In The Beginning

We are all born Naked. Every one of us.
And we start out life eating Raw Foods!
At least I was. My mom breast fed.

Theoretically, that means my GI tract was inoculated with good bacteria.
But what if my mom was sick and didn't know?
What if she had a gene - passed down to me, that meant we would struggle with food?

I fear this is the case.
I don't know.

All I know is that my entire life has revolved around pain, managing pain, avoiding pain, alleviating pain.

It started when I was about 8 or 9 years old. I was taking piano lessons. When I would try to practice, my hands would start to ache, my right shoulder would get sore and I would get shooting pains (Zingers) up the right side of my neck into my head. They scared me - those zingers, they were nothing like I have ever heard of. My hands, arms and shoulder would lock-up and stiffen. I could not splay my fingers to achieve a good piano spread. I quit Piano lessons around age 14 because I just couldn't handle the pain any more, and took up voice lessons for a while.

Around age 14, I had extremely painful knees. When I got to the Doctor, he took blood and sent me home with a Dx (diagnosis) of 'Growing Pains'. My blood came back elevated WBC but he said I probably was getting a cold.

At age 17, I was a Arizona State University and had a crisis - my appendix burst. This is a long sad story that I will maybe tell elsewhere, but suffice it to say that the Doctors who operated on me determined that my appendix had been exploded for around 2 years prior determined by the scar tissue they found in my abdomen and the lesions and adhesions in the small bowel. I was guided by a friend to ease my recovery with what was called a High Colonic, or now known as Colonic Irrigation, and I did this weekly for quite some time after surgery. I had been eating vegetarian for about 6 months upon arrival at ASU but after a few years, I had to return to Minnesota where I knew I could find work and transportation. When I got back to MN, I went off my healthy ways. In those days, Alternative treatments and things like colonic irrigation only existed in the SouthWest and Crazy California.

When I got home, I went camping in the Boundary Waters Canoes Area, and got bitten by a tick, red-bullseye rash and all. It was 1978. Lyme Disease was a news story that happened to someone else, and besides, they said it was no big deal on TV. A few days after returning from camping, I woke up one morning, paralyzed. I could not move. I had to pee. I rolled out of my bed onto the floor and 45 agonizing minutes later, I hauled myself up onto the stool, crying in pain to sit there for two hours after completing evacuation, working up the energy and willpower to crawl back to bed. A week later at the Doctor, I was left with right shoulder pain and I got a shot a serious Steroids and Prednisone  pills to take.

I went on to more schooling, eventually started a business and by age 27, I was a full-blown alcoholic, miserable and alone. I knew my body was in trouble, and I knew I was drinking to cover pain, but no one believed me. They just said I was weak and drinking to escape. I knew better. I avoided relationships and I complied with treatment, and I eventually succeeded - but I KNEW it was a lie. I got sober at 30 and have been sober, since.