Tag doctor

The Easter Egg Hunt for Healing!

SpoonfulofDiva Leave a comment

Looking for the answers on how to heal.

Swinging an Easter basket in one hand wearing her new yellow frilly dress, and black shiny patent leather shoes running through the tufts of thick green grass, searching frantically for colorful candy filled plastic easter eggs, that was me. Each egg found would come with candy, money, or a prize, and never left a recipient in disappointment with each brightly colored find. Family who hid the eggs would even get devious, sometimes you had to search high and low, even though I was a shorter version of most humans. Easter was so much fun! I also learned an invaluable lesson from Easter Egg hunts. Never leave any stone unturned, check every nook and cranny, even check the gutters and trashcans.

Plastic Easter Eggs
Easter Baskets for Adults & Children

My search for knowledge, sincerely comes from what I learned Easter Egg Hunting, and I implore you and our younger generations to do the same. When it comes to your health, when it comes to life, or anything that you need to gain knowledge for or from. One valuable piece of wisdom my father imparted on me as a child was, “No matter what the situation, your EDUCATION can never be taken from you. No one, the only one that can deny you EDUCATION is yourself.” I’ve carried that with me forever, and I share that sentiment with any human being I can.

My search for knowledge about my health, started at home. Gutters were first, I started looking at my bowels. What I was consuming and what was coming out are VERY important. Then, I began to search higher. Once I knew I wasn’t poisoning myself, to the best of my knowledge, I got online and started Googling. The one thing everyone tells you not to do, but remember, I don’t listen. I was looking for answers on how to heal my brain, and how to thwart my Mast Cell reactions and all the histamine my body was producing. I needed to do something and pronto.

I know what you are saying to yourself, “Why didn’t she go to an allergist?” Funny story, I did that too. I was allergic to practically everything, and then I was allergic to the steroids that was supposed to counteract the reactions to the shots. I went in more miserable than when I came out. It wasn’t working, or worth the misery I was putting myself through. All the allergist wanted to do was keep giving me the shots, even that doctor didn’t really look into WHY my body seemed to react to EVERYTHING. I fired that doctor too.

My tunnel of light was closing quickly, it’s hard to explain. In a sense, I knew I was losing my thought processing ability, I was in fight or flight mode, just trying out how to figure things out, to save my life. (This also raises histamine levels, cortisol levels, and sends you into a stress histamine response as well. With each waking day, I knew I was step closer to losing my grip on reality.) At one point, the only thing I could manage to do was crossword puzzles, and that took FOREVER just to get one done. I used to be an ace at those as a child, I could have one done in less than 3 minutes.

Popped open my laptop and went online to find “Easter Eggs” of information. I searched many things, but educating myself on histamine was the start.

I plead insanity…Cytokine Storm Mania

SpoonfulofDiva Leave a comment

My kids can vouch for me.

Being chronically ill is likened to being traumatized all over again. On top of being a survivor of previous abusive situations, I likened my situation to triggering all of the above all at once. With Mast Cell Activation your body goes into a cytokine storm. When I mentioned being allergic to your bullshit, my bullshit, stress, and all the other junk in between, I wasn’t kidding. It’s true.

Your body has a response mechanism to cytokine storms, and once your mast cells are activated, no matter the mitigating factor, it activates my mast cells as well. Stress me out, and I lose my shit. If my body is in critical attack, I literally lose my shit… sometimes I forget everything, need to sleep, or scream. I really have no control over it. Other times I hyper react, overthink, and literally drive everyone nuts around me talking about a subject matter three or four times until they’re bored. It’s essentially like having ADHD mixed with a good dose of memory loss.

Most of my life it’s been contributed to me being annoying, obnoxious, crazy. Well essentially, I do go crazy a little. When my body is in crisis at the ER, sometimes I can black out and say things I don’t even know I have said. One critical time, the resident doctor feared even coming into the room to talk to me even before I was released.

I had went to an outdoor wedding that day, and I was just not feeling right. My husband and I had left a little early, and I went home to change clothes. Something was brewing and I couldn’t put my finger on it at that moment. I was going to the garage, and had told my husband, I needed to go to the hospital. I made it to the landing in that garage, and bam, total neurological shut down. I could speak, but I couldn’t open my eyes, I couldn’t move my body, arms and legs totally dysfunctional. My caretaker and husband tag teamed picking me up and sort of dragging me to the truck to get me to the hospital. I am ever so grateful for the wonderful family I have in my life.

That was my life changing moment in the ER. My body was overcome by mold and yeast, I was literally foaming at the mouth, the thrush was so bad in my mouth. I had taken 30 Benadryl to keep me alive, because who can freaking afford an EPI Pen at those kinds of prices, and then still have to go to the ER anyway?! It’s highway robbery to try and save your life. I was in anaphylactic shock, and I needed help.

My husband took me to the nearest ER and they stuck me directly in a Covid wing, my body had went into neurological shut down, I seized in their waiting room while checking in, yet they stuck me in a COVID wing! I was furious. As soon as my legs could work again (I’m assuming from ingesting all the Benadryl), I got up out of that bed and told the whole staff to, “Go fuck yourselves.” Not my proudest moment, because they called security and threatened to call the police until they got the IV start out of my arm. I promptly had my husband drive me to the next nearest ER.

That moment was when I really freaked out the resident doctor, and my husband really doesn’t tell me much other than, he said, “You got MEAN.” I had blacked out. The paresthesia in my veins was so bad at that point, that it took them four hours to get the IV in, and when I did “come to life” again, I was confused but not surprised they had me strapped to the bed. The turning point, I had full function of my brain again, for the first time in years, my body fully functioning like normal. I wanted to see the man who listened, and administered the treatment that saved my life that day! It took a GRAND amount of pleading with the nurses “I’m nice again, I promise.” Sheepishly the doctor came in to receive the “thank you” that he so very much deserved and appreciated, then I told him my story, and he told me to write the book.

Apparently, the mold and yeasts had taken over my body! When they Iv’d an antifungal through my veins, everything miraculously came back to me! I don’t knock the medical field in anyway shape or form, but I am a product of being mistreated over and over again, and when I say, “You can fire your doctor!” I damn well mean it! Find the ones who are in the field and ask why they started it in the first place, TO HELP PEOPLE. You treat that first appointment like you are interviewing them. Unless you are in a position you can’t advocate for yourself, NEVER RELENT to just letting them do whatever. FIGHT for yourself and your needs! However, I suggest you do it as nicely as possible. My mother-in-law always told me, “You can catch more bees with honey, than you can with vinegar.” She’s not wrong.

That day was the day, I realized, that there was SOMETHING in my Garage, that was a PROBLEM, and I set out to find why! After all, I had suffered seizures in there, and a concussion… it was time to figure out why my body had neurological problems with my own home.