Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts

Our Kitchen: Then and Now

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Our kitchen table as we left it Oct. 4, 2008


When our family vacated our home in October of 2008 we left everything behind, including the contents of our spacious pantry. Because of legal action (which has since been dropped), we had our home inventoried. Every item in every room of our five-story home was accounted for and priced. The following is a partial list of the products in our pantry.
  • 1000 ISLAND DRESSING
  • ANNIES HOMEGROWN WHOLE WHT BUNNIES 5 OZ
  • ARCHER FARMS BLUEBERRY GRANOLA W/FLAX CER
  • ARCHER FARMS ORG. P-BUTTER CHOCO TRAIL MIX BARS 6 OZ
  • ASSURED FRESHNESS ITALIAN RICE
  • BACK TO NATURE P-BUTTER COOKIES 9 OZ
  • BARBARAS LITE RITE ROUNDS 11 OZ
  • BARILLA PECCALINI MINI PASTA 1#
  • BOBS RED MILL 10 GRAIN PANCAKE MIX
  • BOBS RED MILL GLUTEN FREE PANCAKE MIX
  • BOBS RED MILL ROLLED OATS 16 OZ
  • CAMPBELL SOUP
  • CAMPBELL SOUP LARGE
  • CAPRI JUICE 10 CT
  • CASCADIAN FARMS ORGANIC RASIN BRAN
  • CHEX MIX 15 OZ
  • CHEERIOS
  • CHEETOS 11 OZ
  • CHUNKY BLUE CHEESE DRESSING
  • CLIFF KIDS ORGANIC Z BARS 7.62 OZ
  • CRANBERRY SAUCE
  • DICED TOMATOES
  • EGGO SYRUP 23 OZ
  • EMERALD ALMONDS 11 OZ
  • FLORIDA NATURAL AWESUM FRUIT NUGGETS 14.4 OZ 14 POUCHES
  • GENERAL MILLS FIBER 1 PANCAKE MIX
  • HANSENS ORGANIC JR JUICE
  • HUNTS CATSUP 36 OZ
  • INSTANT RICE 28 OZ
  • ITALIAN DRESSING
  • JELLO INSTANT PUDDING
  • JIFFY CORN MUFFIN MIX
  • JOLLY TIME POPCORN 20 OZ
  • KEEBLER ICE CREAM CUPS 24 CT
  • KEEBLER TOAST & PBUTTER CRACKERS
  • KIKOMAN SOY SAUCE 20 OZ
  • KRAFT BARBQ SAUCE
  • KRAFT EZ MAC
  • MAC & CHEESE
  • MICROWAVE POPCORN
  • MUSTARD 14 OZ
  • ODWALLA BAR
  • OLIVE OIL 16 OZ
  • ORGANIC DICED TOMATOES
  • ORVILLE REDENBACHER POPPING OIL 16 OZ
  • ORVILLE REDENBACHER POPCORN 45 OZ
  • PAM 5 OZ SPRAY ORGANIC CANOLA
  • PAM 5 OZ SPRAY ORGANIC OLIVE OIL
  • PETITE DICED TOMATOES
  • PLANTERS TRAIL MIX
  • PRIVATE SELECT CORN TORTILLA CHIPS
  • PROGRESSO SOUP
  • QUAKER OATS YELLOW CORNMEAL
  • RANCH DRESSING
  • RITZ 1#
  • ROLD GOLD PRETZELS
  • SESAME OIL 5 OZ
  • SOUTHBEACH BARS
  • SPAGHETTI SAUCE
  • STACY SIMPLY NAKED BAKED PITA CHIPS 14 OZ
  • STOVE TOP TURKEY STUFFING
  • SUCCESS BOIL IN BAG RICE 14 OZ
  • TOWNHOUSE TOPPER CRACKERS 13.5 OZ
  • VILLA PASTA HAND CUT FETTUCINI 12 OZ
  • WORCESTERSHIRE SAUCE 15 OZ

As I look as this list, I clearly see our dependence on processed foods. Because of our health crisis, I was attempting to make some better choices with the addition of "natural" and "organic" products—but the food was still in a box or a can, with a long list of unpronounceable ingredients.

Re-learning to feed myself and my family has not been easy. I have stumbled along the way. But the subtle health improvements are undeniable, and the benefits of our unexpected journey unmistakable.

This post shared at Wellness Wednesdays.

Below is a tour of our kitchen now. The contrast reminds me that change doesn't happen overnight. It happens one box of Stove Top Stuffing at a time.

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The Scoop on Squash

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There's nothing like a fresh squash recipe to add flare to a cold weather meal.

There are a myriad of squash varieties in grocery stores this time of year. Wondering which is best for desserts or muffins? Or are you looking for one most suited to a vegetable dish flavored with herbs and butter?

Here are the results of our family's recent taste test which included four participants. (2 adults, 2 children.)


Least Sweet

Gold Acorn  (least popular in terms of  natural flavor.)

Golden Nugget (described by one of the participants as "earthy," with another comparing it to potatoes.)

Somewhat Sweet

Acorn (very neutral response to this variety.)

Butternut (same as above with one participant commenting on the nice flavor.)

Sweetest


Delicata (one participant selected this variety as sweetest, with all four commenting favorably on the taste.)

Buttercup (three votes as the sweetest, with all commenting on the appealing texture.)



My favorite way to prepare squash is to dehydrate it into Squash Leather.

View the recipe here.

Regardless of sweetness or preparation method, squash makes a great addition to any meal!
What's your favorite variety?

This article was posted on Nomday Monday.
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The Suit on the Leather Chair

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It was Saturday October 4, 2008. Chris arrived home at 8:30 p.m after a long flight from Chicago.

I was standing in the driveway ready to vacate our home. It had become clear that our home would never be safe for us. After two mold remediations, it was time to start over. (Read about Chris' perspective in the post "My Wife is Crazy.")

 I had only my purse and the clothes on my back. I had taken the kids to various friends' homes.

"Treat the home like it was on fire," the toxicologist advised us.

Chris decided to change out of his suit. He went upstairs and laid the suit on our new leather chair.

The suit stayed in the chair, and the shoes remained on the floor until they were tossed 19 months later. (We sold our home for the cost of our loan to avoid foreclosure. Everything was dumped. See the article "Why the Dumpsters?")

Six months after leaving the home, our daughter toured the vacated home with our legal team. (See more about our failed legal action in Chris's post  "It Isn't Fair.")


It was a haunting tour for Shannon, one captured in the following photos.

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Five Year Reflection

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October 4, 2008 our family vacated our home and everything in it. Toxic mold can do this – often ripping families apart in the process.

Fortunately our marriage survived. Our kids did too. It has not been easy, however. Often I have found myself in despair.

Despite the emotional ebb and flow, our family has made it to the five year mark.

The lessons have been tough. They have come with a price. But the rewards are great despite the harsh reality that life will never be the same.

Here are two of the many lessons I have learned during these difficult years.

1. There is no formula when it comes to health.

I was under the illusion that one treatment protocol would do the trick for all eleven of us. This included supplements, alternative treatments, conventional mold treatments as well as dietary intervention. When we started the GAPS Diet in August 2010, I awakened to the reality that each person's body chemistry is unique. Sauerkraut may work for one but not another. Some can have raw vegetables, others do better with juices.

I find this experience echoed in the writings of  Dr. J.H. Tilden (1851-1940), a  physician who believed that the body grew ill because of toxic accumulations in the gut. The cure, according to Tilden, happened when the patient listened to the needs of his body and adjusted his lifestyle accordingly.

"To be able to say how much an individual must eat, the physician must know how much appetite and how much digestive power the patient has. This knowledge is impossible. Every individual's special sense will always be his own private possession. . . In the matter of food and eating, the conventional belief and practice are that an individual weighing a given amount must consume a given amount of food. This theory may work all right with an engine, but not with a human being."

                     J.H. Tilden, M.D.,  Food: Its Influence as a Factor in Disease and Health, 1914

2. Healing takes time.

After leaving our home I had my sights set on a 2 year recovery. At the 3 year mark I was shocked with our remaining issues. At 4 years, I began to relinquish my sense of control. Today, 5 years later, I feel free of the timetable. I have surrendered to the process of recovery. If our progress in these last five years is any indication of what the next five years holds, then I am extremely optimistic and encouraged. Our health has improved dramatically. In the words of  Dr. Tilden,

"Those who are looking for quick cures are doomed to disappointment; for usual quick remedies are nothing more than palliation."

                      J.H. Tilden, M.D., Impaired Health: Its Cause and Cure, 1921

When I started this blog in December of 2008 I titled it “Our Mold Journey.” In 2011, I broadened it to “Our Health Journey, ” acknowledging the fact that mold is one of many factors when it comes to health. This year I’m expanding beyond our family’s story to everyone’s story. Life is a process. Some things, including emotional and physical recovery, take time. I’m excited about the new name: It Takes Time.

The graphic below symbolizes the uphill, but rewarding nature of the journey.


Past anniversary reflections:

One Year:  Anniversary Reflections

Two Years:  New Knowledge  (we were in the middle of a mold remediation in our current rental.)

Three Years: Looking Back, Moving Forward

Four Years:  One Step at a Time




This post was shared at Healing with Food Friday.




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Autumn Fun: Carve Up a Healthy Meal!

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Here's a way to celebrate the upcoming holiday that's both nourishing and fun. Carved stuffed peppers!


Carved Stuffed Peppers Recipe

"Carve" 4-6 large peppers and prepare stuffing mix. Use your favorite recipe or adapt this one to suit your family's tastes:
  • 1 lb. ground beef (grass-fed is optimal)
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 chopped onion
  • 8 oz. tomato sauce (I like Bionaturae brand)
  • 1 tsp. of your favorite seasoning blend (we like Italian)
  • 1 c. soaked quinoa (see this recipe)
  • Salt and pepper to taste

I also try to add some raw liver to the mix. For more suggestions on incorporating liver into your diet, see this previous post.

Arrange carved peppers in baking dish. Steam the peppers by covering the bottom of the pan with a thin layer of water and cooking for 10 minutes at 375 degrees. Once the peppers have softened a bit, remove from oven and pour off water. Stuff peppers with beef mixture and continue baking at 375 for 50 minutes or until cooked thoroughly. Serve and enjoy!
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It's Not Fair

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This is a guest post by my husband Chris, reflecting on our journey through the mire of losing our home to toxic mold.

What’s happened to you is not fair. Whatever it is, a diagnosis, the way someone treated you, perhaps betrayed you, someone in authority made an unfair decision, it’s not fair and you’re hurting. And you probably tried to do everything right.

We did. We saved money, bought a house, made sure it was a sound investment, made wise decisions. We bought a home in a good neighborhood, little crime, wonderful people who lived around us. And one day we found ourselves faced with the choice of staying in our home and watching our children get sicker or getting out.

But it wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair that we had to leave it all behind. It wasn't fair that we did not one but two remediations to make the house “clean” again. It wasn't fair that my son couldn't walk without falling down because of the constant vertigo. It wasn't fair that we lost our 2 dogs in the process.


On and on the unfairness went, swirling like water down a drain.

The computers, the books I’d kept since I was a child, the rare Dean Koontz writing book, the pictures, videos, computers, iPods—it wasn’t fair that we had to close the door and leave all that stuff behind. Can’t we clean it? Can’t we just take that guitar I bought in high school?

Our insurance company didn't cover mold. We had paid the premium for a couple of decades and never had one claim.

So we sought a legal remedy. Not to get revenge, but to get relief. This wouldn't make it fair, but it would at least make things equitable. It would make them right. We had a team of lawyers willing to take the case on contingency. Both the builder and the first remediator made major errors. We had the documentation, we had the proof that things weren't fair.

But the legal action didn't work. A clause in the builder’s insurance let him off the hook. As for the remediator, his business was a dry well.

Slowly it became clear there would be no justice. This intensified the sadness and sorrow and anger. We felt violated and vulnerable and adrift on the Unfair Sea.

This is when I learned a hard lesson—and it takes a person to a different side of the brain, another door to the soul. As long as I focused on what I had lost and how unfair things were, I was looking in a rear view mirror and missing the road ahead.

It’s normal to want to hang onto my stuff. It’s understandable that I want things to be fair. But there comes a point where I realized that with every choice I made, I was moving in one of two directions: toward life or toward something less.

It was agonizing at the time to leave our things, our home, the stuff we had accumulated. Now, five years later, with improving health it’s much easier to see. If I knew then what our choices would move us toward, it would have made it easier—but the choice is difficult in the moment.

If there were a fire in the house, there’s no question we would have run. If there were a tsunami wave heading for us, we would headed for the hills, no question. But because we couldn't see our enemy, we didn't realize the danger.

Fires aren't fair. Floods aren't fair. They destroy everything in their path. Mold and its effects on a family are not fair. But moving your eyes from the rear view to the road ahead helps in choosing life. And it’s not just one choice, but many, step by step, that will lead you forward.
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Unexpected Lessons

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The year I turned 50, my world unexpectedly collapsed. My 49th year was spent struggling with aging issues. I wondered if I should keep coloring my hair, questioned why I was so depressed at the thought of turning 50, and grieved that my youth was growing distant. As the health of my children deteriorated and I found myself in one emergency room after another, I put my aging issues on the back burner.

I recently turned 56. I've had time to reflect on growing older. I've also had time to think about suffering, loss, depression, and grief in ways I would never have imagined. I haven't resolved my struggles. In fact, I have more questions than ever. But I've learned to live with them and embrace them. As Rainer Maria Rilke suggested, "Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves."



I celebrate this milestone with humble gratitude that, despite my weaknesses, I have learned some valuable and unexpected lessons.

Here are five things I've learned since turning 50:
  1. Hard doesn't mean impossible.
    "Can't" was a big part of my inner vocabulary. I didn't realize this until we were faced with seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Now I understand that life may be hard or difficult, but not impossible. "I can't" has become "I can try."
  2. My voice matters.
    As our medical needs grew in the days following my 50th birthday, I found myself at the mercy of more than 60 medical professionals. I felt voiceless and inadequate, drowning in a sea of expertise. Something was wrong and I knew it. I faced a difficult choice. Do I listen to the experts or trust my instincts as a mother? My decision to listen to my mother's heart has made all the difference.
  3. Embrace reality.
    As life became increasingly difficult, I found myself idealizing my past. "If only" and "I wish" kept my heart and mind directed to our old life. "Someday" kept me idealizing our future. Only when I chose to embrace reality did I find myself able to connect with our present. Today is all we have and all we're meant to live.
  4. My health is my own.
    When our health declined I looked to a doctor to fix us. I resisted responsibility for my family's health. After exhausting our options, I knew it was time to try a different path. Food became our best prescription for recovery. My kitchen became our pharmacy. Taking charge of one's own health is both empowering and rewarding.
  5. Keep going.
    My health and mind collapsed the day our world collapsed, and I struggled to get through every minute of every day. My unrelenting fatigue, along with the sudden loss of my mother, took me deeper into despair and discouragement. I hung onto one thought: "Don't give up." Even if I wasn't "succeeding" and our lives were still in turmoil, at least I was trying. There is much to gain simply by taking the next step.
I no longer see aging as something to deny and defy. Now I understand the truth. Aging is both a privilege and an opportunity, as expressed in these words by poet Robert Browning:

Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be . . .


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Angelina Jolie, Breast Cancer, and Me

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In May of this year, Angelina Jolie shared her decision to have a double mastectomy to reduce her risk of cancer, noting an 87 percent risk of breast cancer and a 50 percent risk of ovarian cancer. According to Jolie, "Once I knew that this was my reality, I decided to be proactive and to minimize the risk as much I could."

As I read her story, I could not help but think of my own preventative breast cancer journey. I too am a prime candidate for breast cancer. My mother had breast cancer and both of my grandmothers were diagnosed with it. As I processed her decision, I was struck by how much we have in common:
  • Both of us are intent on surviving for the sake of our kids.
  • Both of us are linked with a man who supports our decisions. (My husband even looks like Brad Pitt—at least in my eyes!)
  • Both of us have made the decision to be proactive.
My preventative journey started in 1987, the year I turned 30. My doctor ordered a mammogram because of my risk factor. I obediently had a mammogram every year for the next 20 years.

I had one scare in those years, when I was in my late 40s. I contemplated anticipatory removal of one or both breasts. But my scare ended with good news, so I put the thought on the back burner.

The year I turned 50, my world collapsed. A botched mold remediation launched our family into multiple emergency rooms, operating rooms, and waiting rooms. I had little time to think about my annual mammogram. For the first time, I let it go.

In 2008 we abandoned our home, along with our possessions, and sought refuge in the desert. I awakened to new possibilities for breast cancer prevention.

I turned to natural living and serious detoxification. I began a healing regimen that I continue to this day.

I live with less fear than ever with regard to my high risk factor. Not because I have any guarantees. Much like Angelina Jolie, I'm confident I'm being proactive.

Here are six ways I'm fighting breast cancer—ahead of time.
  1. Limit my exposure to toxins, especially mold toxins. I am grateful now for my crash course in environmental health. I understand the significance of high indoor mold counts and the need for ventilation, and vigilance when it comes to water leaks and water intrusion. Species of aspergillus mold metabolize aflatoxins which are recognized by the World Health Organization as carcinogens. As much as possible, I avoid pesticides and synthetic fragrances.
  2. Remain meticulous about my diet. Sugar feeds pathogens in our bodies. I avoid sugar in all forms, including starches. I adhere to a grain-free, nutrient-dense diet with an emphasis on green juicing. I include fermented foods to help boost my immune system.
  3. Consistently practice colon cleansing. I consider this the most proactive of all my decisions. I base this on the Gerson Therapy, an alternative cancer treatment. Coffee enemas are used to stimulate the liver to detoxify and cleanse the body of pathogens. For more on coffee enemas, see A Candid Colon-Cleansing Conversation.
  4. Wear loose-fitting bras or no bra at all. It makes sense to me that tight-fitting clothing, especially a bra, can constrict the valuable lymph tissue from flushing toxins from the body. A controversial study linking bras with breast cancer is documented in the book Dressed to Kill by Sydney Ross Singer and Soma Grismaijer.
  5. Practice dry skin brushing daily. Skin brushing stimulates the lymphatic tissue to do its job of clearing toxins. It's one of the simplest yet most effective ways to detoxify and boost the immune system. As a bonus it softens your skin, and is especially beneficial for aging skin. For more details, including methods and sources, see The Benefits of Dry Skin Brushing.
  6. Use only personal care products that are safe enough to eat. Synthetic deodorants and antiperspirants containing aluminum have been linked to breast cancer. The underarm contains key lymph tissue. Why take a chance? I now use a homemade herbal deodorant when needed, rhassoul clay for shampoo, homemade tooth powder for toothpaste, and homemade soap for general cleansing. I have such a passion to help others enjoy the rewards of all-natural personal care, I have launched a line of chemical-free products, including deodorant, at Just So Natural Products.
There are many other natural preventative measures, as outlined in the recent article by natural health expert Dr. Joseph Mercola, Why Medicine Won't Allow Cancer to Be Cured.

Angelina and I have made different choices when it comes to our genetic predisposition. Neither of us wants to live in fear. Our hope is to live life to its fullest, embracing each day as it comes. A worthy goal—breast cancer or not.

(Photo courtesy of Dreamstime)
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Clean Water Adventure

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I shared about our recent adventure to a gravity-fed spring with HandPicked Nation, a leading proponent of the Real Food Movement. In the article I talk about FindaSpring, a community-based website offering an interactive listing of natural springs around the world. When I realized such a spring was within an hour's drive, I was elated. Here's an excerpt from the article:
The spring is located at the top of Mt. Lemmon—the perfect spot to cool off when weary of the blazing summer temperatures. We brought numerous glass bottles as well as a five-gallon plastic water bottle. The trail was a bit rocky but we reached our destination awaiting the sound of flowing, fresh water.

We heard no such sounds. Only a trickle of water dripped from the pipe that connects this golden aquifer with the outside world. A passerby stopped to check on the spring's status. She told us there was no sign of water the week before. "Other times of the year, it's gushing," she said. (Which is exactly how I imagined the spring based on this video found at FindaSpring.com.)

However, our labor was not in vain. Four of us formed a line as one person "caught" the water in a thermos, while another poured, and another passed it to the top. It took more than a half hour, but we left with nearly two gallons of water. The taste was as pure as I expected. FindaSpring offers no guarantee on the water quality and even suggests testing the water if you're not sure. We were willing to take the risk and enjoyed every gulp.

Upon our return home I took our remaining living water and over the next few days transformed it into a refreshing batch of kombucha. Come monsoon season we'll head back up to the top of Mt. Lemmon to see if our golden water has begun to flow again. We'll take our five-gallon bottle just in case.

Is there a gravity-fed spring near you? Check out FindaSpring.com and begin your adventure.
To read the article in its entirety, visit the HandPicked Nation website.

Here's a photo of Chris and Colin at the site of the trickling water.

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When Dreams Come True

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When we left our home in October 2008, Kristen was a high school freshman, filled with dreams of starring in a high school musical. When recovery became harder than expected, we decided to skip high school completely.

Kristen was our seizure child. She was diagnosed with complex partial disorder six months after moving into our Colorado home. We found her the night of her first seizure standing in a closet, fixated on a certain area of the ceiling. Eight years later our first-grade son would point to this exact location, asking about the water marks. (This haunting memory is detailed in this previous post.)

We immediately put Kristen on seizure medications. We experimented with Trileptal, Depakote, Keppra, Topomax, and Lamictal over the years and watched as she became fatigued and less verbal, struggling with handwriting and cognitive function. Never once did we consider the cause of her seizures. The first time I read any medical expert suggesting we look at the cause was two years after we left our home, in Dr. Natasha Campbell-McBride's book Gut and Psychology Syndrome.
The majority of epilepsy, particularly in children, is classified as idiopathic, which is a medical term meaning 'we have no idea what causes it.'
Campbell-McBride lists the vitamin deficiencies and multiple side effects that accompany seizure medication, making the point that:
Anti-epileptic drugs work by suppressing brain activity: they neither cure the condition, nor do they prevent susceptibility to seizures . . . due to suppression of the brain activity, these children are not able to learn well, they do not do well academically or socially and their personality changes. I have lost count of the loving parents who described their child as a ‘zombie’ due to anti-epileptic medication. (p. 78)
I would add my name to the list as we put Kristen on a 504 plan with our school district simply to allow her to take a nap or rest each day at school. We tried to take her off medication once in those seven years, but the seizure activity quickly returned.

In her chapter on epilepsy, Campbell-McBride discusses the history of seizure management which, prior to the discovery of anticonvulsant medication, relied strictly on diet. Hippocrates treated epilepsy with fasting. The ketogenic diet, developed in the 1920s at the Mayo Clinic, led to a 95 percent seizure control success rate with a 60 percent cure rate. The ketogenic diet provides a 4:1 ratio of fat to the combined weight of carbohydrate and protein, which is called a ketogenic ratio. The reason the diet works remains a mystery; however, according to Campbell-McBride:
It appears that ketone bodies are just used by the brain as an energy source while the body is dealing with the real cause of the seizures . . . By severely restricting carbohydrates in the diet the activity of pathogens in the body is also severely restricted.
When we connected the toxicity of our home with the health of our family, including Kristen's seizures, in the spring of 2008, we took a chance and weaned Kristen off her seizure medication. As far as we know, she remains seizure-free. Little did we know we would one day embrace a diet similar to the ketogenic.

When our detox began in full force in 2009, Kristen jumped on board with all of our kids. One of her numerous symptoms included severe knee pain which hampered her desire to run and walk. Acupuncture helped, but the severity of the condition remained a mystery.

One day I read about the health issues associated with root canals. Kristen had a root canal done on an upper front tooth after tripping during seventh-grade track. The article explained the bacterial "goo" that gathers in the dead tissue, draining the individual's immune system. Another article described the connection between this particular tooth and knee pain. With Kristen's blessing her front tooth was removed in the spring of 2011. I have written in this previous post about the incredible benefits Kristen experienced.

Her knee pain improved, but her anxiety, verbal challenges, chemical sensitivity, and chronic fatigue remained. She completed her GED with the help of a tutor in the spring of 2011 and enrolled part-time at our local community college.

Kristen kept up through Facebook with the parade of musicals performed at her former high school and continued to mourn the loss of her dream. I felt her loss and pain on a daily basis. Would it have been better to stay in Colorado? Questions and doubts were my daily companions for many months and years after leaving our home.

I wondered how my kids would one day view our difficult decisions. Last fall, Kristen wrote an essay letting me know that deep down, kids know that sometimes parents do hard things for loving reasons.
About four years ago this coming October my mom did the bravest thing I have ever known anyone to do. She convinced my family to leave our belongings and everything in our five-story house behind. We moved out of our beautiful home and I don’t think anyone understood why. There was a lot of anger and my mom felt doubt and sadness. Yet she stayed strong. We left our home because it was infested with toxic mold. After two remediations that made all of our chronic symptoms worse she decided enough was enough. She moved us out . . .
Kristen went on to describe our numerous medical experiments that left us with a radical diet as our final option. Exhibiting wisdom beyond her years, Kristen wrote a paper for her English class linking toxic mold with the symptoms experienced by the main character in the classic short story, "The Yellow Wallpaper." (Read her paper here.)

Kristen took an acting class at the college and began voice training in earnest. She began to think about auditioning for one of the college's musicals, but her ongoing fatigue and remaining health issues kept her focused on recovery as well as her photography.

Three months ago Kristen decided it was time. She prepared 24 bars of music and with overwhelming anxiety auditioned for Pima Community College's winter musical, All Shook Up. She just wanted to get in, to be part of the cast. She would be happy to make the chorus. Or, dreaming big, she would perhaps get some small speaking role where she could display the talent that's been waiting all this time.

All Shook Up debuted Thursday night. I wept when Kristen walked onstage, and wept as she took her final bow. She wasn't in the chorus, she was the lead, playing "Natalie" and "Ed." Someone else saw what I have seen all along, and that is that dreams can come true. Not always the way we've seen or imagined.

Sometimes it's better.

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Toxic Togetherness

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Join my husband, Chris, and me on Tuesday, February 26 for another Toxic Talk Tuesday on Chris Fabry Live! We'll be discussing "Toxic Togetherness: How to Stay Together in a Toxic World." What can you do when one or more family members are not on board with healthier living? What are some practical ways to integrate healthier foods into your child's diet? Tune in live to Moody Radio at 2:00 p.m. Central, or visit the Chris Fabry Live! website to listen online.
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Toxic Mold and The Yellow Wallpaper

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Kristen wrote the following paper in November of 2012 for her college English class.

 It looks at the short story "The Yellow Wallpaper" and considers the possibility that toxic mold lurks behind the walls.

The Deathly, Decaying Depiction

Charlotte Perkins Gilman, the author of “The Yellow Wallpaper,” committed suicide at the age of seventy-five. She claimed that because she was already destined to die from her inoperable breast cancer, she had the right to do it peacefully rather than painfully. Gilman was a woman who was particularly connected with the dark parts of life, including her obsession with experimental chloroform. The style of her stories is a reflection of that. “The Yellow Wallpaper” is a story in which there is darkness and actual toxicity. The way she describes the yellow wallpaper and the main character’s symptoms in the story are eerily similar to an exposure to toxic black mold. Based on specific research and the diction, imagery, tone, dialogue, characterization, and point of view of the story, “The Yellow Wallpaper” is not only a description of a woman dealing with post-partum depression, but also an apt depiction of a toxic exposure in a mold-infested house.

Gilman was a unique and peculiar woman. Her many experiences with death shaped who she was as a writer and philosopher. Her beliefs in the afterlife were non-existent and her views on death were almost nonchalant. As Denise D. Knight wrote in “The Dying of Charlotte Perkins Gilman,” Gilman “viewed death—her own and others’—with a considerable amount of detachment.” Gilman had her first run-in with death when she was five years old. Her younger sister died at nine months of age. Gilman’s other encounters with death happened between the ages of thirteen and twenty-six. These deaths included her grandmother and great-grandmother, her childhood friend, Mary Diman; her student, Isabel Jackson; Sidney Putnam; Conway Brown; and, her sister-in-law, Julia Perkins. Each death was accompanied in her journal with remarks of sadness for the relatives of the deceased rather than the actual victim. Not only was Charlotte detached from human deaths, she would also experiment with killing her cats. She killed three cats, two in 1883, and one in 1925. She used the same method of killing her cats as she used on herself.

Gilman was a troubled and depressed person. When she was six-and-a-half-months pregnant with her first husband’s child, she wrote in her diary, “Walter… cannot see how irrevocably bound I am, for life, for life. No unless he die and the baby die… there is no way out” (Diaries 332 as cited in The Dying of Charlotte Perkins Gilman). Her daughter, Katherine Beecher Stetson, did live, as did Gilman’s depression. Her suicidal tendencies tell a great deal about who she was as a person. Although she felt that death was inevitable and not to be mourned, it also seems that there was a deep sadness that was simply hidden. “Despite her ideological view of death, the loss of so many acquaintances in the prime of their youth, coupled with her own dark thoughts of suicide, must have been enormously unsettling” (The Dying of Charlotte Perkins Gilman).

“It was not intended to drive people crazy, but to save people from being driven crazy, and it worked,” Charlotte Perkins Gilman wrote in her essay “Why I Wrote The Yellow Wallpaper.” Gilman wrote this story because she had her own experience with depression, the issue with which the narrator struggles. After Gilman became engaged to her first husband, Walter Stetson, her depression increased. She had deep anxieties about being married to Stetson and the perceived confinement that would entail. Within a year of being married, Gilman gave birth to her daughter and experienced a severe case of post-partum depression. By their fourth anniversary, Gilman and Stetson were separated. She sent her daughter to live with Stetson and his new wife. The events in her life coincide with the darkness and depression that she wrote about in “The Yellow Wallpaper”.

The diction Gilman uses in her story is distinctly related to toxic mold exposure. In the beginning of the story, the main character states in her journal, “there is something strange about the house-I can feel it” (Gilman 315). Later, as the story and the narrator’s insanity build, the words used become potent descriptions of mold. For example, the narrator declares that the wallpaper “dwells in my mind so!” (Gilman 320), suggesting the mold is infecting her brain, making her fixate on any subject that relates to the wallpaper. As the wallpaper begins to occupy the narrator’s mind more and more, she begins to see a “woman” behind the wallpaper. If one examines the possibilities of what this woman could be, one might come to the conclusion that it is some delusion caused by the mold in the wall. Since the main objective of the speaker wants to achieve is to free the woman from behind the wallpaper, the woman could represent a delusional lure designed to make her peel the wallpaper off in order to expose the mold. In another entry, the wallpaper is described as “hideous enough, and unreliable enough, and infuriating enough, but the pattern is torturing” (Gilman 323). This is a perfect example of Gilman’s expansive and descriptive diction. She writes, “I find it hovering in the dining-room, skulking in the parlor, hiding in the hall, lying in wait for me on the stairs” (Gilman 325). The words hovering, skulking, hiding, and lying in wait convey a sense of gloom. Her writing also has a sense of heaviness, much like mold.

The imagery in Gilman’s short story is a prominent literary element. It makes the reader react strongly. All of the descriptions of the yellow wallpaper are ominous and intense. “It is a dull yet lurid orange in some places, a sickly sulphur tint in others” (Gilman 316). Adjectives like lurid and sickly make it nearly impossible for the reader to tear their eyes away from the story. In another entry in which the narrator is becoming more and more consumed with the wallpaper she writes, “There is a recurrent spot where the pattern lolls like a broken neck and two bulbous eyes stare at you upside down” (Gilman 318). This sentence makes the reader feel uncomfortable and yet fascinated with the central character and her mental illness that seems to be caused by the wallpaper.

The tone is very much like mold; it is hidden yet heavy. Also similar to mold, the tone grows with the story and could be defined as disturbing. There is a mental dissonance throughout the entire story. In a literary breakdown done by Novel Summaries Analysis, it is written that at the beginning of the story, the narrator “…writes with humility, stating that while she does not agree with her treatment, her husband probably knows better than she what is good for her” (Novel Summaries Analysis). The narrator’s tone grows darker as she lives longer in the mold-infested room. She admits to more conflicts within herself and against her family. Her obsessions and her insanity grow deeper and more fervent with every journal entry. By the end, her statements are disjointed and complaining. Unfortunately, she submits to the darkness, or mold, in the room and herself.

Dialogue is seldom used in this story due to the diary-type writing, but when it is used, its effect on the reader is remarkable. There is very little conversation throughout the story and every exchange involves the main character and her husband, John. The narrator’s conversations with John are often normal, but the commentary in her journaling makes their reactions seem abnormal and dejected. Every dialogue suggests a disconnect between the two of them; John does not understand his wife’s illness or her need to get out of the sickening house. One conversation they have is a perfect example of the misunderstanding between the spouses in the context of a toxic exposure. “’I don’t weigh a bit more, nor as much; and my appetite may be better in the evening when you are here but it is worse in the morning when you are away!’ ‘Bless her little heart!’ said he with a big hug, ‘she shall be as sick as she pleases!’ (Gilman 323). John’s belief that his wife’s illness is in her head and perfectly curable makes their marriage dysfunctional. His constant phrases about her “fantasies” and disapproval of her illness make his wife feel small and despondent. Gradually, the speaker begins to rebel against her husband’s “rest cure” and in the final scene she creeps over him and says, “I’ve got out at last in spite of you and Jane! And I’ve pulled off most of the paper, so you can’t put me back!” (Gilman 330). Each conversation has a purpose and is not wasted.

The author’s use of characterization reveals a great deal about the speaker’s issues. The narrator is the most prominent, but both John and Jennie are strong characters that are not easily forgotten. How can one forget the demeaning and dismissive nature of John, or Jennie’s blinded air? The characterization also shows different reactions to the moldy wallpaper. All three of the occupants of the house have symptoms of mold exposure. Each of them has some sort of fascination with it. The narrator obviously has the most severe reaction but even Jennie and John feel the need to pay attention to it. The narrator even states in her journal that she feels sure “John and Jennie are secretly affected by it” (Gilman 328). The fact that the word affected is used and not intrigued or, perhaps, attracted, suggests that the wallpaper has something physically wrong with it. It affects, not interests people. In one of her journal entries, the main character confesses she has grown afraid of John because, “He seems very queer sometimes” (Gilman 324). This is a sign that John is changing with the rest of the household. He grows more aggressive and spends more time out of the house, on “serious cases” (Gilman 320). Both John and Jennie are caught studying the wallpaper and, when the narrator finds Jennie studying the wallpaper, she gets angry, almost protective of her wallpaper. Jennie is startled and explains that “the paper stained everything it touched, that she had found yellow smooches on all my clothes and John’s, and she wished we would be more careful!” (Gilman 324-5). This strange fixation on the area of the yellow wallpaper that is infected is an experience most people would intuitively have if they found mold and didn’t know it.

    "The Yellow Wallpaper” is written like a journal through the point of view of the main character, whose name is never revealed to the reader; although there have been critics who have argued that her name is Jane, as stated in the last paragraph. Having the story told from the point of view of the narrator provides a striking read to the audience. If this story were told in the third person, one would not understand the turmoil and mental misery the protagonist is facing. When read like a journal, the audience feels like they are apart of the story, experiencing the same feelings as the main character. This makes the story unnerving but also eye opening to the horrible experience a depressed or insane person faces. “By the end, the structure — short paragraphs, fragmented and disjointed thought patterns — reflects the narrator’s mental disorder” (The Yellow Wallpaper).
             
In “The Surprising Truth about Mold” written by Barbara Loecher she writes, “…all molds can potentially cause rashes, headaches, dizziness, nausea, allergic reactions, and asthma attacks.” In Edward Shanessa’s article, it is said that residence “in damp housing was […] linked with reported problems with physical energy, sleep, and social isolation” (Dampness and Mold). Several of these symptoms are demonstrated in “The Yellow Wallpaper.” For example, the speaker is constantly talking about her fatigue, lack of appetite, and dizziness. In almost every entry there is some mention of her “laziness.” Once, when she is describing the wallpaper she says one area goes “round and round and round—it makes me dizzy!” (Gilman 326). The storyteller also describes the wallpaper as reminding her of fungus several times: “The outside pattern is a florid arabesque, reminding one of a fungus” (323), “There are always new shoots of fungus” (325), and “waddling fungus growths just shriek with derision!” (329). In the story the speaker states that there is a distinct smell that follows her in her hair and clothes, even when she is outside. She tells the reader that the smell is particularly strong on damp or wet days. Both of these conjectures correlate with Loecher’s article about mold; the article states that if one notices a musty smell, one has mold. It says mold will hitchhike “into your home in dust and dirt on your clothes and shoes, on air currents and in water that enters through cracks in walls and foundations” (The Surprising Truth). All of these ideas help to formulate the cause of the narrator’s discorded experiences, as does this excerpt from Dr. Joseph Mercola’s article:

Mycotoxins are chemical toxins present within or on the surface of the mold spore, which you then unwittingly inhale, ingest, or touch. These mold toxins are extremely potent and often affect nearly every organ system in your body. Some effects resemble radiation sickness. Some are neurotoxic and produce central nervous system effects, including cognitive and behavioral changes, ataxia and convulsions. Approximately 70 percent of the people with confirmed exposure to toxigenic molds exhibit significant neurotoxicity” (The Common Toxin).

Many of the symptoms described by Mercola are exhibited in “The Yellow Wallpaper.” The main character has severe mental disabilities that become clear as the story progresses. In fact, even John has behavioral changes as well. The narrator confesses to noticing a change in John’s demeanor. Another quote from Dr. Mercola on the subject of the mold/brain connection is eye opening.

“Fungal toxins can affect your brain, and if so, alter your emotional state. Neurological symptoms are commonly seen with mold toxicity. This phenomenon, combined with the fact that mold exposure is often associated with psychologically traumatic environmental disasters such as hurricanes and floods, makes for a complex clinical picture that can superficially appear to the uneducated clinician as depression, anxiety, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

Therefore, it's not uncommon for people suffering from chronic mold-related health problems to be prescribed antidepressant drugs, as if to say the problem is all "in their heads" and lacks any physiological cause. If your psychological symptoms are caused by fungal or chemical exposure, an antidepressant will DO NOTHING to neutralize the toxins causing your psychological symptoms, much less your physical symptoms” (Forget Antibiotics).

In other words, many do not understand the connection between a mold exposure and brain injuries. It is an idea that is often unheeded and the more the knowledge that mold is deadly is treated so negatively, the more there will be cases like the narrator in “The Yellow Wallpaper” that will not be helped. There are some, like Dr. Mercola, who are strong believers in the deadly consequences of mold and they continue to help others realize the complications of mold and the steps of the healing process.

“The Yellow Wallpaper” did more than just tell a story of a woman suffering from depression and her struggle with her husband and his authority over her life; it unintentionally gave a perfect example of the effects of a mold exposure on a family. It is unclear whether Gilman was aware of the content when she wrote “The Yellow Wallpaper,” but considering her connection with death and darkness, it is not surprising that she would compose a story in which the main character is suffering from an exposure to toxic mold, a dangerous part of nature. In the story, all of the elements, diction, imagery, tone, dialogue, characterization, and point of view, work together to form a powerful illustration of a deadly mold exposure whose effect on each of the characters is strong. Aside from the aspect of a mold exposure in “The Yellow Wallpaper,” this story is simply a striking piece that sticks with the reader long after the final word and Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s talent for writing is clear.
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Four-Year Reflection: One Step at a Time

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October 4th marks four years since the day we abandoned our beloved home of eight years. Leaving behind the memories and our possessions, we vacated because we knew a clean environment offered our best hope for recovery.

Though the pace of our recovery has felt agonizingly slow at times, I’m surprised by how quickly these years have passed. When life gets hard, the hours seem endless. When we feel hope, time surges.

How are we? Are we better? Yes and no.

No, because we still have impairments. Each child carries a scar. Mood issues remain. We struggle with trauma and fear.

Yes, because in comparison to four years ago we are dramatically improved. I stand in awe at how far we've come.

Here is an update on each of us:

Brandon: Is in 6th grade at a local charter school. He loves math. He plays the piano and guitar. His ability to focus, while still a challenge, has vastly improved. His arm rashes continue to diminish. Give Brandon any task and he'll pour his heart into it. He's also quite the creative cook!

Colin: Is in 7th grade at the same charter school. He reads incessantly. Given his previous migraines and abdominal pain, it is fun to see him read for hours on end. He still has type 1 diabetes, but his A1C (average blood sugar) was an astounding 5.9 last week thanks to our major dietary shift two years ago. He loves making avocado ice cream!

Kaitlyn: Is in 9th grade at the local high school. After missing nearly three years of school, she has surprised herself by excelling in physics, history, math, and English. She is a singer/songwriter and loves to perform.

Reagan: Is 16 years old and excelling in math at the local community college. He completed his GED recently and is an avid filmmaker. With his "one-sided" hearing he has taught himself to play the piano, literally playing "by ear." Here is an example of his combined filmmaking/keyboarding skills.

Kristen: Is 18 and pursuing her associates degree in art/photography at the local community college. Kristen passed her GED with flying colors after missing all but one semester of high school. The depth of her journey and her extraordinary eye is evident in each of her photos.

Ryan: Is 21 and an ardent guitarist, songwriter, and food preparation specialist. He makes yogurt, fermented fruit leather, water kefir, and anything else that helps him stay the course. It's hard to decide which is bigger: Ryan's talent, or his heart.

Shannon: Is 23 and enrolled in an intensive one-year course at Massage School. Watching her climb out of a deep abyss is nothing short of miraculous. She loves speaking French, hiking, and helping others on their health journey.

Megan: Is 25 and works with Tucson's Somali Bantu Association, an organization dedicated to helping refugees. Her serious bout with malaria while in Africa seven years ago, along with her mold exposure and other health challenges, helps her relate with her refugees in powerful ways. She continues her "side job" as a singer/songwriter.

Erin: Is 27 and does all of the packaging and mailing for our family's line of all-natural products. She also does scriptwriting for the radio program Unshackled. Her greatest joy is found in investing in the lives of others, embracing any and every opportunity to offer a voice of comfort.

Chris: Continues his writing career along with his daily radio program. It's hard to see someone who has worked so diligently and responsibly over the last 30 years have so little to show for it in terms of "financial security." Nothing stops my husband, however. His latest book, Borders of the Heart, released this week and offers a hint of our journey in the desert. More than that, it shows his ever-expanding heart and talent.

Me: I started running this summer, and while I'm not doing any marathons, I am grateful for my renewed ability to exercise. To my surprise I have discovered a love for soapmaking. This has expanded into a natural line of products called Just So. Life without chemicals, at one point such a burden, is now a bright spot. I love helping others discover the benefits of living with less chemicals.

My vision to help others who encounter a toxic mold tragedy continues to grow. We have established a non-profit organization called momsAWARE with the hope of one day offering financial assistance to families in crisis.

On this fourth anniversary I find myself looking back with less pain and looking forward with a little more hope. I find myself less consumed with our health and more focused on embracing the twists and turns of this unpredictable, daunting journey.

Photo by Kristen Fabry
"A journey of a thousand miles begins with one small step." —Chinese proverb
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Healthy Snack Alternatives

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We want our families to consume healthier foods and avoid the highly processed, sugary, genetically modified foods, but how do we do it?


Preparing natural, homemade on-the-go food is surprisingly easy and fun. Here are four healthy snack options, perfect for school and traveling!

1. Energy Bar. This snack does not require a dehydrator, but does require a food processor. Ingredients include almonds and/or seeds, along with dried fruit.


I call my recipe "The Andy Bar" after my college nickname. You can easily adapt this recipe and choose your own brand name. Be creative and have fun labeling!

View the Andy Bar recipe

The next three snacks require the use of a dehydrator or makeshift dehydrator. Snacks that are dehydrated at temperatures below 116 remain raw. Raw foods maintain their enzymes and therefore are healthier foods.

Your oven makes an excellent dehydrator. Set the oven at its lowest temperature. (This will probably be somewhere around 170 degrees.) Prop open the oven door to help lower the drying temperature. Place a fan in front of the oven to keep the air flowing and avoid condensation.

2. Fruit Leather. Virtually any fruit and any fruit combination will work. This is one of the simplest snacks to make, provided you have a food processor and an oven or dehydrator. I ferment the fruit to lower the sugar content, and my kids still love it! Feel free to be creative with additions like cinnamon, ginger, and other natural ingredients.


3. Dried Fruit. Apples, bananas, and mangoes lend themselves well to this process. Simply slice and dehydrate using your oven or dehydrator. You can maintain the color of the fruit by dipping first in lemon juice. Or you can slice and sprinkle with cinnamon and dehydrate.


4. Chips. The Snack Food Association says that potato chips are America's number one snack. According to the trade group, tortilla chips rank as number two. There's no doubt we like salt and we like crunch. However, our love for convenience as well as the crunch may come with a price. When carbohydrate-rich foods like potatoes are cooked at high temperatures—as is the case with all potato chips—a chemical by-product is produced called acrylamide. The World Health Organization acknowledges that acrylamide is a carcinogen. (See their information note titled Acrylamide in Food is a Potential Health Hazard to learn more.)

The alternative? Potatoes can be safely dehydrated to preserve their nutrition and avoid acrylamides. Sweet potatoes can also be dehydrated and salted. However, for the most crunch and the least starch, try kale chips! Kale chips can be as simple as mixing oil and salt with freshly washed kale, or you can add flavor and nutrition by incorporating other greens, vegetables, or spices.


It's not easy to forsake the convenience of on-the-go snacks, but with a little creative energy you may find yourself enjoying familiar foods in a whole new way!

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Rehabilitation of the Working Memory

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Memory loss is a common issue for mold-exposed patients. Until I began the brain rehabilitation component of our journey, I had no idea the problem involved my working memory rather than my short-term memory. The working memory is centered in the prefrontal cortex. One aspect of working memory involves "holding on" to thoughts and tasks.

For example, last week I went into the laundry room for white vinegar. I noticed the load of clothes needed to be moved to the dryer. I went back to the kitchen and forgot the white vinegar. I couldn’t "hold on" to my reason for entering the laundry room.



This is why I can focus on my blog or answer an email. I’m performing one task. Multi-tasking is a different story.

Kathleen Stein has written an in-depth look at the prefrontal cortex, titled The Genius Engine: Where Memory, Reason, Passion, Violence, and Creativity Intersect in the Human Brain. Stein explains it this way:

"Multitasking is a unique prefrontal talent that falls under the general rubric of 'working memory.' Working memory comprises the mind’s intersynaptic DNA, its central operating system for thinking-in-time. Or to use another metaphor, working memory provides the musical notation system from which the higher symphonies are composed."

The prefrontal cortex also handles attention. According to Stein, there are three types of attention:

1. Focus. This involves the ability to "stay with" a thought or skill. For example, the batter focuses on the ball as it leaves the pitcher’s hand.

2. Effortful attention. Stein describes this as "dedication, the drive that compels a person to persevere, keep striving, maintain discipline, and keep his eyes on the prize. It can be inextricably bound up with motivation, will, and desire."

3. Exclusionary/inhibitory attention. According to Stein, this form of attention "repels the continuous sensory barrage to which the brain is exposed, and runs interference against distracting thoughts, and inappropriate behaviors and remarks. When brain damage to the orbitofrontal PFC causes the loss of this attention, primitive drives and emotions can gain the upper hand over reason and social conventions."

If the prefrontal cortex is compromised through a toxic exposure, one or all three of these forms of attention will be adversely impacted.

One of the tools often used for patients with ADD, MS, balance disorders, autism, and sensory integration disorder, as well as those with traumatic brain injuries, is the Interactive Metronome. This biofeedback computer program is an assessment and treatment tool designed to improve the neurological processes of motor planning, sequencing, and processing.

The following 3-minute video, filmed by my son Reagan, shows me working with the IM under the guidance of psychologist and toxic mold researcher Dr. Robert Crago.

Prior to this recording I was unable to hit more than three greens in a row.
This type of rehabilitation can be difficult during a heavy period of detoxification. For the right person, at the right time, it can be an excellent tool. For a list of certified network IM providers, see the Interactive Metronome website.
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Type 1 Perspective

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It's been almost five years since our 12-year-old son Colin was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. He wrote a blog last week that offers his perspective on living with this disease.

One day is all it takes to change your life. June 26th happened to be that day. The day I was diagnosed. The day that told me that life was going to be different from now on. It was the day that I found out that I, Colin Fabry, had it. Type 1 Diabetes. When I first heard it, I thought it was some type of deadly disease, or something that would never go away. I happened to be right about the latter. But although I looked upon this disease with disdain at first, I later found that there was a gift in this curse.

Coming up on five years with Diabetes, I see now that there was a reason for me having this disease. It was so that I could find a unique way to endure. And I have endured. At times, I just want to take a day off, or go a meal without testing or dosing. But I know that although life would be so much easier if I could, I also know that life would not be complete. We all have our own personalities, our own ways we do things, and our own lifestyles. Mine is living with Diabetes.

When I tell people that I have Diabetes, they usually look a little sad in the eye. Hey, it gets me attention, but it also makes me a little angry. "Why?" you would ask. Because I feel that no one should be sad about my life, lifestyle, and my disease. Usually people with a disease would also look sad and discouraged. Not me. That's why whenever someone hears that I have Diabetes, and gets the sad gleam in their eyes, it makes me a little angry. Because although, yes, it's sad that I have a disease, it shouldn't change everyone's opinion of me. I'd rather be known as Colin Fabry. Not the kid with Diabetes who does a prick here and a shot there. I want to be recognized as me.

Diabetes is a hardship that many people have to face. So whenever I do meet someone with my disease, I feel proud that I can relate to them. I feel as if we share a day. One day. One day that told both of us that nothing would ever be the same. One day. Because one day is all it takes to change your life forever. And that one day was June 26th.
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Our Race for the Cure

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I ran a marathon once. I was 21 years old. I remember passing the 13-mile mark, thinking, “Halfway! All I need to do is another 13 miles. I can do it!” And I did. It took all of 3 hours and 38 minutes.

I’m running a bigger race now. It’s longer and much harder. The hardest part? I don’t know if I’m halfway. I don’t know what the finish line looks like. Is there a finish line?

I hear messages that tell me, “Of course there is a finish line!” “Your bodies can heal.” “All you need to do is _____.” “Just try _______.” “You need to have more faith.” “Have you tried _______?” Rather than words of love and encouragement, my beleaguered brain hears two words: “Try harder.”

On the other side, I hear messages that tell me to stop being so obsessed, insisting that our health issues are “not that bad.” I don’t hear relief with these words; my downcast spirit hears, “You’re crazy.”

Our race for the cure has been more traumatic than our flight from our toxic home.

It has been far lonelier, more confusing, more anxiety-producing than all of the emergency room visits and surgeries combined. Why? When I was depending on the medical community, all I had to do was get my sick children to a designated office or hospital. If I followed directions, surely a doctor would provide the magic pill and rescue us. When that fantasy died, I was left alone.

My burden as a mother increased exponentially, because suddenly I had to take responsibility for our health.

That’s when the confusion escalated. We turned to alternative health. The depth of our illness disturbed those who treated us, leaving me with the same horrifying feeling that has haunted me daily for the last 4 years. “This is your fault. The body is meant to heal.” No one said this, of course, but I felt it. (One practitioner did put words to it, suggesting that my 8-year-old son had diabetes due to “narcissism.”)

Our race continued.

“I must figure this out. It’s up to me. I must find the cure. I must!” The messages continued to intensify. I couldn’t ask my husband to carry it. He was busy trying to climb out of our deep financial hole while providing for our race.

The alternative treatments helped. Our bodies responded. We saw progress. But the race seemed unending. It became clear after 18 months that our recovery would be much longer than I anticipated.

We turned to diet as our treatment. The race only intensified.

The anxiety and confusion in the world of healing diets is staggering. “You should juice. You shouldn’t juice. Meats are good. Meats are bad. Ferments are good. Ferments are bad. You can’t. You can. You should. You shouldn’t.”

What’s a mother to do?

Try harder? Give up?

Ironically, the dietary changes have helped the most. But what about the cure? My son still has type 1 diabetes. Have I failed? Have I done everything possible for him? The questions are unending.

After a reflective few months, I have come to the realization that it’s time to stop our race for the cure.

Does that mean I’m giving up? Absolutely not. I love my kitchen “laboratory.” I’m always ready to try something new. But I’m relinquishing. I’m letting go. I’m choosing to embrace our life rather than fix it.

I’m choosing to enjoy my children just the way they are. Broken or fixed, I love them. Same with my husband and our life together. In sickness and in health. For richer, for poorer. Till death do us part.

I take heart in the words of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin:

Above all, trust in the slow work of God. We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay. We should like to skip the intermediate states. We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new. And yet it is the law of all progress that it is made by passing through some stages of instability and that it may take a very long time.

Determination . . . perseverance . . . patience. I don’t need a cure to practice these. I don’t have to race, either. I just need to keep going. One unhurried step at a time.
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Kristen's Reflections

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Kristen was 14 years old when we vacated our Colorado home. A freshman in high school, she was struggling with her grades and her ability to concentrate. She was increasingly depressed. I still thought of her as one of the "healthier" ones in our family. She didn't have organ failure, didn't lose her ability to walk, and wasn't dizzy like some of our other kids. She was, however, impacted just like the rest of us. She had been on high doses of seizure medication since moving into the home. She struggled with fatigue and mood. Teachers often commented on her "messy" handwriting. She had a hard time putting words to her feelings. She became less and less verbal. She experienced joint pain in her knees and had symptoms associated with peripheral neuropathy.

Because of our move and the resulting fight to recover, Kristen let go of high school. She received a year of at-home tutoring and completed her GED in the spring of 2011. At the age of 17 she enrolled in the local community college.

Kristen has completed 12 hours in her first two semesters. While her root canal removal last summer gave her immune system a nice boost, she still struggles with fatigue and the ongoing issue of putting words to her thoughts. (See her Story of Tooth #8 in this previous post.) Still, Kristen is progressing, blazing a trail that inspires those who watch.

Last week she turned in a paper for her writing class. Her first paragraph offers this perspective on the move and her illness:

In October 2008 my family of 11 and I left our home and all of our belongings because of mold. The stachybotrys growing in my home was affecting our bodies so intensely and quickly that we had no other choice but to vacate. We moved to a drier air climate and began our road back to health. During this three-year process I've discovered that my brain has been severely impacted. Negative thoughts flow through my brain in large waves and although I try to think more positively it is sometimes impossible. Because of a seizure disorder and the drugs I was put on to "fix" it I have lost a significant amount of overall feeling. Like one of my seizures I have walked around in a fog, not feeling anything, for most of my life. Over the course of the last three years I've come to realize my problem and am striving to make it healthier. This semester and the books I've read as well as the movies I've watched have reinforced the idea that the way I see the world starts in me.
Kristen turned 18 on Monday. It was a quiet, unobtrusive celebration, just like Kristen. A reminder that courage comes in all forms—sometimes with a loud roar, sometimes with a whisper that simply says, "I won't give up."

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Window Games

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Every Saturday we spend two hours cleaning. This saves me the need to clean during the week. It also keeps the kids involved. When our 14-year-old daughter suggested we do a cleaning competition, I jumped at the chance to make our semi-annual window cleaning chore a contest. I sent out this email three days prior:

This Saturday will be our first-ever Fabry family window cleaning competition. Each of you will be assigned 1-2 windows and our unbiased judge (Dad) will choose the cleanest window. A prize will be awarded to the cleaner of the cleanest window. In a separate and secret email I will let you know which window(s) you are cleaning.

Thank you in advance for your participation.
The Cleaning Coordinator
We had five competitors. Supplied with their own rags, paper towels, folding chairs, and white vinegar spray bottles, the competitors had 45 minutes to make their windows sparkle. The judge willingly went into seclusion in his office, and the Cleaning Coordinator announced, "Let the Games begin!"


We gave our competitors an extra five minutes and then watched as our esteemed judge took careful notes, examining each casing and pane.


To the dismay of four of the participants and the elation of one (dealing with the dismayed participants is exactly why the Cleaning Coordinator chose Dad as the judge), the kitchen window was awarded Cleanest Window. When asked for the secret to his success, Colin described his technique of scrubbing and spraying small parts of the window rather than spraying the whole window and then wiping. "Keep scrubbing and spraying," he advises all future window cleaners.

Not bad advice from the winner of the Window Games.
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Haunted House Hunt

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In the spring of 2000 we moved from suburban Chicago to the "wild west" of Colorado. We sold our tiny 1800-square-foot home before we had time to find another. Chris went house hunting in Colorado Springs with our two oldest daughters, who were 15 and 12. We had eight children, so the goal was to upgrade our living space. The house hunters found two homes that qualified. Chris called me with great excitement about the first one.

"It's perfect! It backs up to a horse farm. It's close to the schools. Lots of room. It's beautiful." He emailed pictures. I loved what I saw.

He placed a bid on the home and headed east. What he didn't know was that another family had placed a bid the same day. An identical bid. The homeowners chose the other family. We were devastated.

Chris and the girls returned to Illinois dejected. Chris decided to fly me out to look at the "other" house, a spacious 5500-square-foot home with five levels. Chris had some concerns and felt I needed to see it before bidding on it.

I remember getting off the interstate 50 minutes after arriving in Denver. We were meeting our realtor to do a walk-through. For some reason I felt apprehensive. We drove up to the house, in a new development with lots of homes under construction. I noticed boys riding their bikes on the mounds of dirt.

We walked through the front door and I felt "it" immediately. Disarray and clutter. The house felt "dirty." I felt uncomfortable. Assuming I was just reacting to the overbearing, gaudy decorating style, I continued the tour. We walked into each of the six bedrooms, the game room, the in-law suite. With each room I became increasingly uneasy. Instead of feeling just messy and dark, the house felt deeply oppressive.

As we drove away I looked at Chris and said, "I don't like it. I don't ever want to go back. I know I can't live there."

We spent two more days looking for the right home and didn't find it. We returned to Illinois unsure of our next step.

Our realtor emailed us, suggesting we reconsider the 5500-square-foot "oppressive" home. He sent pictures of each room. Chris encouraged me to imagine the home without the gaudy decorating and the clutter.

"The house is a shell. Imagine it without their furniture. Look at the floor plan. Think of the potential."

I hesitated. Then I saw the wisdom of it. It made a lot of sense. I agreed, the house did have potential. We made a deposit and moved eight weeks later.

We arrived the day before the closing with all of our things in a huge truck driven by a friend. At the walk-through, the home showed no signs of a move. It was as cluttered as I remembered. I left the walk-through and sobbed. Something felt "off."

We learned that the home was in bankruptcy. The family hadn't paid their mortgage. The builder's brother was in jail for murder. The builder wasn't regarded well in the community. Something was seriously wrong.

A friend agreed to keep us for a night to allow us to escape the confines of our tiny hotel room. We were living out of suitcases, far away from Illinois and the comfort of friends. We were unsure if we could take possession and if the court would allow the sale.

We agreed to wait until the family was out of the home and requested a clause requiring them to vacate completely by midnight the next day. When Chris and our realtor arrived at midnight, the garage was full of debris and unwanted items. We paid for a dumpster to haul it away. The house was filthy and the carpets stained, but we made the most of it and tried to make it our own.

Within months our health began to decline. A seizure disorder, an obstructed bowel, strep, mood disorders, and more symptoms kept us either at the emergency room or the doctor's office. In our prior 15 years of parenting we'd had one visit to the ER.

It was a rough first year. The following seven years were no better, with clear signs that something was indeed "off."

In retrospect I see the value of a mother's instinct. She is designed to create a nest for her family, and I knew this was not the one. It would take eight years for my instinct to conquer. We walked away from the home on October 4, 2008, finally escaping the toxic mold that lurked within its walls and was relentlessly poisoning our bodies.

Do I wish I had listened to my gut? Absolutely. Do I regret our decision? Definitely. Does this keep me from moving forward? No. I am grateful for the knowledge that has come from this experience.

In light of these lessons I have written an article Guidelines for Buying a Home. My hope is that our story will help another family avoid this scenario and help another mom listen to her "nesting" instinct.
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