I may only be 26 years old, but I already can see glimpses of the transforming perspective that comes with age. I've heard many older adults talk about it... the patterns, pathways, and little evolutions that become visible as time goes on.
What I've been tuning into these past few years is intuition. Some may call it "women's intuition." Others just "going with your gut." But whatever you want to call it, there are gentle nudges and tiny beams of revelation that peek out from inside my conscious and make themselves known. I have no idea where it comes from - similar to the creative process that happens when I am designing a website or print layout - something just surfaces and makes sense.
Intuition might also be called a self-conscience. A quiet whisper or a little poke that you're doing the right thing, going the right way... or the opposite. Having the gift of hindsight, I can recognize the moments when I've ignored my intuition, only to find later on that my first instincts were correct.
But it takes time and clarity of thought to listen and learn from intuition. It's like trying to dial in to a fuzzy radio station; sometimes you can't just turn the knob, you have to mess with the antenna, change your position, or move the stereo itself. Early on, intuition can send mixed signals, and making a decision is like stabbing into the dark.
The perfect example of this in my experience happened in late 2004. John and I spent six months after his college graduation living and working at the International Film Workshops in Rockport, Maine. We had a fabulous summer and because our student loans were on deferment, we were able to save a large portion of our earnings. We'd decided when we first took the jobs - which were temporary six-month positions - that afterwards we would take our savings and move to New York to pursue our careers in film.
Our six months was nearing its end in October, and we began looking for jobs and apartments in Brooklyn, where many of our college friends had moved. We spent almost a month digging through Craigslist, sending friends to scout out apartments, until eventually we found something that would work for us and began the application process. After two weeks of emails, faxes, acquiring co-signers, and filling out paperwork, we were denied the apartment! Stunned and angry, now with only a few weeks before our jobs and lease in Maine would end, we didn't know what to do. We felt burned by the city and took it as a sign: we weren't meant to go.
If I was in tune with my intuition then, I might have tried to extend my position and lease in Maine. I might have kept looking for an apartment in the city. I'm not really sure. But what I wouldn't have done is what we did do: within a week of being denied the NYC apartment we decided instead to move to Austin, Texas.
Blinded by our frustration with NYC, we decided to take a completely different and drastic route. We took our savings, arranged a sublet near the University of Texas, and a week later, we packed up our pickup truck and started driving. It wasn't until we arrived that we realized the miscalculations of our hasty decision: despite having a nickname of the "Third Coast" for film production (after LA and NYC), the job market in Austin was scarce. We were told by neighbors almost immediately upon arrival that Austin had the highest ratio in the country of PHD holders working as waitstaff. We also learned that we had mistakenly found an apartment in the most expensive area of the city. Not a smart move.
Five weeks later we were broke, lonely, with zero job prospects and wounded egos. Despite how much we enjoyed Austin, we re-packed the truck and headed back home.
In retrospect, my intuition told me from the beginning that Austin was a gamble. I chose to ignore the feeling of uncertainty in my gut, never admitting its existence until we fully realized our mistake. But while I know that today I'd make a different decision, I don't regret those five weeks for a second. A whirlwind of self-evaluation and soul-searching, our brief stint in Texas was a priceless learning experience. Not to mention the lingering memory of unmatched Tex-Mex!
But being young(er) and choosing to ignore my gut, I was riskier and perhaps, some might say, a little daft. I hadn't quite come to embrace the power of that little twinge of guidance that, at the time, mimicked a concerned parent.
The older and (hopefully) wiser I get, the more I appreciate the voice of insight that comes when needed. Tuning in and considering all perspectives seems to provide a sounder base for decision-making as well as a clarity of consequence. I hope that one day I can look back and connect the dots - wholly confident in my presence and contented by the paths I've chosen, knowing fully that somehow I knew it all along.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Actions speak louder
I was psyched today when I noticed that someone turned the lights out at Google: http://www.google.com/intl/en/earthhour/.
Have you seen this? The traditional all-white Google homepage is now all black. But for one day only - today - to garner participation in Earth Hour. Tonight, from 8pm til 9pm in your respective timezone, people will be turning their lights out - literally. In an effort to raise awareness of climate change and encourage human beings throughout the planet to reduce energy, cities across the world are participating by powering down tonight for 1 hour.
Earth Day is soon approaching, too, and I can't help but be excited and optimistic about these moments of reflection and realization that as the planet's only species capable of building up cities and mining resources, we can also care for the planet that gives us life.
Yet lately, I've been in situations where I've overheard other people scoff at the notion of Global Warming. I've listened to others proclaim it as a hoax. I've argued with my own father about how it's a scam to get us to purchase expensive hybrid cars and funky lightbulbs.
But really? I'm confused. I've been quiet about this subject for long enough and the time has come for me to say what I've been thinking all along: Who cares!?
Yes, really, I mean it - who gives a shit whether Global Warming is a hoax, or a scam, or a lie. I'll refrain here, of course, from asking the burning question on my mind - WHAT do the bad-guy-liars and scamming scientists have to gain from this "hoax"? Because clearly, getting people to think about the planet and take care of it by providing facts about glacial melting and changing climates across the world must indeed have some sinister motivation behind it.
Instead, I ask what does it matter if Global Warming isn't true? What does it matter if the scientists' findings are wrong? Perhaps this is indeed just a natural cycle that occurs every so many years and perhaps Earth is indeed more powerful than us and can heal itself. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
But to get to my point: even if it isn't true, what harm can it do to care for the planet? What is so horrible about reducing our carbon emissions? Being less wasteful and more mindful of our impact? Choosing to support companies and products that preserve the Earth and care for the following generations?
Or could it be that we're too lazy and too comfortable? It's a lot easier to proclaim that something is "bullshit" than it is to actually make a change in your life - to actually make some sacrifices.
I don't know if Global Warming is real or not. I've heard shouting on both sides of the argument that is equally loud and equally valid. But regardless of who is right, protecting the environment and treating our planet with the utmost respect can only improve our life here for ourselves and every generation to come!
So rather than choosing a side, rather than standing on a soapbox and shouting about which study says this and which study says that, why don't we all just shut the hell up and start taking some action? We all know what we can do to reduce our own impact on the planet, and there is mountains of info out there to help point you in the right direction.
If we all take some responsibility to be nicer to each other and this world we all have to share, then I truly believe we can prevent any major catastrophes that may or may not happen. And either way, we'll create a beautiful, cleaner Earth to call home.
Honestly... how can that be a bad thing?
Have you seen this? The traditional all-white Google homepage is now all black. But for one day only - today - to garner participation in Earth Hour. Tonight, from 8pm til 9pm in your respective timezone, people will be turning their lights out - literally. In an effort to raise awareness of climate change and encourage human beings throughout the planet to reduce energy, cities across the world are participating by powering down tonight for 1 hour.
Earth Day is soon approaching, too, and I can't help but be excited and optimistic about these moments of reflection and realization that as the planet's only species capable of building up cities and mining resources, we can also care for the planet that gives us life.
Yet lately, I've been in situations where I've overheard other people scoff at the notion of Global Warming. I've listened to others proclaim it as a hoax. I've argued with my own father about how it's a scam to get us to purchase expensive hybrid cars and funky lightbulbs.
But really? I'm confused. I've been quiet about this subject for long enough and the time has come for me to say what I've been thinking all along: Who cares!?
Yes, really, I mean it - who gives a shit whether Global Warming is a hoax, or a scam, or a lie. I'll refrain here, of course, from asking the burning question on my mind - WHAT do the bad-guy-liars and scamming scientists have to gain from this "hoax"? Because clearly, getting people to think about the planet and take care of it by providing facts about glacial melting and changing climates across the world must indeed have some sinister motivation behind it.
Instead, I ask what does it matter if Global Warming isn't true? What does it matter if the scientists' findings are wrong? Perhaps this is indeed just a natural cycle that occurs every so many years and perhaps Earth is indeed more powerful than us and can heal itself. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
But to get to my point: even if it isn't true, what harm can it do to care for the planet? What is so horrible about reducing our carbon emissions? Being less wasteful and more mindful of our impact? Choosing to support companies and products that preserve the Earth and care for the following generations?
Or could it be that we're too lazy and too comfortable? It's a lot easier to proclaim that something is "bullshit" than it is to actually make a change in your life - to actually make some sacrifices.
I don't know if Global Warming is real or not. I've heard shouting on both sides of the argument that is equally loud and equally valid. But regardless of who is right, protecting the environment and treating our planet with the utmost respect can only improve our life here for ourselves and every generation to come!
So rather than choosing a side, rather than standing on a soapbox and shouting about which study says this and which study says that, why don't we all just shut the hell up and start taking some action? We all know what we can do to reduce our own impact on the planet, and there is mountains of info out there to help point you in the right direction.
If we all take some responsibility to be nicer to each other and this world we all have to share, then I truly believe we can prevent any major catastrophes that may or may not happen. And either way, we'll create a beautiful, cleaner Earth to call home.
Honestly... how can that be a bad thing?
Monday, March 24, 2008
Out like a lamb
This month has been tough. Bitter cold days, limited sunshine, and stress mounting in all areas of life. John and I have been caught in the thick of it... stuck indoors, drinking too much, whining too much, frustrated with being broke and having to once again defer one of our mounting student loans. Well, you know what they say about March, though, right? In like a lion...
The tables finally feel like they're turning for us. All of the hard work is finally paying off.
Today John had a much-anticipated meeting in New York with an online distribution company. For a few months now, John's been discussing the idea of a second feature that would be marketed completely online, with a pre-production blog allowing visitors to follow along with the making of the film. Shortly after lunchtime John called me at work, his voice lighter and more optimistic than I've heard in quite some time.
"We're making a movie!!!" he proclaimed.
Exhale... spring is coming after all! I've been on air all afternoon, excited about what this means for my hard-working husband who pours every ounce of himself into his projects and has never really been rewarded with all that much interest, let alone money. But this time will be different. Not only is he supported with dollars, this company is also going to completely market the film, distribute the film, and generate buzz and interest online. Woohoo!
I am so proud of John Yost. He hasn't stopped working since the day we met... I remember it clearly: he was a Freshman in film school, determined to make the biggest and best production the Freshman class had ever seen! His older friends helped him acquire the equipment he wasn't supposed to have, and at screenings his "epic" showed more effort and technical skill than any Freshman project before it. He hasn't stopped since. Producing a film - or two - every year thereafter, my relationship with John has been synonymous with my relationship with John's projects.
In 2002, John spent a week in Norman, Oklahoma attempting to chase tornadoes with a team of scientists and a video camera. The following year he shot 8 films, including his own called "Johnny", completing his BFA with an emphasis in Cinematography. We road-tripped in 2003, bringing a Bolex, 16mm film, and a car mount, shooting vast landscapes out west. After graduating, John used the gear available to us at the Maine Workshops to produce "Fog," and later borrowed another Bolex to begin documenting friends for "Motion Portrait Film." Scattered in between, a variety of photo experiments and series', including the ongoing "Stumps," the Shining-inspired "Crooked Lake House," and Crewdson-esce "House."
It wasn't until late 2006 that John decided he wouldn't be able to rest until he made a feature film, and weeks later - literally - began production of EVERY GOOD THING to RUST. It was unclear, even after the film's premiere, whether or not it would garner any serious attention or lead to anything else. And John was ready to put down the camera for awhile, having satisfied his feature-bug.
And now this.
March has been especially tough on John, who's been living this new film every day - thinking about it, talking about it, writing it, editing it... all with no idea if it would ever come to be. I've always believed that someday other people would notice how talented and dedicated John Yost is to his work. He is the embodiment of a true artist - committed solely to his craft, driven by his passion for his work, and not distracted by the hordes of wannabes in the film and art world. John doesn't want to be the idea of an artist; John just is one.
Congratulations, honey!
Video documenting our honeymoon in Greece; ATV-ing around the island of Santorini.
Keep checking www.thebraveandthekind.com for more information on the upcoming movie. It will officially be announced in late April, 2008.
The tables finally feel like they're turning for us. All of the hard work is finally paying off.
Today John had a much-anticipated meeting in New York with an online distribution company. For a few months now, John's been discussing the idea of a second feature that would be marketed completely online, with a pre-production blog allowing visitors to follow along with the making of the film. Shortly after lunchtime John called me at work, his voice lighter and more optimistic than I've heard in quite some time.
"We're making a movie!!!" he proclaimed.
Exhale... spring is coming after all! I've been on air all afternoon, excited about what this means for my hard-working husband who pours every ounce of himself into his projects and has never really been rewarded with all that much interest, let alone money. But this time will be different. Not only is he supported with dollars, this company is also going to completely market the film, distribute the film, and generate buzz and interest online. Woohoo!
I am so proud of John Yost. He hasn't stopped working since the day we met... I remember it clearly: he was a Freshman in film school, determined to make the biggest and best production the Freshman class had ever seen! His older friends helped him acquire the equipment he wasn't supposed to have, and at screenings his "epic" showed more effort and technical skill than any Freshman project before it. He hasn't stopped since. Producing a film - or two - every year thereafter, my relationship with John has been synonymous with my relationship with John's projects.
In 2002, John spent a week in Norman, Oklahoma attempting to chase tornadoes with a team of scientists and a video camera. The following year he shot 8 films, including his own called "Johnny", completing his BFA with an emphasis in Cinematography. We road-tripped in 2003, bringing a Bolex, 16mm film, and a car mount, shooting vast landscapes out west. After graduating, John used the gear available to us at the Maine Workshops to produce "Fog," and later borrowed another Bolex to begin documenting friends for "Motion Portrait Film." Scattered in between, a variety of photo experiments and series', including the ongoing "Stumps," the Shining-inspired "Crooked Lake House," and Crewdson-esce "House."
It wasn't until late 2006 that John decided he wouldn't be able to rest until he made a feature film, and weeks later - literally - began production of EVERY GOOD THING to RUST. It was unclear, even after the film's premiere, whether or not it would garner any serious attention or lead to anything else. And John was ready to put down the camera for awhile, having satisfied his feature-bug.
And now this.
March has been especially tough on John, who's been living this new film every day - thinking about it, talking about it, writing it, editing it... all with no idea if it would ever come to be. I've always believed that someday other people would notice how talented and dedicated John Yost is to his work. He is the embodiment of a true artist - committed solely to his craft, driven by his passion for his work, and not distracted by the hordes of wannabes in the film and art world. John doesn't want to be the idea of an artist; John just is one.
Congratulations, honey!
Video documenting our honeymoon in Greece; ATV-ing around the island of Santorini.
Keep checking www.thebraveandthekind.com for more information on the upcoming movie. It will officially be announced in late April, 2008.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Second Opinions
I'm looking for advice here. Though, I can't promise I'm going to take it.
All of this started last spring. I was sitting in the waiting room at the dentist reading some lousy women's magazine - I think it was Elle - when I stumbled on an article about skin cancer. It was loaded with product plugs and the overall tone was a fearful one: anyone can get skin cancer - anyone!... so be afraid, go to your dermatologist, buy the fifteen-dollar sunscreen. I was completely aware at the article's intent, but having a friend - younger than I - who recently was diagnosed and had to have skin grafts on her face - well, I was, on some subconscious level, affected by it.
I should also note that I have a host of other minor skin ailments - mild breakouts on my face, eczema, and annoyingly sensitive skin. So at my annual physical I decided to ask my doctor to take a look at my skin. Was a skin cancer screening necessary just to be safe... or was I being silly? I've gotten some severe sunburns throughout my life, have fair skin and a nice shower of freckles. He took one look at my speckled shoulders and said, "It wouldn't hurt to see a dermatologist."
Months later my appointment with an apparently-popular dermatologist finally arrived. I was excited to finally get some answers and peace of mind. However, after making my way past the assortment of product posters on the walls and sitting in a smock for 15 minutes, I was given a quick 3-minute scan and assured I was fine. She barely made eye-contact with me.
"But what about my face... the blackheads..." I attempted to stall her robotic routine.
She peered at my forehead, "Oh... I think a little Retin-A would clear that right up. I'll give you a prescription and some samples."
I couldn't think of a response, and she was so quick - so uninterested in what I had to say - that I never did think of one until I left that evening, tossing the prescription slips and samples in the trash: What can I do naturally?... What can I eat? Can I take certain vitamins? Is a prescription really necessary for a few little whiteheads?
The questions kept streaming in, and months and months after the appointment I became more and more irritated with the insincerity of that brief encounter with a dermatologist. My skin continued to fluctuate between acne and eczema breakouts, and I became convinced that I needed a second opinion.
In January I had my second appointment with a dermatologist, and while they were not quite as obvious, all the signs of a formulaic business were there. The posters for botox and other magically beautifying products plastered the walls, the check-in-check-out windows reminiscent of a Dunkin Donuts queue, the waiting, waiting, waiting alone in a cold room for 20 minutes in a paper gown.
This time I was prepared: I didn't want a prescription - I wanted advice. I had particular spots that I wanted checked out. I was ready. The doctor came in and was much nicer than the first, but brought with her a PA, armed with laptop and digital camera. I showed her my complexion, slightly mottled by whiteheads.
"Oh..." she said, squinting to see them. "I would recommend some Retin-A..." and off she went on the schpeal about applying the prescription every night before bed...
"But I would prefer not to have a prescription if necessary," I interrupted, "Isn't there anything natural that I can do? Certain things I can eat? Vitamins I should be taking? Cleansers I could use?"
She looked mildly annoyed and ignored most of my questions, choosing to answer the only one that involved me purchasing something. "We have a great line of skin care products that might help..." In seconds there was a brochure in my hand with a photo of a beautiful, blemish-free woman on the front and some scientific, French name. "We can get you some free samples."
She proceeded to check out my freckles and the spots, growing concerned at a particular tiny red spot on my chest. Leaning in close, she summoned her assistant with the camera. "Hmmm. That one looks strange. Could be basal cell carcinoma..." She went on to explain that basal cell was a very-treatable, non-life-threatening, very common form of skin cancer. Caught early, it was absolutely nothing to be concerned about. But they needed to slice a tiny piece of it and have it biopsied to be sure.
Hmph. Skin cancer? Biopsy? I grew worried just at the words. She was prepared for my face of concern, and reiterated that it was nothing to lose sleep over.
A month later I returned, butterflies in my stomach, for the biopsy. I am terrified of needles and all things medical, and I told the nurse as much as she numbed the area and removed part of my tiny spot. "You'll get a letter in 7-10 days with the results," she explained. "If you don't hear from us in two weeks, please call."
Um, ok. So a letter. I left the office feeling slightly nauseous, afraid to peek under the band-aid until later that night. When I finally did, I was surprised to see she had removed a chunk of skin larger than the spot itself - but only half of the spot itself. Why didn't she just remove the whole thing? I thought.
So I waited. And waited. Two weeks went by without my realizing, then last week - finally - I got a letter. "The results of your skin biopsy showed an atypical mole. There is no cause for alarm, however, this lesion will require further excision... we have scheduled your excision for April 3rd...."
What? An atypical mole? Further excision? Another procedure? They must be kidding... this "lesion" was no bigger than a chiclet! First I was scared. Then I was irritated. Then I was angry.
I researched atypical moles online and discovered that 1 in 10 people have one but they are considered "precancerous." Some doctors think that there is a slight chance that an atypical mole can turn into melanoma - a potentially deadly form of skin cancer. But statistics I found online say that it's highly unlikely - and melanoma can form from anything. Furthermore, atypical moles are only of concern when they change. If they grow bigger, change pigment, or morph in any way, then there is real cause for concern.
I called the office and told the nurse I thought the procedure was excessive, was overkill. Why didn't they just remove the thing to begin with? Why couldn't I just keep an eye on it? She couldn't give me a very good reason why they hadn't removed it already, but explained that this was a better-safe-than-sorry procedure. Yes, it was unlikely that my atypical mole would turn into anything... but, she had seen atypical moles turn into melanoma before.
I didn't cancel my appointment. Yet. But I've been researching it and talking about it with different people. My sister, who is an occupational therapist and knows her stuff when it comes to medicine, is equally torn: is it really necessary to have such a tiny, easy-to-monitor and most-likely-insignificant spot removed... just because it might turn into something? Or are they just trying to get more insurance money out of me for an unnecessary procedure?
I'm not sure. But next week I'm going to cancel my appointment and attempt to find a homeopathic doctor for an alternative opinion.
My overall feeling about the whole thing? In a health care system driven by money, we have to be incredibly cautious and aware of what "doctors" proclaim. If the signs are there - say, purposefully placed cabinets full of expensive, well-designed skin creams with brochures and posters in the examination room - we have to pay attention. The mere fact that this doctor would not offer me any advice or answers that didn't involve another appointment, a prescription, or a purchase at her spa next door (no kidding), has me thinking. The inhumanness of a letter to inform me of my results and already-scheduled appointment (it was clearly a form letter, with certain parts filled in from a computer database). The dividing of all procedures into as many appointments as possible.
All of it put up red flags for me, and while in the past I might easily be swayed by fear-tactics, I'm trying to use my head here. I'm not going to start lopping off every abnormal spot on my body because it might, maybe, someday turn into something. Instead, I want to know what I can do now - on my own - to keep my body whole, strong, and healing itself. A preventative approach, a holistic approach, a human approach.
If anyone has any thoughts, similar experiences, or recommendations for a third opinion, it is much appreciated.
All of this started last spring. I was sitting in the waiting room at the dentist reading some lousy women's magazine - I think it was Elle - when I stumbled on an article about skin cancer. It was loaded with product plugs and the overall tone was a fearful one: anyone can get skin cancer - anyone!... so be afraid, go to your dermatologist, buy the fifteen-dollar sunscreen. I was completely aware at the article's intent, but having a friend - younger than I - who recently was diagnosed and had to have skin grafts on her face - well, I was, on some subconscious level, affected by it.
I should also note that I have a host of other minor skin ailments - mild breakouts on my face, eczema, and annoyingly sensitive skin. So at my annual physical I decided to ask my doctor to take a look at my skin. Was a skin cancer screening necessary just to be safe... or was I being silly? I've gotten some severe sunburns throughout my life, have fair skin and a nice shower of freckles. He took one look at my speckled shoulders and said, "It wouldn't hurt to see a dermatologist."
Months later my appointment with an apparently-popular dermatologist finally arrived. I was excited to finally get some answers and peace of mind. However, after making my way past the assortment of product posters on the walls and sitting in a smock for 15 minutes, I was given a quick 3-minute scan and assured I was fine. She barely made eye-contact with me.
"But what about my face... the blackheads..." I attempted to stall her robotic routine.
She peered at my forehead, "Oh... I think a little Retin-A would clear that right up. I'll give you a prescription and some samples."
I couldn't think of a response, and she was so quick - so uninterested in what I had to say - that I never did think of one until I left that evening, tossing the prescription slips and samples in the trash: What can I do naturally?... What can I eat? Can I take certain vitamins? Is a prescription really necessary for a few little whiteheads?
The questions kept streaming in, and months and months after the appointment I became more and more irritated with the insincerity of that brief encounter with a dermatologist. My skin continued to fluctuate between acne and eczema breakouts, and I became convinced that I needed a second opinion.
In January I had my second appointment with a dermatologist, and while they were not quite as obvious, all the signs of a formulaic business were there. The posters for botox and other magically beautifying products plastered the walls, the check-in-check-out windows reminiscent of a Dunkin Donuts queue, the waiting, waiting, waiting alone in a cold room for 20 minutes in a paper gown.
This time I was prepared: I didn't want a prescription - I wanted advice. I had particular spots that I wanted checked out. I was ready. The doctor came in and was much nicer than the first, but brought with her a PA, armed with laptop and digital camera. I showed her my complexion, slightly mottled by whiteheads.
"Oh..." she said, squinting to see them. "I would recommend some Retin-A..." and off she went on the schpeal about applying the prescription every night before bed...
"But I would prefer not to have a prescription if necessary," I interrupted, "Isn't there anything natural that I can do? Certain things I can eat? Vitamins I should be taking? Cleansers I could use?"
She looked mildly annoyed and ignored most of my questions, choosing to answer the only one that involved me purchasing something. "We have a great line of skin care products that might help..." In seconds there was a brochure in my hand with a photo of a beautiful, blemish-free woman on the front and some scientific, French name. "We can get you some free samples."
She proceeded to check out my freckles and the spots, growing concerned at a particular tiny red spot on my chest. Leaning in close, she summoned her assistant with the camera. "Hmmm. That one looks strange. Could be basal cell carcinoma..." She went on to explain that basal cell was a very-treatable, non-life-threatening, very common form of skin cancer. Caught early, it was absolutely nothing to be concerned about. But they needed to slice a tiny piece of it and have it biopsied to be sure.
Hmph. Skin cancer? Biopsy? I grew worried just at the words. She was prepared for my face of concern, and reiterated that it was nothing to lose sleep over.
A month later I returned, butterflies in my stomach, for the biopsy. I am terrified of needles and all things medical, and I told the nurse as much as she numbed the area and removed part of my tiny spot. "You'll get a letter in 7-10 days with the results," she explained. "If you don't hear from us in two weeks, please call."
Um, ok. So a letter. I left the office feeling slightly nauseous, afraid to peek under the band-aid until later that night. When I finally did, I was surprised to see she had removed a chunk of skin larger than the spot itself - but only half of the spot itself. Why didn't she just remove the whole thing? I thought.
So I waited. And waited. Two weeks went by without my realizing, then last week - finally - I got a letter. "The results of your skin biopsy showed an atypical mole. There is no cause for alarm, however, this lesion will require further excision... we have scheduled your excision for April 3rd...."
What? An atypical mole? Further excision? Another procedure? They must be kidding... this "lesion" was no bigger than a chiclet! First I was scared. Then I was irritated. Then I was angry.
I researched atypical moles online and discovered that 1 in 10 people have one but they are considered "precancerous." Some doctors think that there is a slight chance that an atypical mole can turn into melanoma - a potentially deadly form of skin cancer. But statistics I found online say that it's highly unlikely - and melanoma can form from anything. Furthermore, atypical moles are only of concern when they change. If they grow bigger, change pigment, or morph in any way, then there is real cause for concern.
I called the office and told the nurse I thought the procedure was excessive, was overkill. Why didn't they just remove the thing to begin with? Why couldn't I just keep an eye on it? She couldn't give me a very good reason why they hadn't removed it already, but explained that this was a better-safe-than-sorry procedure. Yes, it was unlikely that my atypical mole would turn into anything... but, she had seen atypical moles turn into melanoma before.
I didn't cancel my appointment. Yet. But I've been researching it and talking about it with different people. My sister, who is an occupational therapist and knows her stuff when it comes to medicine, is equally torn: is it really necessary to have such a tiny, easy-to-monitor and most-likely-insignificant spot removed... just because it might turn into something? Or are they just trying to get more insurance money out of me for an unnecessary procedure?
I'm not sure. But next week I'm going to cancel my appointment and attempt to find a homeopathic doctor for an alternative opinion.
My overall feeling about the whole thing? In a health care system driven by money, we have to be incredibly cautious and aware of what "doctors" proclaim. If the signs are there - say, purposefully placed cabinets full of expensive, well-designed skin creams with brochures and posters in the examination room - we have to pay attention. The mere fact that this doctor would not offer me any advice or answers that didn't involve another appointment, a prescription, or a purchase at her spa next door (no kidding), has me thinking. The inhumanness of a letter to inform me of my results and already-scheduled appointment (it was clearly a form letter, with certain parts filled in from a computer database). The dividing of all procedures into as many appointments as possible.
All of it put up red flags for me, and while in the past I might easily be swayed by fear-tactics, I'm trying to use my head here. I'm not going to start lopping off every abnormal spot on my body because it might, maybe, someday turn into something. Instead, I want to know what I can do now - on my own - to keep my body whole, strong, and healing itself. A preventative approach, a holistic approach, a human approach.
If anyone has any thoughts, similar experiences, or recommendations for a third opinion, it is much appreciated.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
SAD, Snow, and Suffocation
It's happening again. No matter how well I may be able to predict my own behavior, knowing it is going to happen doesn't make it any easier to avoid.
March is approaching and the snow is ever falling. It's been constant these past few days, and the sun is hidden behind bleak skies of gray. Last week, I must admit, the sun was shining unusually often, but being horribly ill with the flu, I missed every day of it, stuck inside like a leper. Not that I would have gone out and "played" or anything, but it would have done me some good to catch some rays of vitamin D just meandering to and from my car and work.
I'm feeling all of the symptoms of Seasonal Affective Disorder. Fatigue. Lethargy. Laziness. And just an all-around shitty mood. Lately, I don't want to get out of bed in the morning and need several cups of coffee to keep me going. I feel bored and tired most of the day, and things I usually enjoy doing - like cooking dinner or yoga - become annoying tasks preventing me from doing the only thing I currently enjoy: sitting on my butt, eating chocolate and drinking wine. Real healthy, huh?
I hate to clog my blog with whining, but the reality is that my slacking off in blog-writing is directly related to my affliction: I just don't feel like there's anything worth writing about.
I daydream daily about escape... living somewhere far away where winter is brief and sunshine reigns.
The outdoors has never been an obsession for me. I'm not really into sports, I hate bugs, and I tend to avoid activities that involve getting dirty or super sweaty. But I'm not one for total immersion of anything... my life requires continual balance. For me, it's all about atmosphere. I'm a visual person, and my entire mood can be set by a beautiful sunset, a brisk walk down a sun-dappled path, or a scenic drive. Even sunshine streaming in windows gives my whole being a glow. In the summertime, I still work on websites and watch movies and practice yoga... all indoor activities. But it's completely different when the windows are open, the sun shines in til 9pm, and you can walk around the house barefoot and half-naked without freezing your ass off!
It's frustrating that I've been enduring this yearly meltdown my entire life, and even more frustrating that change feels impossible. We are stuck. Just as stuck as I am in the house right now, the snow still piling high out the window, we are financially strapped, and moving anywhere is out of the question. Our student loans are packed around us, suffocating every sliver of freedom, just like the cold white stuff outside.
For now, venting about it here is lifting my spirits ever-so-slightly. And tonight, I'll self-medicate by finishing the bottle of shiraz on the counter and gnawing on some more of my Valentine's chocolate. While venting about it is fine and dandy, doing something about it is even better. And I'm a girl of action. I vow to myself that someday I'll actually go an entire year without pissing and moaning about how miserable the weather is... because I'll be somewhere where I won't have anything to piss and moan about, and this - this venting, this feeling I have in my gut right now - will live only in memories.
March is approaching and the snow is ever falling. It's been constant these past few days, and the sun is hidden behind bleak skies of gray. Last week, I must admit, the sun was shining unusually often, but being horribly ill with the flu, I missed every day of it, stuck inside like a leper. Not that I would have gone out and "played" or anything, but it would have done me some good to catch some rays of vitamin D just meandering to and from my car and work.
I'm feeling all of the symptoms of Seasonal Affective Disorder. Fatigue. Lethargy. Laziness. And just an all-around shitty mood. Lately, I don't want to get out of bed in the morning and need several cups of coffee to keep me going. I feel bored and tired most of the day, and things I usually enjoy doing - like cooking dinner or yoga - become annoying tasks preventing me from doing the only thing I currently enjoy: sitting on my butt, eating chocolate and drinking wine. Real healthy, huh?
I hate to clog my blog with whining, but the reality is that my slacking off in blog-writing is directly related to my affliction: I just don't feel like there's anything worth writing about.
I daydream daily about escape... living somewhere far away where winter is brief and sunshine reigns.
The outdoors has never been an obsession for me. I'm not really into sports, I hate bugs, and I tend to avoid activities that involve getting dirty or super sweaty. But I'm not one for total immersion of anything... my life requires continual balance. For me, it's all about atmosphere. I'm a visual person, and my entire mood can be set by a beautiful sunset, a brisk walk down a sun-dappled path, or a scenic drive. Even sunshine streaming in windows gives my whole being a glow. In the summertime, I still work on websites and watch movies and practice yoga... all indoor activities. But it's completely different when the windows are open, the sun shines in til 9pm, and you can walk around the house barefoot and half-naked without freezing your ass off!
It's frustrating that I've been enduring this yearly meltdown my entire life, and even more frustrating that change feels impossible. We are stuck. Just as stuck as I am in the house right now, the snow still piling high out the window, we are financially strapped, and moving anywhere is out of the question. Our student loans are packed around us, suffocating every sliver of freedom, just like the cold white stuff outside.
For now, venting about it here is lifting my spirits ever-so-slightly. And tonight, I'll self-medicate by finishing the bottle of shiraz on the counter and gnawing on some more of my Valentine's chocolate. While venting about it is fine and dandy, doing something about it is even better. And I'm a girl of action. I vow to myself that someday I'll actually go an entire year without pissing and moaning about how miserable the weather is... because I'll be somewhere where I won't have anything to piss and moan about, and this - this venting, this feeling I have in my gut right now - will live only in memories.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Cheers to Your Health
The last time I wrote I was in complete denial. I knew that my body was fighting something, but to what extent I was strangely oblivious... I spent that Saturday night staying up late and drinking a couple beers, only to spend a long eight hours tossing and turning with cold sweats, waking up to a full-blown flu.
So often in our Western society we take things for granted: food, shelter, freedom. And, as the saying goes, we never really truly grasp what it is we have until its gone. It's not easy to keep things in perspective - to realize as your eating breakfast that somewhere in this world your peanut butter toast is a delicacy, or to remember as your huffing and puffing about your distant parking spot that you should be so lucky to even have a car. Such, of course, is the case when you get sick. It is the ultimate reminder - the ultimate kick in the ass - that HEY! you've got a body that's mostly healthy! Keep it that way!
Laying flat on your back for five days with head-to-toe body aches and a fever sure renews your appreciation for the body's normal state. And it also reminds you - in an almost terrifying way - just how inextricably linked you and your body are. Without it, quite literally you are nothing.
Thinking about all this, and having been downright giddy the past few days thanks to my rejuvenated health, has stirred up thoughts about food and exercise and how horribly unhealthy so many of the habits in our culture really are....
In a culture where virtually every social activity and holiday is connected with food, we certainly have a lot of garbage in our grocery stores. Aisle after aisle of over-processed crap, void of any nutritional value.
My diet changed dramatically in early 2006 when I worked as a prep cook at Perelandra Natural Foods in Brooklyn Heights. Responsible for baking the daily vegan muffins and chopping the veggies for the homemade soups and salads, I was introduced to qunioa, soba noodles, agave nectar, seitan, and the unbelievable capabilities of tofu, which produced everything from delicious stir-frys to vegan cheesecakes.
My dear friend and the head chef there once said something to me that has been burned into my brain: "I don't eat really well because I'm scared of dying someday. I eat really well because I don't want to spend the last 20 or 30 years of my life suffering from poor health."
I think of those words whenever I catch myself overdoing it... and after spending a week horizontal, they ring truer than ever.
Personally, I have grown addicted to how good food makes me feel. Eating fresh fruits and vegetables and dishes made with whole, hearty grains and pure, additive-free ingredients makes my body run like a well-oiled machine, which - in turn - positively effects every other aspect of my life. And after spending much of my life with an unhealthy, out-of-whack relationship with sugar (read: serious binge-eating) I have finally struck a balance with my sweet tooth.
After gaining confidence in myself and reading the book French Women Don't Get Fat (a fascinating read!) I've decided that not only can I have sweets, but I can have some every day as long as 1. I have just a little taste and 2. it is real, pure, and high-quality. And I'll tell you what, it works so well and I have been so spoiled with my household stock of delicious, organic dark chocolate, that I barely flinch when someone offers me a Snickers or an M&Ms... why waste the calories?
Anyway, every body - no matter how healthily tuned - gets sick. But how often and to what degree can be drastically altered by what we put in out tummies. I'm ecstatic to be well again... and have promised myself that I'll continue to eat as well as I know how. I certainly don't want to spend my last years on this planet feeling the way I did last week!
So often in our Western society we take things for granted: food, shelter, freedom. And, as the saying goes, we never really truly grasp what it is we have until its gone. It's not easy to keep things in perspective - to realize as your eating breakfast that somewhere in this world your peanut butter toast is a delicacy, or to remember as your huffing and puffing about your distant parking spot that you should be so lucky to even have a car. Such, of course, is the case when you get sick. It is the ultimate reminder - the ultimate kick in the ass - that HEY! you've got a body that's mostly healthy! Keep it that way!
Laying flat on your back for five days with head-to-toe body aches and a fever sure renews your appreciation for the body's normal state. And it also reminds you - in an almost terrifying way - just how inextricably linked you and your body are. Without it, quite literally you are nothing.
Thinking about all this, and having been downright giddy the past few days thanks to my rejuvenated health, has stirred up thoughts about food and exercise and how horribly unhealthy so many of the habits in our culture really are....
In a culture where virtually every social activity and holiday is connected with food, we certainly have a lot of garbage in our grocery stores. Aisle after aisle of over-processed crap, void of any nutritional value.
My diet changed dramatically in early 2006 when I worked as a prep cook at Perelandra Natural Foods in Brooklyn Heights. Responsible for baking the daily vegan muffins and chopping the veggies for the homemade soups and salads, I was introduced to qunioa, soba noodles, agave nectar, seitan, and the unbelievable capabilities of tofu, which produced everything from delicious stir-frys to vegan cheesecakes.
My dear friend and the head chef there once said something to me that has been burned into my brain: "I don't eat really well because I'm scared of dying someday. I eat really well because I don't want to spend the last 20 or 30 years of my life suffering from poor health."
I think of those words whenever I catch myself overdoing it... and after spending a week horizontal, they ring truer than ever.
Personally, I have grown addicted to how good food makes me feel. Eating fresh fruits and vegetables and dishes made with whole, hearty grains and pure, additive-free ingredients makes my body run like a well-oiled machine, which - in turn - positively effects every other aspect of my life. And after spending much of my life with an unhealthy, out-of-whack relationship with sugar (read: serious binge-eating) I have finally struck a balance with my sweet tooth.
After gaining confidence in myself and reading the book French Women Don't Get Fat (a fascinating read!) I've decided that not only can I have sweets, but I can have some every day as long as 1. I have just a little taste and 2. it is real, pure, and high-quality. And I'll tell you what, it works so well and I have been so spoiled with my household stock of delicious, organic dark chocolate, that I barely flinch when someone offers me a Snickers or an M&Ms... why waste the calories?
Anyway, every body - no matter how healthily tuned - gets sick. But how often and to what degree can be drastically altered by what we put in out tummies. I'm ecstatic to be well again... and have promised myself that I'll continue to eat as well as I know how. I certainly don't want to spend my last years on this planet feeling the way I did last week!
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Rest Essential
It's been three weeks since I've written, but what's incredible about that is that during those three weeks not one day went by that I didn't sit in front of the computer for most of it.
Having multiple Web sites of my own that I maintain, and working as a Web and graphic designer, I literally am on the computer from 9am until 5pm, 5 days a week. Luckily for me, design was first a hobby and second a day-job, so typically - after going home from work, taking care of menial tasks like laundry, dishes, or eating dinner - I park myself back in front of my own computer and go back to work.
What am I working on? Right now my list of Web projects is so long that I had to break my to-do list into realistic chunks, organized by site, so that it's not so overwhelming. But first and foremost, I've been working steadily on the redesign of my friend Trina's site, trinabags.com (she makes beautiful, functional, homemade and custom-designed hand bags). After that, a pet project of mine (literally) called Toonces TV, which will essentially be a video blog for my soon-to-be-famous feline, Toonces. And after that? Redesigning and streamlining my husband's multiple Web sites, which include his personal portfolio site, Nameinuse.com, and the Web sites for his recent and upcoming films. I'm also hoping to spend time optimizing and expanding CollegeAftermath.com, a project I started over a year ago. And somewhere, at the bottom of my to-do list is "redesign RaeanneWright.com"... my personal site which has been vacant for nearly a year now, which I intend to combine with this blog and beautify in some incredibly creative way.
And on top of all that, I'm teaching myself more and currently going through the painful transition to standards-compliant CSS design from out-dated, traditional table-based layouts (I apologize if that is the equivalent of Greek to my readers). In English: I'm relearning how to make Web sites the right way, since I was self-taught and learned 100% of what I know from other people who weren't necessarily doing it right to begin with.
The cumulation of all this learning and all this Web work and all this sitting in front of the computer? A severe need to flex my muscles - literally - during my time away from the screen. I've been going to yoga twice a week now, and practicing more intensely at home, too. So ironically, despite the hours and hours I spend on my ass, I'm feeling stronger than ever and am reaching new levels in my practice that I never really imagined.
All of this is good, yes indeed. It's all in line with my New Year's resolutions and goals for 2008, which were, in short, to improve my body and mind. Check. And check.
This past week, though, I think I've pushed a little too hard. Work has been extra-stressful, and I've worked a couple late nights, thus taking it out harder on myself once I make it to the yoga mat. This morning, I made a ridiculously organized to-do list for the weekend, carving out my Web goals and deciding what was doable in two days. Shortly after? I felt the distant twinge of a sore throat swelling and the mild throb of a headache... I was getting sick! My body has had enough, and is failing. I take pride in my rock-solid immune system... but flus and colds have been going around and picking off pretty much everyone I know, and I wondered if it was only a matter of time.
So rather than spend the afternoon parked in front of the computer editing code, I spent the afternoon parked on the couch sleeping with the cat and drinking hot tea. I'm feeling better, as you might have guessed by my return to the computer, but I've decided I'm taking today off. After a few emails and a blog post (all on my to-do list, of course), I'm clocking out for the week. I need some rest, and my body is demanding it.
I'll be as far away as I can be from my well-worn computer chair until.... well, probably tomorrow.
Having multiple Web sites of my own that I maintain, and working as a Web and graphic designer, I literally am on the computer from 9am until 5pm, 5 days a week. Luckily for me, design was first a hobby and second a day-job, so typically - after going home from work, taking care of menial tasks like laundry, dishes, or eating dinner - I park myself back in front of my own computer and go back to work.
What am I working on? Right now my list of Web projects is so long that I had to break my to-do list into realistic chunks, organized by site, so that it's not so overwhelming. But first and foremost, I've been working steadily on the redesign of my friend Trina's site, trinabags.com (she makes beautiful, functional, homemade and custom-designed hand bags). After that, a pet project of mine (literally) called Toonces TV, which will essentially be a video blog for my soon-to-be-famous feline, Toonces. And after that? Redesigning and streamlining my husband's multiple Web sites, which include his personal portfolio site, Nameinuse.com, and the Web sites for his recent and upcoming films. I'm also hoping to spend time optimizing and expanding CollegeAftermath.com, a project I started over a year ago. And somewhere, at the bottom of my to-do list is "redesign RaeanneWright.com"... my personal site which has been vacant for nearly a year now, which I intend to combine with this blog and beautify in some incredibly creative way.
And on top of all that, I'm teaching myself more and currently going through the painful transition to standards-compliant CSS design from out-dated, traditional table-based layouts (I apologize if that is the equivalent of Greek to my readers). In English: I'm relearning how to make Web sites the right way, since I was self-taught and learned 100% of what I know from other people who weren't necessarily doing it right to begin with.
The cumulation of all this learning and all this Web work and all this sitting in front of the computer? A severe need to flex my muscles - literally - during my time away from the screen. I've been going to yoga twice a week now, and practicing more intensely at home, too. So ironically, despite the hours and hours I spend on my ass, I'm feeling stronger than ever and am reaching new levels in my practice that I never really imagined.
All of this is good, yes indeed. It's all in line with my New Year's resolutions and goals for 2008, which were, in short, to improve my body and mind. Check. And check.
This past week, though, I think I've pushed a little too hard. Work has been extra-stressful, and I've worked a couple late nights, thus taking it out harder on myself once I make it to the yoga mat. This morning, I made a ridiculously organized to-do list for the weekend, carving out my Web goals and deciding what was doable in two days. Shortly after? I felt the distant twinge of a sore throat swelling and the mild throb of a headache... I was getting sick! My body has had enough, and is failing. I take pride in my rock-solid immune system... but flus and colds have been going around and picking off pretty much everyone I know, and I wondered if it was only a matter of time.
So rather than spend the afternoon parked in front of the computer editing code, I spent the afternoon parked on the couch sleeping with the cat and drinking hot tea. I'm feeling better, as you might have guessed by my return to the computer, but I've decided I'm taking today off. After a few emails and a blog post (all on my to-do list, of course), I'm clocking out for the week. I need some rest, and my body is demanding it.
I'll be as far away as I can be from my well-worn computer chair until.... well, probably tomorrow.
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