tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41812573927464458182024-03-13T04:41:24.343-07:00how we can't eat anythingthe crohn's baby goes to graduate schoolRagamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.comBlogger241125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-75359143186630838912017-03-09T19:51:00.002-08:002017-03-09T20:43:17.460-08:00attending science conferences in early pregnancyTraveling to neuroscience conferences has been such a major part of the last 7 years of my life that I now consider myself a pro. What I am absolutely not a pro at is traveling while pregnant.<br />
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<i>This year on International Women's Day, I attended my first scientific conference as a pregnant woman.</i><br />
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This week, I am 16 weeks pregnant. I am starting to show. And I flew from California to Maryland for the first conference of my post doc. It was a long (fortunately non-stop) flight. It was a week of putting myself in front of new people and assertively introducing myself, and semi-hiding my condition.<br />
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;">Here is what I learned about <b>flying </b>during early pregnancy:</span><br />
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1. Nobody is going to offer to help you. I was able to lift my own carry-on into the overhead storage, but if you are not, find a nice looking person to ask for help. It's not worth the round ligament pain.<br />
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2. Whether it's to pee every 20 minutes (me) or just to get up every hour or so to stretch your legs and relieve your back (me) or belly cramps (me), you are likely to turn a few eyes. People are nosy on planes -- what else do they have to look at? What helped me was to make sure I got an <b>aisle seat</b>, and sit toward the <b>middle/back of the plane where families tend to sit</b>. Families will be moving around as much as you are. No one will judge you. If you strategically cradle your fledgling baby-bump, someone will likely even ask you how far along you are.<br />
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;">Here is what I learned about conference attendance during early pregnancy:</span><br />
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1. <b>Stay hydrated</b>. Most conferences provide water and chamomile tea for those stringently avoiding caffeine. <b>Do not</b> shy away from keeping hydrated in order to avoid getting up during one of the day's 22 seminars. Because I have Crohn's disease, I am comfortable going to the bathroom whenever I have to, sometimes wherever I have to. I have built up a mild immunity to people judging me for getting up to leave the room every 20 minutes. But if you are uncomfortable, sit in an outside edge seat or toward the back (I personally hate the back).<br />
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2. <b>Bring snacks</b>. Although continental breakfasts are typically safe (breads, fruit, yogurt), lunch is always a toss-up and dinner can be as well. Because I also have Crohn's disease, my diet excludes dairy and red meat. If the salad is pre-dressed, if the potatoes are doused in cream sauce, if the only protein is steak -- forget about it. With my personal pregnancy restrictions (no deli meat, no hotel fish, etc.) I am even more limited. I kept apples and carrot sticks in my bag throughout the conference. I splurged on room service so that Neonate and I could have late night nourishment when needed.<br />
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3. <b>Not drinking coffee is really hard</b>. I'm not normally a coffee drinker; tea is my hot beverage of choice. At conferences, however, I depend on 1-3 cups of coffee a day to keep me at attention and socially present. Since my body is not used to high input of caffeine, it's not something I'm about to test during my pregnancy so I've just avoided coffee altogether. I'm finding that this means that during my many walks to the restroom throughout the day, I quicken my pace and take a few stairs for stimulation. But I also skip out on a session here or there to lay down and relax (and again, to give my back some relief).<br />
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I ended up having a great time over my three day event. Have fun and put yourself out there. People are not nearly as observant as your nerves give them credit for.Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-16924420286919172932017-03-06T12:46:00.002-08:002017-03-06T12:46:57.957-08:00on challenging your post doctoral mentorWhen I interviewed at my now postdoc lab, I was told by my mentor and lab personnel that he was good at getting grants. When I pointedly asked if he was good at helping his students and postdocs get grants, the answers I got were more along the lines of "he is invested in our future and is good at helping us and being available."<br />
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At the time, I did not recognize this as a misdirection.<br />
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In my 6 months, I have been preparing to apply for 3 fellowships, all of which are specific to first-year postdocs. This preparation includes some confidence in my own grant writing skills: I was particularly well trained in graduate school, I have a good track record, I am good at it.<br />
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In my postdoc, this self-knowledge has seemed to fly out the window. There is something to be said for waiting to challenge your boss and colleagues until you understand their approaches and methods. All labs have a different style, all lab PI's do things a bit differently. And so, I initially questioned but did not challenge my boss, even though his input on my fellowship proposals seemed wildly inappropriate for the fellowship goals:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
We had a brief meeting after I showed him my first draft, and he made suggestions about the experimental approach that I thought were very extravagant and outside the goals of the fellowship. When I asked whether he thought this would be problematic for reviewers, he said, "absolutely not. Reviewers should be able to look at the track record of our lab and conclude that we are obviously equipped to do whatever we propose." That is paraphrasing, of course, but it was a huge red flag. Nevertheless, I believed that my mentor simply did things differently and it had obviously worked for him. For <i><b>him</b></i>. And I chose to go with it and compromise out of trust because he is my mentor.</blockquote>
Only weeks later did I learn that although my mentor may be good at getting his own grants, he has a terrible track record of helping his students and postdocs get grants. Seconds after learning this I realized that I should have challenged him earlier on; it might have made all of the difference if I had just pushed back harder. <i>I beat myself up for days</i>, simultaneously trying to rescue my grant proposal without totally discarding my mentor's input. This was the end of my career, I thought. He has sabotaged me. I have sabotaged myself.<br />
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I made my first deadline. The other two are coming up in two weeks. If I somehow manage to get them submitted in acceptable form it will be no small miracle.<br />
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As I navigate several situations like this with my post doctoral advisor, the most important thing that I am learning is that putting trust in your mentor or boss is not a weakness. It is their job to rise to the occasion of leadership. Caution as you learn to understand your mentor's personality, communication style and ego is not a weakness -- just the opposite, it reflects your propensity to learn and adapt. And should you lose out on an opportunity during this learning period, before you are prepared to straight-up disagree, be kind to yourself. There will be other -- although, perhaps different -- opportunities.<br />
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<br />Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-76064653528499580542017-03-02T11:41:00.001-08:002017-03-02T11:42:37.328-08:00New year, new healthcareAs I mentioned briefly <a href="http://howwecanteatanything.blogspot.com/2016/10/the-black-hole-of-early-postdocdom_16.html">last post</a>, HMO healthcare was unsustainable given the options in my current system. I was advised by my new gastroenterologist -- the singular physician who I like and have kept from my HMO plan -- that PPO was the only way to go for an individual with a chronic illness.<br />
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And boy, was he right.<br />
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As of January 1st, 2017, I have been covered by the PPO plan offered by my University for postdoctoral researchers. It is much more expensive than the postdoc HMO, but much less expensive than most other insurance policies available to those not employed by non-profit or government organizations:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>the providers are better, </li>
<li>provider options are more diverse,</li>
<li>I am not beholden to a curmudgeonly primary care physician who begrudges that his job is largely to dish out referrals to specialists,</li>
<li>and I don't have to drive 45 min to every single appointment.</li>
</ul>
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One of the better decisions I have made in my life, and a not-insignificant motivation to stick it out for another year or so in my current job position.</div>
Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-38051378942526855112016-10-16T17:44:00.001-07:002016-10-16T17:44:21.084-07:00The Black Hole of Early PostdocdomIf I were ever directly asked in an interview what my biggest weakness is, what I would say out loud is my risk of over-commitment which can lead to burn-out if I am not mindful. But that is not my actual biggest weakness as a professional.<br />
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My biggest weakness is fear of appearing less than independent. Which often leads me to a lack of asking for help, even when I know this might speed things along. Which leads to stunted progress and lack of momentum.<br />
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I have spent the first month of my post doc in a Sisyphus-style loop of working as independently as possible, then running into a major road-block which forces me to overcome my fear of being burdensome to ask for a small bit of advice from a colleague/mentor. From there, I begin pushing my rock uphill again.<br />
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In the lab that I was incredibly fortunate to join, there are teams of scientists whose independent research is connected by a common theme (i.e., a disease, a biological systems function). When I interviewed to join the lab, I met my likely future teammates and was thrilled to be able to work alongside and get to know them. However, the week before I started my PI advised a complete project switch [allegedly] based on facilitating my career goals. Now, I don't really have a team. I am isolated both conceptually and geographically from everyone except the lab manager (who is fabulous, but not the person from whom I need to absorb training).<br />
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My "team" consists of two tangential and very senior [read: checked out or physically not around] lab members, who I have to force to meet together once a month, and who I occasionally see individually during the week. I am pursuing experiments on my own using techniques that I have never used, in an environment where I have not been shown the rules of conduct (e.g., which centrifuges are so old they have particularities, or that we have a core of microscopes instead of our own). This forces me to ask any one of the 52 members of the lab where things are, how to arrange time on apparatus, and how to generally function in this world.<br />
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Everyone is very kind and helpful with small or vague bits of information, but without teammates I am not being trained, nor ingesting information about my new field beyond the literature. I am trouble-shooting in re-inventing the wheel when I should instead be trouble-shooting new questions and pursuing experiments that at least have the illusion of forward momentum.<br />
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I have always been in smaller labs prior to my post doc, but this massive operation with 12 postdocs among many others is a whole new world for me. Etiquette is different. Expectations are different. Independence is different. I have met with my new PI once since I started 6 weeks ago, and still being in the early stage of needing to appear competent was too scared to bring up any questions of real substance.<br />
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The black hole of Early Postdocdom is eclipsed only by the ominous cloud that is HMO health insurance, and the anxiety over missing my first treatment in 7 years due to inherent absurdities of the "system".Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-72401858655371953702016-08-31T16:40:00.000-07:002016-08-31T16:40:16.504-07:00first guest post!Earlier this week I was thrilled to be able to write a <a href="https://portraitofthescientist.wordpress.com/2016/08/22/now-what/">guest post</a> for the <a href="https://portraitofthescientist.wordpress.com/">Portrait of a Scientist as a Young Woman</a> blog, of which I have been a huge fan for several years.<br />
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My first day at New Job is tomorrow. I expect it to be slow-going, as my project focus has changed drastically since I interviewed. In the midst of relief that I hadn't spent all summer becoming an expert in my earlier project (procrastination, for the win!), I am beginning to feel the true weight of entering into the unique position of post doc, a.k.a, Expert Novice. <br />
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<br />Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-30025172343650057202016-08-23T09:58:00.000-07:002016-08-23T09:58:26.217-07:00on taking "time off"Free time is a strange thing.<br />
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When I arranged the time interval graduation and beginning my postdoc, I was advised by several reputable and wide-ranging sources to take 2-3 months off if at all possible. It was, so I did.<br />
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I approached this time with dread, fearing that in three months away from the bench I would lose pipetting and critical thinking skills alike. That I would swiftly facilitate moving to New Job City and spend two months traveling but mostly bored out of my mind. That is not even remotely what happened.<br />
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It took two beastly months to move to New Job City, during which I also became H.K.'s interim administrative assistant as he generously moved his expanding Company to said city. When the dust began to settle, I worked furiously for weeks to transfer medical referrals and authorizations so that I would not miss my next treatment. A nightmare, which culminated yesterday in the most sketch and traumatizing infusion I have ever experienced [in 7 years, y'all].<br />
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The "to-read" tower beside my bed has been marginally reduced. Our new domicile now feels like a Home. I have taken up and played a substantial amount of Hearthstone. I've indulged in some delicious wine. Last week, our typical world travel logistics reversed as I followed H.K. to Europe for one of his conventions.<br />
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It's been time well-spent, and now that I have one week left before New Job begins, I am feeling a bit of panic. Because contrary to my early anticipation, I am not sure that I'm ready for it to be over. I'm mildly afraid to return to the bench, because although these last three months have been productive, I wanted to do so much more. And concern lingers that I may have forgotten how to pipet or design experiments.<br />
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Then, of course, there is the existential deliberation over whether the ability to refrain from reading literature for three months -- excepting the occasional abstract (which shocks me to my core, btw) -- means that I am not a serious scientist.<br />
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Through all of this, the Crohn's baby has been restless. Unleashing a roller coaster tantrum the likes of which I have not experienced in years. Although I have semi-successfully transitioned to a New Job City Gastroenterologist, and been "controlling" symptoms with diet, over-the-counter and donation-accepting remedies... let's just say I spent plenty of Euros visiting Europe's public toiletten/s.Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-38830097652669815272016-07-22T10:33:00.003-07:002016-07-22T11:59:03.312-07:00new beginningsIt seems to have been 3 years since I either gave up on and/or forgot about writing here. But having some time on my hands to revisit some old posts and comments, I'm so very glad to have these memories, thought processes and states of mind cataloged.<br />
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Two months ago, I successfully defended my PhD, something which I could barely fathom in a realistic way when I started this blog. Not only that, I will be starting a post doctoral fellowship in September in a lab whose size, prestige, momentum, warmth and [dare I say] luxurious environment I was not prepared for. Once again, H.K. and I relocated for my career. He and his career are flourishing. All of this I can review in a later post. It is likely worth reflecting in summary on my graduate experience and finding the way forward.<br />
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For now, a period has ended, and there is a way forward. But for the first time in my conscience existence, I don't know where it will lead. And that is both terrifying and exulting.Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-60873928087483363282013-03-06T11:03:00.000-08:002014-05-29T09:52:00.232-07:00this is who i amThis week, I have been attending my first international conference, specialized to my brain region(s) of interest. It has been absolutely phenomenal. The resort where it's being held is the nicest place I have ever stayed, the food is spectacular, I am making new acquaintances slowly but surely, and the content... is pretty much like losing ones virginity: it hurts [my brain] sooo much, but I can't get enough of it and I want to stay in this world forever.<br />
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It reminds me that I have been wrenched apart from this [<i>insert brain region(s)</i>] world by entering into a graduate program where the only expert around is yours truly. I love my program, the people in it and the experiences that I'm having, but I miss this other world like nobody's business. And I want back in.<br />
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I want back in so badly that I am already perusing for potential<i> </i>post graduate positions. One of the several amazing things about this conference is that it is small (~300 p), and there are many big players here. I sought out one of these fellows and engaged in an either triumphant (he remembers my name) or catastrophic (he remembers my name and blacklists me) conversation wherein I suggested that he made an unfair claim in a paper, and he ended up seceding that I was correct. That was my shining moment at this conference. [<i>UPDATE: I met said giant of neuroscience at a workshop several months later in Italy, and not only did he remember me, but we had a very pleasant conversation. I love science.</i>]<br />
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I had hoped that the poster session would go so well, but alas, I was the only therapeutics poster in the whole show and folks were much more anatomy and e-phys oriented this year. One of the either great or unfortunate things about this conference (depending on your focus) is that the overarching direction of the theme can be pretty biased depending on who is organizing it that year and how many of their cronies are the primary speakers. <br />
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As such, my poster was not the star of the show and I have not yet been offered a <i>post doc</i> position. Neither of these things are remotely reasonable expectations. But this is who I am. I set unreasonable goals with ridiculous standards, and that is how I am granted travel awards and fellowships, but it is also why I am sitting here tonight regretting that I did not try harder to be sociable. That I did not harass all of the people that I could have. That I did not reel them all in, and that I probably wont win the "Best Poster" award. Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-90430830548498167542013-02-11T12:23:00.001-08:002013-02-11T12:23:46.335-08:00do not be self-defeatistSunday night came and went with far too little trouble. No panic attack, no depressive bout. I'm sure the beer helped.<br />
<br />
I spent the weekend buying new Office software, backing up my home desktop computer in order to reformat to Windows 7 in order to be able to use said software, and furiously putting together 3 presentations. I practiced one of them so many times on Sunday that my tongue gave out on me. And then I decided to take a break. With beer.<br />
<br />
This morning, I am paying for the beer (2 bottles, btw) -- and probably the relaxation as well -- with unrelenting morning nausea and dizziness. How I made the bike ride to work is a mystery. How I will make it home later is an even greater mystery.<br />
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But in this physical unpleasantness, being thankful that all the undergrads are taking midterms this week and are not all up in my grill, I am making an honest effort to not be self-defeatist. A subtle metaphor to my weekend, it is somewhat like reformatting my default mode and replacing it with a new operating system. <br />
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My week is not doomed from the start, my anxiety is unfounded, and the academic world will not decide Wednesday afternoon that I am not fit for a PhD. The worst thing that can possibly happen is that I'll run 2 min over. Do not be self-defeatist, do not be self-defeatist, do not be self-defeatist.Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-20482249701601490752013-02-04T21:25:00.003-08:002013-02-04T21:36:07.025-08:00barely hanging onMondays are supposed to be my easy days. They are the only days where I do not have to teach, take a class, attend a seminar or schlep back and forth between the main and medical campuses multiple times. Mondays are supposed to by my get-your-shit-together days. I haven't had a good Monday since December.<br />
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The impetus of everything I am doing for this degree is that I love --generally speaking -- science itself. And I love that I have the freedom and opportunity to dance with it. This term particularly, I am severely lacking in that love. All I want to do is sleep. Because I don't sleep. I don't do yoga anymore. I barely eat and when I do it is desperately and not healthily. I don't relax... ever. I am so deeply freaked out by the awesomeness of my commitments this term that I am, in fact, barely functioning. When I finally do fall asleep, it is not for long, and when I am forced to get out of bed in the morning -- get ready for this one -- my ambitions for the day are drowned out by the abounding excuses to stay in bed. Y'all. This is a phenomenon generally unfathomable to the Ragamuffin. It's like my body is trying to speak to me... I can almost make it out... "<span style="font-size: x-small;">you have an autoimmune disease... yooooou jackaaaaass...</span>!"<br />
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Today, I hate everything and everyone and am even pissed off at my boss for no particular reason. I am pissed off at my brain and its lack of cooperation with my demands. I am pissed off at my demands for being so unreasonable. I am pissed off at 2 of my 3 undergrads for aspiring to nothing despite my most fervent efforts to make them love and commit to what they are doing under my supervision (so much so that I may have to "let them go"... seriously. I have never encountered this situation in my 5 years of mentoring 14 undergrads...). I am pissed off at my lack of creativity, and at my not being a good enough teacher or student.<br />
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My body hurts, my brain hurts, my heart hurts.<br />
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I want to go to sleep.Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-17917080032358732602013-01-26T17:40:00.000-08:002013-01-26T17:40:13.549-08:00Bed DayI haven't blogged in such a long time that I thought I might just give it up. But then I discovered that I was saying more things on Facebook than I ordinarily like to say on Facebook. So here I am.<div>
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The winter quarter of 2013 opened in a maelstrom of uncertainty, anxiety and a obligation. But today was Bed Day.</div>
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I slept in bed until 930am, I changed the bed sheets, I napped in bed until H.K. returned from his weekend trip. When H.K. returned we caught up and watched an episode of West Wing in bed, then I worked in bed while H.K. took his own nap. Now I am blogging in bed and watching TV. </div>
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It has been a solid, positive day.</div>
Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-65797953469040721822012-11-12T17:21:00.001-08:002013-01-26T17:41:01.749-08:00y'give me feeeeva<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Music for a special occasion, when your immune system actually decides to get involved. It's been over 2 years since my last full-fledged fever.</div>
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<br />Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-23249101517202582182012-11-11T10:30:00.000-08:002012-11-11T10:30:03.192-08:00things i need to work onI have an unfortunate tendency to let people walk all over me. Sometimes because it is not worth my time [read: energy expenditure] to argue, sometimes because I am -- despite my best efforts -- afraid of appearing the "bitchy woman".<br />
<br />
I am not a fan of when people try to one-up me constantly, especially when I have worlds more knowledge of the subject at hand than they do. This is not easy to avoid in any profession where men feel that they must appear the wisest and most knowledgeable. I test the waters on occasion when the opportunity arises. For instance, in lab the other day the topic vaccination came up and I mentioned the fascinating tidbit that Edward Jenner had created the first smallpox vaccination in 1796, which I knew because I had recently read the book <i>Pox: An American History</i> by Michael Willrich. My labmate responded, "oh yeah, absolutely" as if this was a very obvious fact of which he was obviously aware (which was not even remotely the case).<br />
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I am particularly not a fan of the general response to my willingness to ask people about their perspective or experience being interpreted as weakness or stupidity. For instance, when I observe that a colleague uses a different technique than I practice, I inquire as to the reasoning behind it. I am typically met with a verbose pontification explaining what is trying to be achieved and why their method is best. Thereafter, I typically share the method that I use and express interest in both methods working equally well (although, not to toot my own horn, but often it turns out that the way I do things is more appropriate).<br />
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An occasion arose this past week on Friday when I attended a lecture on the Jewish perspective on stem cell research. The talk was fascinating and I went home that evening and did some research on as many religious perspectives on stem cell research policy that I could find (note: there are surprisingly few books on this subject out there!). During the talk, the lecturer mentioned that in the 19th century doctors only received 1-2 years of schooling. A renowned professor in the audience then quipped, "of course: one year for blood-letting, and one for leeches." Needless to say, having read several books on the evolution of medicine in the 19th century, I cringed. I wanted so badly to raise my hand an mention that this was actually because at the time, the surgeons and dentists did many years of both apprenticing and schooling, and performed 90% of all medical procedures as the doctors themselves disliked physical involvement, believing that it separated them from God and made them "dirty". Of course, as meagerly as I would have phrased such a correction, I said nothing as I did not want to appear the "bitchy know-it-all woman".<br />
<br />
Clearly, there are some things I need to work on. Clearly, if the men around me have no filters for sharing whatever is on their minds -- be it correct or not -- I should not feel shame in doing so either -- particularly when I am correct. Clearly, I need to remove the sign from my forehead that says, "please, walk all over me and try to one-up everything I say." Clearly, I need to accept that I probably do not come off as bitchy or know-it-all in the slightest, and be more assertive and exert my presence and my contributions to the environment around me. Clearly, I need to start being more bitchy.Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-48942128853890472002012-11-01T21:49:00.000-07:002012-11-01T21:51:19.006-07:00inner peaceI left work early today. It was one of several instances lately when I have thrown up my hands before the ten-hour mark. And I began to feel that <i>inner grumble</i> that mobilizes behind a shield of guilt in preparation for the battle against your will to take care of yourself amid the insanity.<br />
<br />
Not only did I leave "early", I bailed on a last minute evening venture to see family up north. Instead, I made myself some soup (oh yeah, also have been working through a cold lately in prolonged immuno-compromised fashion) and watched a stupid movie.<br />
<br />
Right when the army of <i>inner grumble</i> set to charge, my phone rang. It was a call from a most dear of loved ones, with whom I had not spoken for the long long end of several months. A medical student herself, she had called to ask for my neurobiological expertise [read: expertise is her word]. The conversation extended, as long-craved ones do, far beyond the initial subject culminating in "so I'll get you from the airport and we'll grab dinner before you give your lecture!" But further, it ended in our both being reminded of who we are and how we once functioned when we were college roommates. I don't think it unfair to say that I was far more in need of that reminder than she, and far more in debt to her presence in my life than she to mine.<br />
<br />
Of late, I have underestimated myself to a greater degree than is standard. I have fallen into the stereotypy of academia: feeling like I have to do <u>everything</u> in my power [and out of my power] to impress people <u>at all times</u>, and making absurd excuses to myself for why I cannot always be impressive, and do everything, and be excellent at everything, and <u>be a brilliant scientist at every moment</u>. It's a very hard thing for me to admit that that is an unrealistic and unachievable expectation. For I have somewhat of a Sherlock Homes complex [read: not the genius, the obsession], or what Francis Crick calls an inclination toward <i>mad pursuit</i>. An obsession with making the puzzle fit and finding the right pieces and doing it all in a timely fashion [often inhuman] with minimal mishap and maximum impact. And I get upset when I cannot accomplish this while also being a marathon runner and party thrower and regular soup kitchen volunteer. <br />
<br />
This is because it seems, to me, that everyone around me is accomplishing all these things with perfect grace and professionalism. In reality, I have very flawed vision and graciously give all these accomplishments to all people, when in reality they are divided among many. My brain knows this, but my mind does not. And mind wins over brain <u>every single time</u>.<br />
<br />
My dearest, most remarkable and admirable friend who called this evening reminded me that I need to suppress the incessant need to impress people all the time in every aspect. That I have already impressed them, and need to take care of myself now. Advice that keeps her alive and in balance these days. And so I have quelled the <i>inner grumble</i>, and am at peace with my decision to bail on work and on social call to take care of myself. Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-8905167050476414352012-10-11T23:41:00.001-07:002012-10-11T23:42:13.794-07:00SfN 2012I love the Society for Neuroscience meeting. I am beyond excited to explore new research and people and see New Orleans -- well, the French Quarter at least.<br />
<br />
People act like traveling to this event is no big deal. And to most, it isn't. But organizing how I get to and from work each day and accomplish tasks and errands is as involved for me as traveling to this conference is for most people. I am now what can be considered a seasoned veteran of the SfN extravaganza. The meeting itself is dangling in front of me like an unimaginable treasure chest. So on the eve of flight, I am Zening like a mofo [read: zoning on too many episodes of The Walking Dead with H.K. beside me]. Checking off the packing of forms, drugs, ER addresses and food supplements like a master, and doing everything in my power to avoid those panic attacks that have been cascading me into Crohn's episodes for the last 4 months.<br />
<br />
This year I have 2 poster sessions, the first a requirement in light of my travel award. And real, purposeful shmoozing. I cannot wait.<br />
<br />
This is the least healthy that I have ever been prior to travel like this. And I'm so looking forward. And so anxious.<br />
<br />
<br />Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-2563141104617861542012-10-04T00:06:00.000-07:002012-10-04T00:06:02.601-07:00in which i meet my Crohn mateY'all: today, the most exciting news surfaced.<br />
<br />
Turns out, one of my most favoritest colleagues is a Crohn. <br />
<br />
!!!!<br />
<br />
I have never had an IRL friend who also has Crohn's! With the exception of the most outstanding Kara, who I had the privilege to meet but once [thus far]! But, y'all. A new Crohn in my life? In my lab?? Who I see on a daily basis?!<br />
<br />
This is so epic, in fact, that when said colleague approached me today to have <b><i>that serious and confident conversation</i></b>, my first reaction was "no shit!" after which I proceeded to smile with glowing eyes as she explained her current condition.<br />
<br />
Incidentally, I had just had that same <b><i>serious and confident conversation</i></b> with my BossMan after the <a href="http://howwecanteatanything.blogspot.com/2012/09/wherein-anti-inflammatory-diet-bites-me.html"><span style="color: #e69138;">episode from September 27th</span></a> which knocked me out for 5 days. He could not have been more concerned and considerate about the whole thing, by the way. That's 2 BossMans in a row that have regarded me with respect and kindness even after learning my [additional] shortcoming. Can I pick 'em, or can I pick 'em?!Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-53707430092006499312012-10-03T17:34:00.000-07:002012-10-03T17:34:00.335-07:00grad school priorities #12What I should have accomplished today:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Recovering from last week's trifecta of PCR, cloning and transfection failure.</blockquote>
<br />
What I did accomplish today:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Two free exquisite gourmet meals provided by my amazing building in honor of symposium day, and the purchase of ubernerd embroidered patches for my lab coat. Met a fellow Crohn right in my own backyard!</blockquote>
<br />
OMGSUCCESS!Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-11536734770348630312012-09-30T22:36:00.004-07:002012-09-30T22:36:34.208-07:00grad school priorities #11What I should be doing:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Relaxing and feeling good about my convalescent accomplishment of ascending a flight of stairs and going on a light walk today.</blockquote>
What I am doing instead:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Organizing and reorganizing tomorrow's calendar, freaking about about the lack of breathing room between obligations from 6am-5pm, and mourning over the preparations that I should have made during Saturday and Sunday instead of healing. </blockquote>
Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-19320111262493836372012-09-30T09:46:00.000-07:002012-09-30T09:57:05.047-07:00concerning the ineffectual techniques and person of my GI doctorLast week -- strangely, just a few days before the big episode -- I had an appointment with my GI doc. This was not a regular check-up, nor did he care to see how I was doing. I made this appointment because for the last 6 months, he has not been able to find my medical records. Yes, truly.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He says "they're here in the office somewhere, I know I didn't throw them out," Yes, <i>I know I didn't throw them out</i>. This is an actual thing that he said to me. For the moment, I withheld the threat of a HIPAA lawsuit.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The medically related subjects we touched on were these:</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
1) "So when was the last time you got a CBC/liver panel done?"</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Well, that was something I wanted to request since during the first 2 years that I was on Remicade, I had panels done once every 3 months and I haven't had one for over a year now [since I have been your patient]"</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Oh sure, yes let's have those done then." </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
2) "My 3-part-sagas have been infrequent and I finally found an antispasmotic that works, after 10 years of trying things that did nothing"</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Oh that's great, what is it?"</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Marijuana."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Oh..." He huffs a little and looks at the floor, disappointed. "Well have you tried everything else? Bentyl?"</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Yes, you prescribed me Bentyl last year, it didn't do anything"</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Clidinium?"</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Yes."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Hm." With that, he was out of ideas and proceeded to ask me about pot. A series of idiotic questions that made it abundantly clear that he had no idea how it is used medicinally. "So how did you get it? It had to be prescribed, right? So you go to a doctor who examines you and gives you a card? Do you smoke it?"</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Yes, it was prescribed. I use a vaporizer, which only releases the medicinals of the leaves. There is no burning, and no smoke."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Can you... I mean, are you able to do things afterward?"</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"If you mean, do I get stoned, no I do not. I take one hit and that is sufficient to relieve my abdominal pain within 10 minutes."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Huh. Because you know I have a patient who uses marijuana and smokes every day, and does nothing with his life and lives in his mom's basement. So..." </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"That is unfortunate, if only your patient had access to a psychotherapist who could help him work through Crohn's related depression and dependence. But not to worry, I do not have an addictive personality and I have the motivation to avoid drug dependence. I use it once or twice a week."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Well, I guess whatever works." Let me emphasize, at this point, that this is an OD, not an MD. An <b><i>osteopathic</i></b> physician whose schooling is specific to harmonizing the body, not just about which prescription drugs do what. This is a man who should at least know what marijuana is and how it is used medicinally. This is a man who <b><i>should be open to</i></b> non-pharmaceutical therapy, not excessively closed minded toward and ignorant about it.</blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
3) "So I'm trying this new anti-inflammatory diet and it seems to be going pretty smoothly. I've been weening into it for a month now. But still, I eat a banana and I'm constipated for 2 days."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
At this, he laughs. "Yeah, I have another Crohn's patient that that happens to." That was the end of his response. No commentary about how often I should be eating bananas, or other ways by which I might acquire potassium -- not that I need direction. "So you're not eating any grains then? No wheat, no rice -- well, except brown rice -- no oatmeal?"</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Well, oatmeal actually has anti-inflammatory properties," I corrected as nonchalantly as I possibly could. How does this guy have a gastroenterology practice and not know anything about marijuana or diets? How, I ask you.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Well alright, let me order those tests and I'll give you a call when the results come in." Really? You have nothing to say about my dietary choices? No recommendations based on my medication?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"What should I do about not feeling that great lately? Lots of constipation, nausea and the big D?" I asked desperately trying to get <b><i><u>any</u></i></b> kind of medical advice out of him before he shuffled me out the door.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Well, it's up to you. Do you feel like you want to increase the dose?"</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Is that something you recommend based on my symptoms, or do you think they are just IBS and not related to inflammation?"</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Well, it's really your call on the Remicade. You can increase or decrease it at your discretion." Again, not remotely answering my question or giving any kind of medical advice.</blockquote>
<br />
This is the kind of medical treatment that student insurance covers. God help me survive the next 4 years, or until H.K. gets rich enough that he can help me acquire real health coverage once Obamacare finally kicks in and I can no longer be denied for pre-existing.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
</blockquote>
Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-21110596854483843112012-09-29T14:31:00.001-07:002012-09-29T15:27:01.012-07:00wherein the anti-inflammatory diet bites me backOn September 27th, I woke up with stomach cramps. They weren't strong enough to prevent me from biking to work and I expected that they would wear off by mid-morning as they and nausea typically do. On this occasion, however, the opposite occurred and the cramps not only got stronger but began cycling through <b><i>the wave</i></b>, with which all Crohns are familiar.<br />
<br />
For those unfamiliar, <b><i>the wave</i></b> is a cycle of pain in which the sensation begins modestly and proceeds to grow like a swell before hitting a peak around which it dawdles for a time and then swells back down. Each cycle can last anywhere from 1-10 min depending on how violent is your episode. <br />
<br />
The day before, I was very proud to have gone my first complete day without eating any "illegal" foods on my self-imposed anti-inflammatory diet. Like a veteran, I weened myself away from refined sugars and carbs very slowly:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Breakfast: banana and blueberry smoothie (with coconut oil) </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Lunch: leftover steamed veggies and roasted fennel</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Supper: coconut flour biscuit with lox and raisin cashew carrot salad (with lemon juice)</blockquote>
Apart from the food -- none of which was new to my system nor should have done any harm -- the day was not without a very significant amount of stress, which no doubt contributed to the episode the following day.<br />
<br />
Since I had a masters and undergraduate student arriving on the 27th to be under my supervision, and the 4th day of 12 straight days of behavior to conquer, there was to be no standing down. By 10am, however, the waves had picked up their ardor and I found myself clutching my stomach while giving a microscope tutorial and a brief anatomy lesson.<br />
<br />
At 1130am it was time to traipse from the medical to the main campus (~10 min walk) to do behavior. By this time, the waves were such that when I walked I could feel every reverberation from the placement of my feet -- a shock spiraled up my spine each time my heel hit, the ball of my foot, my big toe, the rest of my toes, and as weight shifted back to the ball of my foot, to the side, and as my heel lifted and weight transfered to my ball and toes again. It took me almost 20 min to make that trip, slowing down in attempt to increased the fluidity of my steps in vain effort to avoid the reverberations.<br />
<br />
Just 2 hrs, I told myself, and H.K. will pick me up and bring me home to drug myself into oblivion and hopefully avoid a visit to the ER. To briefly elaborate, the wave is almost never a sign of a rupture or abscess. Four times in my Crohn history a day like this has been as debilitating: the first, when I was maybe 14 and no visit to the ER was made, and I was fine; the second, third and fourth when I was in my early 20s and made visits to the ER during which I was given morphine and a CT scan after which time I was sent home with a bottle of percocet and told that <b><i>nothing was wrong</i></b>. The all-too-familiar gab of a physician who doesn't give a shit. As a scientist, I can tell you via very basic logic, that if the body allows nociception to deliver enough consistent pain to knock a person off their feet, there is something wrong. There just is.<br />
<br />
I have no idea how I survived those 2 hrs of behavior. Honestly. I'm fairly certain that I took the opportunity to black the fuck out during my 20 min break. As to my subjects? I have tremendous and impressive control over the projection of my chakras. If they knew anything was amiss, I would be flabbergasted.<br />
<br />
In any case, I did not go to the useless and unhelpful ER. I did, however, take 20 mg oxycodone over the course of the evening, and a hit from my vaporizer each time I awoke in pain throughout the wee hours (1, 3, 4 and 5am). Yes, my friends, it was in fact that bad. On this day, I was only able to stomach a few spoonfuls of broth and 2 saltines, and that only to give the oxy something to mingle with.<br />
<br />
On Sept 28th, I did not move from my bed until 11am, at which time I needed to return to the lab to do more behavior. This was a most assured FML event. H.K. was wonderful enough to put off his own work for a few hours to stuff a Boost down my throat, drive me to my destination and run an errand for me while I did my thang.<br />
<br />
Upon returning home, I again relieved the still miserable but notably less excruciating pain with more drugs and slept until the evening. Not a BM to be found through this whole saga, mind you, nor was this gas related. So the remaining culprits are stress and food intolerance.<br />
<br />
Today, the 29th, I am sore, weak, bloated and nauseous, but the wave is gone. I performed my behavioral tests today in significantly less agony. And I am slowly adding back solid -- although not remotely anti-inflammatory -- foods back into my system. Saltines? Noodle soup? Jello? This is a documented instance in which anti-inflammatory food brought me to my knees and carbs and sugar revived me.<br />
<br />
<br />Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-86714397436504230602012-09-26T22:43:00.000-07:002012-09-26T22:43:50.668-07:00hi's and lo'sWhat is provoking this sudden flurry of posts??<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back on the anti-inflam diet today. Feeling good. Even rejected the primal urge to partake in <b><i>free</i></b> baked goods and coffee at a seminar.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">[leftover] coconut flour biscuits courtesy of <a href="http://www.comfytummy.com/2012/09/13/coconut-flour-drop-biscuits/"><span style="color: orange;">Comfy Tummy</span></a>, cashew raisin carrot salad. Dried ginger and cherries for dessert.</span></div>
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Eaten away by the hour, however, upon discovering this morning that I had made a mistake several months ago now that has been causing the problems in an experiment a colleague and I have been working on [on and off]. With each hour, it becomes more difficult to tolerate the mistake. Minimally my fault as I was a complete noob thrown into a DIY cloning situation with almost no direction other than an end goal. But months wasted nonetheless, and my own integrity disintegrating in the eyes of my colleague.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Funsies. Evening deprecation. Romanticizing about what a good night's sleep once felt like. Feeling thrice my age. Losing patience with my GI (elaboration to follow).</div>
Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-63314535540733664942012-09-26T11:05:00.003-07:002012-09-26T11:05:54.409-07:00fasting on yom kippurToday is Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year for the Jewish people. Every year on this day of atonement, I find myself mostly atoning for not fasting.<br />
<br />
I'm not a religious person, so why the quandary? Tradition. And unity.<br />
<br />
As I have alluded to in many a post, I am a history fanatic. It's a nigh unhealthy obsession. And with my particular strain of historical fanaticism comes a deep and bulging appreciation for, and need to be a part of, the strings that hold a people and their origin together. <br />
<br />
So I try. Sort of. I learn the stories, I dissect their legitimacy and find ways to base them in a reality ruled by physics. I recognize and have great respect for the meaning of the holidays. But I don't fast.<br />
<br />
Our ancestors sacrificed and suffered to make the world a better place for us, and I am doing my part to make the world a better place for my potential progeny. That, to me, is as equal a representation as any of my atonement. <br />
<br />
Lastly, and probably most relevant, I get really messed up when I don't eat. It necessitates being bedridden for the day (due to drugs and fatigue, etc.), which I cannot at present accommodate. So, this Jewess will atone for her sins (one of which, involving primer design, was just discovered this morning -- how delightful) by fixing the problems she has caused, and by eating enough to support the calories necessary to do so.<br />
<br />
Happy Yom Kippur! <b><i>Tzom Kal</i></b>! and, <b><i>g'mar hatimah tovah!</i></b><br />
<br />
<br />Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-89349552607305241522012-09-25T18:47:00.005-07:002012-09-25T22:31:40.549-07:00health food addictionHealthy food is like a drug. <br />
<br />
When I get on a diet kick, and realize that I have actually made time to plan, shop for and prepare healthy meals, I like to stay on that kick. Because when a day comes to interrupt my high where I cannot plan, shop for or prepare a creative, healthy and -- let's face it -- fun meal, I <b><i>crash</i></b>.<br />
<br />
At the end of a long and taxing day -- never mind how productive or fulfilling -- I feel even more awful eating things because they are easily accessible (read: carbs) than I did before my diet kick.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Curried tofu (bad) with celery,peas, avocado and tomatoes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Whole roasted cauliflower with thyme, basil olive oil sauce.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Avocado alfredo with zucchini noodles and roasted fennel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Almond butter cookies (no flour, good sugars, minimal egg).</span></div>
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Cooking healthy foods is vastly similar to reading a brilliant and dense book: it can be intimidating and take a good while to capture your enthusiasm, but once you get going you cannot stop reading for your life. Two months ago, I finally got back the "time" and enthusiasm to work on this anti-inflammatory diet that I've been tip-toeing around for ages. I have <b><i>loved</i></b> it. I have loved the innovation and simplicity of most of the recipes I've discovered. I have loved experimenting to make strictly SCD or Paleo recipes edible for myself (read: no dairy, no red meat, no peanuts, must have sushi). And I have loved <i><b>feeling good </b></i>about what I'm putting in my body (irrespective of whether I have an attack afterward, which occasionally is the case -- consequences of transitioning away from that to which one's gut flora is accustomed).<br />
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But sometimes I can't make it happen. Sometimes it is the middle of the week, and I have worked a 12 hr day and came home to a full sink (read: entire kitchen countertop) of dirty dishes, an empty fridge and a pile of clothes to alter/hem... and I just have no interest in making it to the grocery store. And H.K. and I get takeout.<br />
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Takeout is inevitably carb loaded (pho<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">)</span>, or sugar loaded (dressings/ candied nuts), and ordering food without dairy/red meat or carbs makes the meal completely not worth it. It does not help that I forgot to make breakfast this morning and ate a free bagel at work today... and that that is all I ate until I got home and inhaled some leftover roasted fennel from last night.<br />
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So tonight, I'm <b><i>crashing</i></b>, exhausted, and craving healthy food. Put it in my veins.<br />
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____</div>
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UPDATE: I grazed through a fish wrap with grilled veggies and dates from our go-to "South African"restaurant. Not as bad as could have been.Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-2166583370143258362012-09-18T15:41:00.001-07:002012-09-18T15:59:19.889-07:00sweet victoryIt should not take Blue Cross Blue Shield 6 months to figure out how to correctly bill a Remicade treatment.<br />
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It should not take over a year of my calling every representative of every department of Blue Cross Blue Shield to finally get to the one person who actually tells me the truth about how badly their company has fucked up my billing.<br />
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Blue Cross Blue Shield should not then be able to legally bill me retroactively for the amount of money they fuck-upedly did not charge me originally, after straight up lying to the tune of my having to only pay a $20 copay.<br />
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It should not take over a month for Blue Cross Blue Shield to process an E.O.B. for my Remicade treatment which I then have to call and have them fax to RemiStart. I should not then have to make a separate call to Hoag Financial Services to have a Payment Report faxed to RemiStart because the E.O.B. says "chemotherapy", not "Remicade".<br />
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I should not have to have RemiStart's reimbursement card get denied because Hoag Financial's "terminal" isn't connected to RemiStart's "terminal". I should not then be responsible for making sure that a "ticket" is submitted somewhere in debit card space so that that connection can be made. I am the <b><i>only</i></b> patient at Hoag Memorial Hospital that has a reimbursement plan with RemiStart? Really?<br />
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I should not have to do these things. Especially not in the midst of a time-sensitive behavioral experiment and while the IBS component of my Crohn's is bringing me to my knees. But I live in America. So when that godforsaken reimbursement payment goes through after a year of exhausting, harrowing, brutal financial stress and anxiety... victory is sweet.Ragamuffin, PhDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10561769322524106600noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181257392746445818.post-9402250277275382162012-09-13T22:35:00.000-07:002012-09-13T22:35:12.411-07:00Invisible Illness Awareness Week: Lucky OnesWe are the lucky ones who are well enough to work and to follow our dreams in any measure.<br />
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During Invisible Illness Awareness Week, I am reminded again of how fortunate I am to be in graduate school, and to be able to do what I love and be [somewhat] content with my performance. <br />
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With no exception, I am inspired by everyone I meet or read who works so hard to best their invisible illness throughout the day, each and every day. From the gentleman fighting MS who I met in the infusion clinic to fellow bloggers with crohn's, fibromyalgia, migraines or lupus to my best friend who owns her lyme disease. These folks are my inspiration. They feed my urge to work harder and take advantage of my "health", and they remind me that I am not alone in my confused and frustrated negotiations with my immune system. <br />
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