For those of you who know me in real life (not just through my blog), you are aware that I’ll talk about anything. Anything at all. Just bring up what’s on your mind and I’m ready to discuss. And if you take too long, I’ll ask you about it myself.
Tonight I’m thinking about blood. Several years ago, I was talking to a few friends about our menstrual cycles and about what we use to catch the blood flow. Needless to say, we had to laugh with embarrassment, and shift in our seats with discomfort (or even disgust). But the conversation opened the first door for me to stop using throw-away pads.
The thing about all the throw-away, single use menstrual products is that they allow a woman to avoid dealing with the fact that there is blood leaking out between her legs. Somehow, we have been conditioned to find this pretty disgusting, even though it really is no more interesting than blowing our noses. (Yup, I frequently use hankies rather than tissues.)
So the first foray into dealing with menstrual blood was when I picked up some GladRags. I had to hand rinse them in the sink and let them dry out before I threw them in the laundry basket. That’s when I finally started to understand the question that my gynecologist asked and that I’d read about in women’s health books: “Do you have a lot of clots in your menstrual flow?”
The answer at the time (and until this month) was yes.
A few years later, one of my friends showed me her Diva Cup. That was a whole new ball game. Not only did I have to deal with the blood directly, not just partially absorbed by cotton, but it was a very involved process to learn how to put it in correctly and figure out how to get it out. I’m glad I did, in part because it made me more comfortable with my anatomy, in part because it doesn’t dry me out (like disposable pads), but mostly because I really started to understand my blood flow.
With this alternate tool in hand, I could see how much blood actually comes out each month (and when it was diminishing and now that it is a more reasonable amount). I can see the color and texture and how much it clots before it exits.
What amazed me this month is that there was only one clot, on the first day, and none after. I’ve read about such a phenomenon but never saw it for myself until these past few days.
- Babesia, ilium, 1 minute each side; knees/elbows, 1 minute; liver, 5 minutes; chest, 5 minutes
- Bartonella, chest, 2 minutes; abdomen, 5 minutes
- Candida, abdomen, 10 minutes; chest, 2 minutes
- skin brushing
- BioMat (1 hour, level 2)
- welchol (2 doses, 1 pill each)
The Lyme Herx came in pretty quickly this time. No night sweat, but not terribly restful sleep either. I woke up feeling as trashed as when I went to bed.
My herxing headache, with light sensitivity and sound sensitivity started at about noon, just in time for my doctor visit. I didn’t get to take any Welchol until 2:30. That slowed the progress of the headache, but since I didn’t rest, it didn’t go away.
My mind was scattered all morning. This evening, I’m feeling more playful, even though the pain has now landed in my back as well, and I’ve got an earache in my right ear. I’ve also got some neurological pains starting in my hips and going down the sides of my legs. My joints are hurting, especially my wrists, maybe from the Herx, maybe from the rain.
My doctor wasn’t 100% sure I have tinea versicolor. As the weather has cooled, the itching, redness and brown spots have faded significantly. He gave me a prescription for a cream. I’m going to wait a few days to see if it completely resolves on its own before I add a topical fungicide to my routine.
I’ve got my second huge pimple in a week (just below my jaw bone on the right side). It makes me think I’ve hit another layer of candida removal.
The urinary hesitation has now become rare. However, my urine has been cloudy on and off over the past few days. Also another clue to candida on the move (out).
Herxing can make it hard to sleep. I’ve got my fingers crossed that I’ll sleep well tonight.