might imagine, that as couples are learning how to work in a partnership and show more respect for each other, they are happier and together move closer to God. Parents are then paving a way for their children—the next generation—to know how husbands and wives are to work together and support each other in love.

Any thoughts?

Have you met these guys before?

I like making new friends, especially with pesty kind of creatures because you just never know when they'll come to your rescue, but I haven't quite figured out these guys: Box Elder bugs. I more feel sorry for them than anything because they just wander all day and have nothing meaningful to do, like ants or whatever other bug does meaningful stuff. Like bees maybe? What productive task could I give them to help improve their quality of life?

On a sad but ingenious note, I'm taking more preventative measures this year to keep the hordes of Box Elder bugs out of the house. They either die in the house or they die outside, and it saves me time and mess if they die outside. So I'm going to get bug spray and douse all the door and window frames. I first typed "Please don't judge me," but then I realized that I don't care much even if you do. So judge away.

My New Favorite Medicine

I think I like this advice. And I may start following it on a weekly basis. Thai Tuesdays anyone?

"An ancient spice, long used in traditional Asian medicine, may hold promise for the prevention of both rheumatoid arthritis and osteoporosis, according to a recently completed study at The University of Arizona College of Medicine. It is encouraging news for millions of senior citizens concerned about both conditions. Turmeric, the spice that flavors and gives its yellow color to many curries and other foods, has been used for centuries by practitioners of Ayurvedic medicine to treat inflammatory disorders.

"Turmeric extract containing the ingredient curcumin is marketed widely in the Western world as a dietary supplement for the treatment and prevention of a variety of disorders, including arthritis.

"The researchers found that the curcuminoid extract inhibits a transcription factor called NF-KB from being activated in the joint. A transcription factor is a protein that controls when genes are switched on or off. Once the transcription factor NF-KB is activated, or turned on, it binds to genes and enhances production of inflammatory proteins, destructive to the joint. The finding that curcuminoid extract inhibits activation of NF-KB suggests that turmeric dietary supplements share the same mechanism of action as anti-arthritic pharmaceuticals under development that target NF-KB.

"It also suggests that turmeric may have a use in other inflammatory disorders, such as asthma, multiple sclerosis and inflammatory bowel disease.

"In addition to preventing joint inflammation, Dr. Funk's study shows that the curcuminoid extract blocked the pathway that affects bone resorption. Noting that bone loss associated with osteoporosis in women typically begins before the onset of menopause, she has begun work on another NIH-funded study to determine whether turmeric taken as a dietary supplement during perimenopause can prevent bone loss and osteoporosis.

"Both of the studies are supported by the National Center for Complementary and Alternative Medicine (NCCAM) and the Office of Dietary Supplements (ODS), both of the NIH" (from www.seniorjournal.com).

I wonder if you can overdose on yellow curry?

The Real Thing, Baby.

The Timeline

Oct 8, 2009–Feb 25, 2010: Katie thinks she just has Bursitis all this time. Bursitis is caused by either (1) sports or trauma, (2) rheumatoid arthritis, or (3) infection, and it feels worse than death. Then the Bursitis-like pain starts coming more frequently and spreads from shoulder to shoulder to hand to foot to jaw. Her throat even starts hurting when she touches the outside of it or turns her head. It was nothing she'd ever felt before and when she swallowed it felt scraping on cartilage . . . because Katie knows what scraping cartilage feels like, just like she knows what death feels like.

Feb 25, 2010 (thursday): Student health center doctor checks Katie out and does blood work to test for rheumatoid arthritis, which is "a chronic and progressive disease where the immune system attacks the joints. It is characterized by pain, inflammation and swelling of the joints, stiffness, weakness, loss of mobility, and deformity. Tissues throughout the body can be affected, including the skin, blood vessels, heart, lungs, and muscles" (Wikipedia, I believe).

Mar 1, 2010 (monday): Rheumatoid panel comes back positive, which means Katie could have rheumatoid arthritis (RA), lupus, or another autoimmune disease. X-rays show no joint damage in shoulders, hand, and foot, but foot has a stress fracture (from doing absolutely nothing). Doctor tells her to see a rheumatologist to properly diagnose her. She also tells Katie to see a foot specialist for orthotics.

Mar 8, 2010 (monday): Katie sees her holistic doctor Barbara, who has saved the day countless times past. The diagnosis is that multiple kinds of parasites have come to life again in Katie's body, particularly in Katie's connective tissue . . . just like what happened on Katie's mission in Venezuela in 2003. Back then parasites had set up camp in Katie's right shoulder, but she was treated for them when she got home and her shoulder felt great within a week. The return of her friends is due to an overdose of estress and other health issues that weakened her, which gave them free reign of her body. This time around Katie thought there was no way she could have parasites in her shoulders because she hadn't left the country in a year. (Katie likes talking in the 3rd person.)

Katie also has Strep G, which is body Strep and attacks the joints. She got different forms of Staph infections when she went to Argentina in 2007 and Egypt in 2008, so this wasn't surprising. Katie's earlier unusual throat pain was connected to the Strep G too. And bones, arthritis, and pain came up as the number 1, number 2, and number 3 problems in Katie's body. BUT . . . the arthritis showing itself didn't appear to be RA. Barbara said, "Now I may be wrong, but it doesn't look like you have RA, although you do have arthritis."

Mar 10, 2010 (wednesday): Katie sees a rheumatologist for the first time. In preparation she researched everything Barbara had told her and made sure to sound knowledgeable enough to ask the doctor viable questions. Katie's main desire is that the doctor take into consideration that the inflammation could be caused by infection (i.e., parasites and bacteria) before diagnosing her with something she doesn't have and prescribing medicine she doesn't need. After Katie explains all of her symptoms and the doctor checks her out, the doctor agrees that she doesn't think Katie has RA, primarily because Katie's pains aren't displaying themselves symmetrically like normal RA patients and Katie's white blood cell count is normal. Most people with autoimmune diseases have high white blood cells counts because their body is attacking itself. The rheumatologist has Katie do some more blood work to make sure it's not Hep B or C or RA. This final RA test is called the anti-CCP and is more sensitive than the Rheumatoid panel. If the results are positive, it will confirm that Katie has RA. The doctor tells Katie it sounds like parasites are the cause and to come back in a week and a half for ultrasound on her shoulders and hands.

March 16, 2010 (yesterday): Test results are back, and Katie tested positive on the anti-CCP, which measures the amount of antibodies in a person. Normal is 1–20. Katie scores 153. Rheumatologist says that Katie's in the early stages of RA. Katie will see the rheumatologist again on Thursday March 25th for ultrasound.

A little in denial, Katie does more research. Her roommate Ashley is a PA and joins her in the research. Ashley's hypothesis is that since Katie's symptoms are not typical RA, the cause is still bacteria and parasites, but RA is showing up in the blood work because Katie's genes show RA. People who feel great but have RA dormant in them will show up positive on the RA tests. Katie has RA but it has not yet shown itself or is now just starting (for a week and a half now the joints of my fingers have killed, but still not in the normal RA fashion).


The current dilemma: When it comes to early RA, doctors want to aggressively treat to prevent the joints from quickly deteriorating. Medications such as Methotrexate (a drug first used in the 1960s to treat cancer)  are powerful and can do serious damage to your organs. If I don't have to be on Methotrexate (or any others drugs), I don't want to be. You can't be on it when you're pregnant, once you've been on it you could be unable to conceive, and some of it may still in your system even once you're off it and pregnant, causing birth defects. I've talked to a handful of people who have RA, and many of them have had bad side effects from the medicine. My new friend Liz I met last night (her roommate brought me dinner) went into shock upon taking the medication and her mom had to call 911. And then they pumped her stomach.

To sum up the overall feeling I have, I feel beyond blessed that I'm finding out I have RA while it's in the early stages, and even though I've usually been facetious when I've called my herds of parasites "friends," I can't help but thank them, first for saving me from colon cancer and then from full-onset RA. I didn't think that'd make me emotional but it did. Here's picture of a few of them to quitarme of that, even those this picture really isn't that horrifying.

So the research will continue and so will more talks with God. I know He's guiding me every step of the way.

Lightning Bolt

It just came to me. Boys are dumb. There. I said it. There has to be some way to help them. Any ideas? I fear the ones I'm surrounded by are beyond hope. That's my cue to move on.

So I haven't squeezed my week into a medical blog entry yet even though it's been a thought in my mind that keeps growing and growing. For now know that I await more test results for rheumatoid arthritis. Maybe I'll get a phone call from the rheumatologist tomorrow. The doctors have confirmed that I am not the usual RA case so they are doubtful it's what I have, but they can't rule it out. But I know what I have. It appears that my body has once again become the residence of friends. Parasites and Strep D (Google it) are the root cause of the inflammation in my joints and bursa sacs (Google it too if you want). And the hurting also seems to include arthritis but the osteo kind. Still not confirmed, but I'm happier heading in that direction till further notice. More details TK. Over and out.

I darn well better create.

The events of the past couple weeks have allowed me, prodded me, shoved me into reflection. My life is now in 3-D—in my face and quickly unraveling (in a good way) the realities of what I may not be able to do months, years from now. I've reclaimed my paint brushes, I'm appreciating my Mon/Wed morning walks, and I'm paying more attention to the independence I currently have. If I must start wearing pants with elastic waist bands because I can't do zippers or tuck in my shirt, I'm going to embrace it and wear the coolest zipperless pants you've ever seen. Whatever the future brings, I'm enjoying today. This life isn't the end, and there is plenty of eternity for me to rock climb and swim laps and do the wave and pick up babies.

Just now in meandering through my journal I came across this. I don't remember writing it, but I know I wrote it for me to read today.

"2.28.09. I need to take my journal with me so my thoughts aren't scattered on pieces of scratch paper only to be lost and later thrown away. If I say I'm an artist and want to be an artist and thrive on creating, I darn well better create. What am I waiting for? Paint, dress, design, decorate, collage, scheme, muster, plaster, cut, draw, scribble, illuminate, ponder, portray, portrait, sketch, capture. And then share!!! I need to do what makes me happy and lets my talents unfold. I need to finish what I start and whittle through my mental pile of unfinished creations. I don't have to hang out with someone because I feel bad. My time is valuable and can never be replaced. If I love the Lord I will spend time with Him. (Thanks for putting it so well, Elder Wirthlin.) Expand. Breathe deep. Open my heart. Let nature inspire. Take care of my mortal body. Express myself. Eliminate chaos and confusion and mediocrity. Let the Spirit confound and engage and excite. Trust. Cut fear from my vocabulary and banish it from my existence. Allow people in. Find comfort in past experiences, but keep building upward on them. And live today, live in the moment—don't already be too preoccupied with the next, the future."

Surpassing gratitude . . .

for unrestrained, eye-watering yawns.
 for being able to feed myself, spoon to mouth just like that.
   for driving carefree while in the midst of utter recklessness—very rare for me but very empowering.
     for the deep. The subsurface, the substance, the raw and undefiled.
       for the divine in the most simple of creations—the Plan in the most unimaginable of situations.

I Put a Water Bra on for This?

If I could go back in time, I would've written the good-bye note in erasable ink—now it's permanently on the title page of the book I didn't give him. I probably wouldn't have bought the book either, because who wants a book that was meant for another? And I would probably take back the late-night conversation I had with him in October when I offered to either detract from his sadness or add to it, and first told him about The Blue Day Book (which I now own, with his name and my handwriting inside). If I could go back . . .

When I showed up at his door tonight, the first person I saw was female. And she wasn't exiting his apartment to leave for the night, she was exiting to walk me to my car I'd parked seconds ago on the street. She wore yellow galoshes and a spaghetti-strap tank top. Her bra straps were black, just like her hair and just like the trash bag of refugee clothes she carried while I stumbled along with empty hands behind him and her. The him had his arms full of another bag of clothes for my foreign friends. I managed to make small talk about his couches and cleaning to get ready for the move. He asked me where I worked again that got me collecting clothes. I said that helping the refugees had nothing to do with my job, that I do it for fun, remember? He said, Oh that's right. He looked at my face twice, but our eyes saw each other's only once, back in the stairwell for three. Good-bye.

Why I Love My Downtown Neighbors

My two favorite memories from yesterday were

(1) when I drove downtown past a group of junior high kids on a field trip right when a skinny, smiling boy stuck his hitchhikin' thumb out into the street and a split second later his squat little teacher yanked him off the curb by the neck, and

(2) when minutes later a Beyoncé-blasting SUV slid up alongside my Saab at a red light, drowning out Matt Costa's acoustic sunshine to my soul, so I turned to see who was responsible for all that ruckus and was jolted with the sight of Mr. Lumberjack w/ the Red Goatee belting out the lyrics just slightly louder than his female vocalist counterpart.


And it all happened in one long sentence.

My Life Has Lives of Its Own

School is all business this semester, wearing pull-over sweater vests and utilizing overhead projectors and spouting out about deductive reasoning, cold fusion, and quantum physics.

Bedroom is twinkly with a string of lights I didn't return to the Christmas decoration box and don't plan on returning. There's enough order here that my mind is at ease and enough disarray to put me in good company.

Love Life did a 180˚ (from zilch to "Heaven help me!") and then a slight 45˚ (from "I'm going to Africa" to "Where the heck did I almost agree to go?"), so it's keeping me alert at all times because I don't seem to be the one behind the wheel. I'm not sure I'm enjoying the ride as much as I was before the 45˚, but I'm determined to not pull the emergency lever and stop this train.

Career seems to be dragging its oversized clown shoes. That's all I have to say because that's all my editing attention span can handle these days.

Church gives me purpose and is having me teach about "sacrifice" this Sunday. New beginnings give me the excuse to reevaluate how much of my will is in line with the Lord's and make the necessary adjustments, so I'm counting this lesson I get to teach as a blessing.

Future still has a steady pulse.

Grin and Bear It.

Sometimes we make silly decisions and reap the consequences. But sometimes those "silly decisions" turn out to be life-changers, and we're glad we were so brilliant under pressure even though now we can't use our right arm for three days.

I felt my chronic bursitis flaring up on Wednesday, so I tried not to move or use my right shoulder until I found out (or decided on a whim) that a certain boy would be joining me at my house Thursday night (the infamous New Year's Eve). Well, could I let him meet me for the first time and associate me with a filthy house? No way. So I scrubbed the kitchen and bathroom, and vacuumed the living room carpet and couch cover, using my right arm, since I am not yet ambidextrous. Needless to say, the house looked incredible, the evening spent with boy was amazing and extended into the wee hours of 2010, but now my right arm is completely frozen and inflamed to the core. Even trade? In this case yes. I chose wisely.