Thursday, February 22, 2007
Healing Nutrition
Oh, you can't tell me that nutrition isn't a part of overall healing and maintaining health and well-being. In my quest to find superfoods which may help boost immunity or promote healthy cell growth or keep donated blood and platelets happier, I found a great site, Nutrition Data ~ a huge amount of information on any food you may be researching. Anyone besides me like steamed okra? Just me then? Ok, I admit it ~ I love okra. Enjoy!
Sunday, February 18, 2007
"Joy is internal and eternal." ~ R. Olivier
Over the years, I've known several people who've ended up committing suicide, in one way or another. The first one was named Jeff. The moment I met him and shook his hand, I saw the pain in his eyes, and knew he'd kill himself and that there was nothing I could do to make him feel better. We worked together one summer repairing chipped, beveled glass entry doors of overblown mansions and the cracked stained glass windows of tiny, old country churches ~ guess which ones I enjoyed most? The ones painted in deep, rich tones of blood red and golden light with contentedness and peachy skin tones, telling stories to the simple peasants like me, with paintings, examples, resurrecting the sunlight into heavenly streamers and ribbons crawling across wooden floors.
The second person I knew was named Spencer. I knew when I met him, he was too nice to survive in this world, I thought. "I can't watch this," I thought, not getting involved in his life but wanting to, wanting to help him. Scared of him as I saw myself. One night, a girl of not much worth broke his heart, left him right after his mother died from cancer. So, with a bravery and weakness I can and can't imagine, taught that it's a sin to end your own life, he put his driver's license in one back pocket, his birth certificate in the other, and threw himself in front of a train.
Many people I have known since then haven't died, but they are living zombies. Not long ago, so was I ~ zombied ~ I knew it, it almost killed me, and it scared me. That slow, droning feeling that life "just sucks" and has no point: relatives and few really close friends along the way drank themselves and everyone around them into living hell. They're still alive, but really, they're not there anymore. It surprises me, but at the same time, it doesn't. I wish I could help everyone. But I can't. But.
I'm not sure what my point is except that I know how hard it is to remain positive or to actually be positive and change your outlook on life. Honestly as always, I've been so close to never feeling one more positive thought ever again that I wanted to punch people in the mouth for even suggesting it. At this point, you need to stop and think, "What am I thankful for?" Think of one thing. If you have only one thing, then you have something. If you have zero, then search and create one thing to be thankful for. Because if you have one, odds are, you will soon be able to count up three, then seven. Then, announce them out loud. Silently acknowledging your counted blessings is good, but fighting back and throwing them out to the universe is the key. You will be heard, and don't let anyone take that away from you.
Life is hard. Being sick is hard. Being well is hard. Being alive is hard. Being dead is hard on everyone else. Patience and peace is hardest of all. When you feel terrible enough, at the end of your rope clinging onto the unravelling knot, remember that "happiness is external, and joy comes from within." These words came to me today through a talk by Ross Olivier. "Never give up, never say die," is what my father said after every surgery and every treatment. Tell yourself that every day.
The second person I knew was named Spencer. I knew when I met him, he was too nice to survive in this world, I thought. "I can't watch this," I thought, not getting involved in his life but wanting to, wanting to help him. Scared of him as I saw myself. One night, a girl of not much worth broke his heart, left him right after his mother died from cancer. So, with a bravery and weakness I can and can't imagine, taught that it's a sin to end your own life, he put his driver's license in one back pocket, his birth certificate in the other, and threw himself in front of a train.
Many people I have known since then haven't died, but they are living zombies. Not long ago, so was I ~ zombied ~ I knew it, it almost killed me, and it scared me. That slow, droning feeling that life "just sucks" and has no point: relatives and few really close friends along the way drank themselves and everyone around them into living hell. They're still alive, but really, they're not there anymore. It surprises me, but at the same time, it doesn't. I wish I could help everyone. But I can't. But.
I'm not sure what my point is except that I know how hard it is to remain positive or to actually be positive and change your outlook on life. Honestly as always, I've been so close to never feeling one more positive thought ever again that I wanted to punch people in the mouth for even suggesting it. At this point, you need to stop and think, "What am I thankful for?" Think of one thing. If you have only one thing, then you have something. If you have zero, then search and create one thing to be thankful for. Because if you have one, odds are, you will soon be able to count up three, then seven. Then, announce them out loud. Silently acknowledging your counted blessings is good, but fighting back and throwing them out to the universe is the key. You will be heard, and don't let anyone take that away from you.
Life is hard. Being sick is hard. Being well is hard. Being alive is hard. Being dead is hard on everyone else. Patience and peace is hardest of all. When you feel terrible enough, at the end of your rope clinging onto the unravelling knot, remember that "happiness is external, and joy comes from within." These words came to me today through a talk by Ross Olivier. "Never give up, never say die," is what my father said after every surgery and every treatment. Tell yourself that every day.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Hair can get you thinkin'...
I have only donated blood once in my life. Since I'm O+, now I feel I should've donated more along the way. O+ donors are needed more frequently than any other donor because O+ is the most common Blood type (39% of the population) and is needed more often by people requiring blood in hospitals.
Now that I have this blood disorder, even though it's curable, I asked my mother and nurses if I can ever donate blood again ~ to replenish that stash that I have taken from, given by divine, selfless people walking the face of this earth. But my mother and the others just give me The Sheepish Look and say, "Maybe. But probably not." I will ask my doctor in two weeks. But in the end, to be safe, I probably won't donate. But I will give something back, somehow. A friend of mine who just happens to be gay told me, ruefully, jokingly, "I'd have donated, but they don't take blood from my kind." I said, "What kind...blonde?"
To that friend reading, I love you. You have donated more than blood to me already. You have donated your heart and so many laughs, it'll take me forever to pay you back.
I've been thinking what I can do to give something back. For most of my life, I've had longish, curly, dark-brown hair. I usually just keep it up in a ponytail or a "bunnytail" is what I call it ~ a ponytail doubled, to almost a bun. When I was in the hospital, the ATGam drug I took intravenously was considered chemotherapy. Wide-eyed, "Will my hair fall out?" jumped out of my mouth to the chemo nurse, hanging the bag on my drip-pole (which I'd nicknamed Mark Watowski, of Polish descent), screwing the dripline into my arm. "No," she assured me. But then, it made me think, "Why was that the first thing I could think of?" I felt shallow. But then again, I started thinking.
When you lose your hair with cancer treatments, especially for women, you lose *something normal*, and it lables you immediately as "sick" or "victim", I've imagined. Sometimes when you're sick, you don't really want anyone to know you're sick, or you don't want anyone to think you have something contagious or wrong with you. Cancer isn't contagious. But it's overwhelming and way too personal. You want to get away from your body, but you're constantly reminded that you are sick.
Of the time I spent in the hospital, seven days in all I think, when the pain and the burn and the true discomfort of the drugs hit me hardest, my mom would say, "I tell everyone, 'You have to feel bad to feel good again.' This will make you well."
She should know: For years, she worked in the same hematology clinic that I go to now for my aplastic anemia. For years, she has taken care of sick and dying people. Her father and mother died of cancer. She ushered them out. My father died of leukemia, and watching him fly away as she sung to him and stroked his hair and held his hand all the way through, I can say now with a strength I never thought I'd have, I can say that was a gift of seeing Heaven on Earth, to be in that kind of strength and love. And now, she has me to heal and deal with ~ how lucky we all are to have her and her knowledge of hematology and oncology ~ and undying strength.
...and her biting sarcasm which keeps you two steps ahead, on your toes, but that is another story altogether.
But when I thought about "feeling bad to feel good", and how bad this treatment felt, I knew it was nothing compared to cancer treatments, like hardcore treatments I hope to never experience, which knocks every hair off of a body. So as they say around these parts, "It got to me to thinkin'..."
Yesterday, the chief meteorologist at WLBT named Barbie Bassett reported live from the Valentine's Day Blood Drive. Along the way, they mentioned she was growing her hair out to donate to Locks of Love. That is an amazing contribution for her or anyone to make, and an amazing program I keep forgetting about. So I've been joking at itp wtf? about how cyclosporine makes hair grow, and boy, it does. Don't you think the least I could do to give something back to someone is grow out at least 10 inches of hair and donate it? Now I'm not talkin' about donating my Herve Villachez pushbroom moustache ~ I'm talking ponytail. Right now, I do have about 10 inches, but really, it needs a good trimming to even up the ends and thicken out some layering. To me, my hair looks a little moth-eaten around the ends. Well. Neglect and aplastic anemia will do that to you. I've been *kinda busy* the last few months. But it's nothing like cancer. And you know, a longish, curly, dark-brown bunnytail may be just beautiful to, and on, someone else.
I'll research how long that might take me, and I'll keep you posted on that. Now, if only I could donate the handlebar moustache, we'd be in business.
Now that I have this blood disorder, even though it's curable, I asked my mother and nurses if I can ever donate blood again ~ to replenish that stash that I have taken from, given by divine, selfless people walking the face of this earth. But my mother and the others just give me The Sheepish Look and say, "Maybe. But probably not." I will ask my doctor in two weeks. But in the end, to be safe, I probably won't donate. But I will give something back, somehow. A friend of mine who just happens to be gay told me, ruefully, jokingly, "I'd have donated, but they don't take blood from my kind." I said, "What kind...blonde?"
To that friend reading, I love you. You have donated more than blood to me already. You have donated your heart and so many laughs, it'll take me forever to pay you back.
I've been thinking what I can do to give something back. For most of my life, I've had longish, curly, dark-brown hair. I usually just keep it up in a ponytail or a "bunnytail" is what I call it ~ a ponytail doubled, to almost a bun. When I was in the hospital, the ATGam drug I took intravenously was considered chemotherapy. Wide-eyed, "Will my hair fall out?" jumped out of my mouth to the chemo nurse, hanging the bag on my drip-pole (which I'd nicknamed Mark Watowski, of Polish descent), screwing the dripline into my arm. "No," she assured me. But then, it made me think, "Why was that the first thing I could think of?" I felt shallow. But then again, I started thinking.
When you lose your hair with cancer treatments, especially for women, you lose *something normal*, and it lables you immediately as "sick" or "victim", I've imagined. Sometimes when you're sick, you don't really want anyone to know you're sick, or you don't want anyone to think you have something contagious or wrong with you. Cancer isn't contagious. But it's overwhelming and way too personal. You want to get away from your body, but you're constantly reminded that you are sick.
Of the time I spent in the hospital, seven days in all I think, when the pain and the burn and the true discomfort of the drugs hit me hardest, my mom would say, "I tell everyone, 'You have to feel bad to feel good again.' This will make you well."
She should know: For years, she worked in the same hematology clinic that I go to now for my aplastic anemia. For years, she has taken care of sick and dying people. Her father and mother died of cancer. She ushered them out. My father died of leukemia, and watching him fly away as she sung to him and stroked his hair and held his hand all the way through, I can say now with a strength I never thought I'd have, I can say that was a gift of seeing Heaven on Earth, to be in that kind of strength and love. And now, she has me to heal and deal with ~ how lucky we all are to have her and her knowledge of hematology and oncology ~ and undying strength.
...and her biting sarcasm which keeps you two steps ahead, on your toes, but that is another story altogether.
But when I thought about "feeling bad to feel good", and how bad this treatment felt, I knew it was nothing compared to cancer treatments, like hardcore treatments I hope to never experience, which knocks every hair off of a body. So as they say around these parts, "It got to me to thinkin'..."
Yesterday, the chief meteorologist at WLBT named Barbie Bassett reported live from the Valentine's Day Blood Drive. Along the way, they mentioned she was growing her hair out to donate to Locks of Love. That is an amazing contribution for her or anyone to make, and an amazing program I keep forgetting about. So I've been joking at itp wtf? about how cyclosporine makes hair grow, and boy, it does. Don't you think the least I could do to give something back to someone is grow out at least 10 inches of hair and donate it? Now I'm not talkin' about donating my Herve Villachez pushbroom moustache ~ I'm talking ponytail. Right now, I do have about 10 inches, but really, it needs a good trimming to even up the ends and thicken out some layering. To me, my hair looks a little moth-eaten around the ends. Well. Neglect and aplastic anemia will do that to you. I've been *kinda busy* the last few months. But it's nothing like cancer. And you know, a longish, curly, dark-brown bunnytail may be just beautiful to, and on, someone else.
I'll research how long that might take me, and I'll keep you posted on that. Now, if only I could donate the handlebar moustache, we'd be in business.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Valentine's Day Blood Drive in Jackson, MS
By 12:15pm today, the Mississippi Blood Services has had over 220 donors. One blood donation can save up to 3 lives with what I've started calling The Trinity ~ red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets. People are standing in line to give their blood freely. I swear. That is way past "love", it's amazing. If I could donate, I would ~ but this is the only way I can donate by spreading the word.
The blood drive will be going on all day today until 7:00pm on Lakeland Drive. You'll get a Marshall Ramsey t-shirt if you donate. The blood drive will be going on all day today until 7:00pm on Lakeland Drive. Hug a blood donor today. And thanks to WLBT for the live report.
The blood drive will be going on all day today until 7:00pm on Lakeland Drive. You'll get a Marshall Ramsey t-shirt if you donate. The blood drive will be going on all day today until 7:00pm on Lakeland Drive. Hug a blood donor today. And thanks to WLBT for the live report.
Warning: My New Valentine
I posted this at itp wtf?, too, but thought it might also be helpful here if you are researching any information about PICC Lines. I was terrified of getting one, mainly because with ITP and aplastic anemia and all the negative articles and postings I was reading already, it was just another thing that scared the beejoobies out of me: having a plastic tube inserted into my vein and over to my heart. But trust me, if this has been suggested to you by a professional as needed for your medical treatment, take it. It won't take you long to get used to it with proper care.
Don't look if you are gonna be grossed out, but I wanted to show you the new love of my life ~ my PICC Line, the direct line to my life with aplastic anemia and my heart. Literally.
"Ok, she had me up until this picture, and now I'm totally grossed out. Why did she post this picture? What drug is she on? And why is her new favorite word 'literally'...?"
No no no, you don't understand. Give my new man a chance. I love him. He has a face that only a mother could love. But this boinic-looking invention means that instead of getting one thousand needle-sticks by now, I just give blood samples and receive tranfusions and even medications like steroids through this line. The end.
What's my point: If you are scared of getting a PICC Line, please don't be. Odds are, the professionals have suggested it to you for a good reason such as you have crappy, tiny veins like me, and this is the best thing for you to do.
One day, as I was getting a benadryl-dozy platelet tranfusion (I'm a relatively happy, cheap date on benadryl), the PICC Line nurse told me, "You know, we have a patient who refused a PICC Line because he's afraid of the idea. We don't know what to do. He's going to have a hard time. He's thinking about not even taking the treatment." That broke my heart. I immediately asked for the universe to intervene and make this man come to his senses. Modern medical technology is a gift, and for a reason. I wish that American pharmaceutical companies spent more on researching new drugs than giving out free keychains and squeezy balls and logo-emblazoned trinkets and free lunches since there is no such thing as a free lunch, or a free kitten, if you need to know the truth...
Not that I'm saying you need to eat a kitten for lunch...am I ranting? Must be the hormones.
What I'm saying is: If anyone googles to this page looking for information on a PICC Line, scared to death of the whole idea like I was, trust me ~ it only hurts for a little while, you'll get used to it, and it's the best thing you can ever do in this case.
Speaking of necessary pain that only hurts for so long, keep your insurance premiums current and paid. This amazing stuff isn't cheap (thanks to free lunches, passing the savings on to you and the hospital). The cost of the drug ATGam I took in the IV for 4 days alone was $28,000. My point is that the minute you think you don't need insurance, you might as well gamble the deed to your house on the craps table. Or stick your kitty in a slot machine. Me-OW.
Not to scare you, nothing to be frightened of, just get the care you need. And plenty of love. Aww.
~ Happy Valentine's Day, go forth and eat candy! ~
"Gross! She posted another picture of, what, her getting platelets...ewwww. Hey. Dang...steroids went straight to her, uhhh, chest...area. Well then...maybe this PICC Line thing isn't such a bad idea after all."
Don't look if you are gonna be grossed out, but I wanted to show you the new love of my life ~ my PICC Line, the direct line to my life with aplastic anemia and my heart. Literally.
"Ok, she had me up until this picture, and now I'm totally grossed out. Why did she post this picture? What drug is she on? And why is her new favorite word 'literally'...?"
No no no, you don't understand. Give my new man a chance. I love him. He has a face that only a mother could love. But this boinic-looking invention means that instead of getting one thousand needle-sticks by now, I just give blood samples and receive tranfusions and even medications like steroids through this line. The end.
What's my point: If you are scared of getting a PICC Line, please don't be. Odds are, the professionals have suggested it to you for a good reason such as you have crappy, tiny veins like me, and this is the best thing for you to do.
One day, as I was getting a benadryl-dozy platelet tranfusion (I'm a relatively happy, cheap date on benadryl), the PICC Line nurse told me, "You know, we have a patient who refused a PICC Line because he's afraid of the idea. We don't know what to do. He's going to have a hard time. He's thinking about not even taking the treatment." That broke my heart. I immediately asked for the universe to intervene and make this man come to his senses. Modern medical technology is a gift, and for a reason. I wish that American pharmaceutical companies spent more on researching new drugs than giving out free keychains and squeezy balls and logo-emblazoned trinkets and free lunches since there is no such thing as a free lunch, or a free kitten, if you need to know the truth...
Not that I'm saying you need to eat a kitten for lunch...am I ranting? Must be the hormones.
What I'm saying is: If anyone googles to this page looking for information on a PICC Line, scared to death of the whole idea like I was, trust me ~ it only hurts for a little while, you'll get used to it, and it's the best thing you can ever do in this case.
Speaking of necessary pain that only hurts for so long, keep your insurance premiums current and paid. This amazing stuff isn't cheap (thanks to free lunches, passing the savings on to you and the hospital). The cost of the drug ATGam I took in the IV for 4 days alone was $28,000. My point is that the minute you think you don't need insurance, you might as well gamble the deed to your house on the craps table. Or stick your kitty in a slot machine. Me-OW.
Not to scare you, nothing to be frightened of, just get the care you need. And plenty of love. Aww.
~ Happy Valentine's Day, go forth and eat candy! ~
"Gross! She posted another picture of, what, her getting platelets...ewwww. Hey. Dang...steroids went straight to her, uhhh, chest...area. Well then...maybe this PICC Line thing isn't such a bad idea after all."
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Today's project: patience and repair.
The following is a duplicate entry I posted over at The Yarden. When you are sick, your world can become very small yet largely overwhelming at the same time. But, when you begin to heal, it's a long process that can drive you crazy between stages of increasing health and wellness. To keep yourself from cabin-fever stir-crazy, my advice: Expand your world from the inside out and make something with your hands and with your mind.
Today's project: patience and repair.
Well, the moment I say we're going to get in the yarden to plant roses, the weather went very cold on us for a few days ~ down in the 30s with rainshowers, no ice here though. Isn't that always the way? But that is good in the end. It makes you look for other things to tidy up while the sun shines somewhere behind the clouds, waiting. Soon enough, it will be really hot and humid here. Too hot and humid if you ask me. I like the occasional snows of Memphis, but the flowers and vegetation here in Mississippi can get Amazon-lush quickly, and it's big and bold and beautiful when it comes on.
But for now, here I am: In the sewing room turned beadshop, with the gas heater burning low behind me. I'm repairing my dad's work of art that I pilfered from his workshop awnings. He made this windchime years ago out of some huge, spent caliber shells (obviously military) and a lead fishing line weight for the *dinger.* The fishing line has rotted, and the coffee can lid he used as the windcatcher crumbled in my hands as I carefully lifted it down. I found this coffee can lid he had labeled, carefully, as a thorough research chemist would tend to do. And I love that it's his handwriting, so it's perfect.
The structure it all hangs on was carefully twisted from heavy gauge wire that is now mostly rust and weathered bits of corrosion. But to me, it's beautiful. I'm keeping it as long as it holds up because he made it with his own hands, and it reminds me of him and his spirit, still lingering in the winds around me. I look up at the blue sky and see the color of his eyes. It makes me cry every time I think of him, but I smile at the same time ~ honored to know such a good man who touched so many people's lives in such a giving, laughing way. I thank God for knowing him, and know I will see his eyes and hold his hand one day.
It's what I not only believe, but I know because I've seen it. I promise it exists, if that helps you to know that. And so, we need patience. Patience is so hard. To me, that is the word for the day for about 64 days in a row now. But while you are waiting for whatever it is you are wanting or needing, don't forget to spread around some seeds of goodness. That's one of the reasons we're all here to begin with, I think. And with patience, everything grows. Platelets, roses, and all things good.
~ To have a wonderful day, make it that way. ~
Today's project: patience and repair.
Well, the moment I say we're going to get in the yarden to plant roses, the weather went very cold on us for a few days ~ down in the 30s with rainshowers, no ice here though. Isn't that always the way? But that is good in the end. It makes you look for other things to tidy up while the sun shines somewhere behind the clouds, waiting. Soon enough, it will be really hot and humid here. Too hot and humid if you ask me. I like the occasional snows of Memphis, but the flowers and vegetation here in Mississippi can get Amazon-lush quickly, and it's big and bold and beautiful when it comes on.
But for now, here I am: In the sewing room turned beadshop, with the gas heater burning low behind me. I'm repairing my dad's work of art that I pilfered from his workshop awnings. He made this windchime years ago out of some huge, spent caliber shells (obviously military) and a lead fishing line weight for the *dinger.* The fishing line has rotted, and the coffee can lid he used as the windcatcher crumbled in my hands as I carefully lifted it down. I found this coffee can lid he had labeled, carefully, as a thorough research chemist would tend to do. And I love that it's his handwriting, so it's perfect.
The structure it all hangs on was carefully twisted from heavy gauge wire that is now mostly rust and weathered bits of corrosion. But to me, it's beautiful. I'm keeping it as long as it holds up because he made it with his own hands, and it reminds me of him and his spirit, still lingering in the winds around me. I look up at the blue sky and see the color of his eyes. It makes me cry every time I think of him, but I smile at the same time ~ honored to know such a good man who touched so many people's lives in such a giving, laughing way. I thank God for knowing him, and know I will see his eyes and hold his hand one day.
It's what I not only believe, but I know because I've seen it. I promise it exists, if that helps you to know that. And so, we need patience. Patience is so hard. To me, that is the word for the day for about 64 days in a row now. But while you are waiting for whatever it is you are wanting or needing, don't forget to spread around some seeds of goodness. That's one of the reasons we're all here to begin with, I think. And with patience, everything grows. Platelets, roses, and all things good.
~ To have a wonderful day, make it that way. ~
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Dear Santa, I Want Foods That May Help Build Platelets
After I found out I had aplastic anemia, I had to know more. I wanted to know, first, what it was. According to the internet, that was scary enough. My case was brought on by ITP (immune thrombocytopenic purpura) which personally, I can barely pronounce, and I'd never heard of it either. The way ITP is presented on the internet, it looks like "you got a stigmatic virus and, oh boy, you better hold on." Except for the "holding on" part, that's not exactly the case. What I wanted to know was "how to fix it."
So if you have googled here to find out some positive nutritional information to help *build* platelets, at least with what I know and am experiencing, you googled to the right place. Me, I took ATGam intraveniously for 4 days and am now maintaining my bone marrow growth with cyclosporine for at least 3 months, and taking blood and platelet transfusions as needed until I grow my own platelets again. And now, I'm researching proper nutrition to hold and build platelets.
"What can I do to grow my own platelets again?" is all I could think. Then I'd get The Pitiful Look like I had just asked someone the truth about Santa Claus.
I went to message boards, looking for foods that help build platelets. I walked away with one, black comment posted on my brain that tied my stomach in a knot:
"Nothing you can eat will help you build platelets."
How grim is that, even if it does have a certain amount of truth to it. And then, someone swore Strawberry PopTarts helped them, and that just ended up in a firey thread of accusations and frustrations. So I never went back to that board. Instead, I researched everywhere else, and started with folic acid, especially studies for pregnant women building up nutritional levels for healthier babies.
To me, proper nutrition in growing babies could also help in growing baby platelets. Hey, why not? Hell. I'd eat moondust if it'd build platelets. But it seems folic acid was something easier and readily accessible to try.
Finding a list of foods containing folic acid, I began eating more oranges and the leafiest green salads I could get -- namely my mom's. She'll put at least 7 to 10 different chopped ingredients in them on top of a spring mix with spinach and toss with oils to coat lightly. Check it out, they are gorgeous.
This one has romaine lettuce, grape tomatoes, cucumber, avocado, red seedless grapes, mandarin oranges, chopped pecans, balsamic-vinaigrette dressing (this was "No-Carb Gourmet" brand) and sesame oil, for flair. Yummy "platelet-making-maybe-why-not" flair.
Pair it up with vegetable soup or a small bit of lean protein which is always good for the blood overall, especially red meat for your iron intake and building hematocrit levels.
One note: The only thing I can say about adding oranges to your diet is to make sure they and grapefruit are okay to eat with the prescription medications you are taking. Grapefruit has been found to interfere negatively with certain medications.
Also, I just found this link on Carepages.com with Healing Recipes and tips ~ looks good. Through Carepages.com, we keep up with a patient who's very special to us at St. Jude. I'll have to tell you that divinely, unbelievable story someday soon. It's long but good and will have a happy ending.
And another thing: It takes energy to make a salad. And when your body and soul is worn down, drive-thru. If you are too tired to make a salad, I can recommend the salads at Arby's, and even Wendy's or McDonald's, these days. In that order, Arby's has the absolute freshest drive-thru salads, like the Arby's Market Fresh Martha's Vineyard salad featuring grilled chicken, apples, cheese, dried cranberries, and toasted almonds with a raspberry vinaigrette.
And, at Arby's, you can also get lean protein roast beef or turkey sandwich on whole wheat bread. Or, try a wrap. When you are sick, remember that you can heal faster with healthy eating, medications taken as directed, and especially rest. So eat well, and remember to treat yourself with a comforting food or just a beautiful cookie or two now and then ~ because that will make you happy, and you need "happy" to get well.
And The truth about Santa Claus is that he does exist, he really does, as long as you believe in the spirit of giving and receiving happiness and joy. And, he likes beautiful cookies, too.
So if you have googled here to find out some positive nutritional information to help *build* platelets, at least with what I know and am experiencing, you googled to the right place. Me, I took ATGam intraveniously for 4 days and am now maintaining my bone marrow growth with cyclosporine for at least 3 months, and taking blood and platelet transfusions as needed until I grow my own platelets again. And now, I'm researching proper nutrition to hold and build platelets.
"What can I do to grow my own platelets again?" is all I could think. Then I'd get The Pitiful Look like I had just asked someone the truth about Santa Claus.
I went to message boards, looking for foods that help build platelets. I walked away with one, black comment posted on my brain that tied my stomach in a knot:
"Nothing you can eat will help you build platelets."
How grim is that, even if it does have a certain amount of truth to it. And then, someone swore Strawberry PopTarts helped them, and that just ended up in a firey thread of accusations and frustrations. So I never went back to that board. Instead, I researched everywhere else, and started with folic acid, especially studies for pregnant women building up nutritional levels for healthier babies.
To me, proper nutrition in growing babies could also help in growing baby platelets. Hey, why not? Hell. I'd eat moondust if it'd build platelets. But it seems folic acid was something easier and readily accessible to try.
Finding a list of foods containing folic acid, I began eating more oranges and the leafiest green salads I could get -- namely my mom's. She'll put at least 7 to 10 different chopped ingredients in them on top of a spring mix with spinach and toss with oils to coat lightly. Check it out, they are gorgeous.
This one has romaine lettuce, grape tomatoes, cucumber, avocado, red seedless grapes, mandarin oranges, chopped pecans, balsamic-vinaigrette dressing (this was "No-Carb Gourmet" brand) and sesame oil, for flair. Yummy "platelet-making-maybe-why-not" flair.
Pair it up with vegetable soup or a small bit of lean protein which is always good for the blood overall, especially red meat for your iron intake and building hematocrit levels.
One note: The only thing I can say about adding oranges to your diet is to make sure they and grapefruit are okay to eat with the prescription medications you are taking. Grapefruit has been found to interfere negatively with certain medications.
Also, I just found this link on Carepages.com with Healing Recipes and tips ~ looks good. Through Carepages.com, we keep up with a patient who's very special to us at St. Jude. I'll have to tell you that divinely, unbelievable story someday soon. It's long but good and will have a happy ending.
And another thing: It takes energy to make a salad. And when your body and soul is worn down, drive-thru. If you are too tired to make a salad, I can recommend the salads at Arby's, and even Wendy's or McDonald's, these days. In that order, Arby's has the absolute freshest drive-thru salads, like the Arby's Market Fresh Martha's Vineyard salad featuring grilled chicken, apples, cheese, dried cranberries, and toasted almonds with a raspberry vinaigrette.
And, at Arby's, you can also get lean protein roast beef or turkey sandwich on whole wheat bread. Or, try a wrap. When you are sick, remember that you can heal faster with healthy eating, medications taken as directed, and especially rest. So eat well, and remember to treat yourself with a comforting food or just a beautiful cookie or two now and then ~ because that will make you happy, and you need "happy" to get well.
And The truth about Santa Claus is that he does exist, he really does, as long as you believe in the spirit of giving and receiving happiness and joy. And, he likes beautiful cookies, too.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
