Recently, as we went through the process to get Dave discharged from the hospital, the nurse looked at us and said, “They are recommending an OTC drug. I highly recommend you research it before you decide if you should take it.”
I smiled and said, “Don’t worry, I already have, but I really appreciate you saying something.”
It was a glimmer of hope in what had been a mostly frustrating experience with the medical personnel, and it sparked a fabulous conversation. During it, the nurse said something that has sat in my mind and on my heart for over a week. The words were, “A few years ago, I decided no matter what, I was going to make sure people had all the facts and could make an informed decision. I’m willing to risk the repercussions of that because people deserve the truth. Not everyone will be thankful for it, but I know I’ve done what I could to help.”
His straightforward honesty had a huge impact on me. I know fully well that I have become quieter and quieter over the past four years. Oh, I share one on one with a small group of friends, and I’m occasionally no-holds-barred on Twitter. But when it comes to most in-person gatherings, Facebook, or Instagram, I haven’t been sharing my whole authentic self (what I share is real, and not just the good stuff because that’s how I roll, but there is plenty I’ve kept under wraps.) That changes today because, just like the nurse, I believe people deserve the facts, even if they aren’t ready for them.
Oh, and I know it is hospital food, but really, eggshell in my salad did not help that situation.
So what was that OTC med?
A statin. I already knew going in I would encourage my husband to say “no, thank you” if this was pushed. This is a perfect example of having to be your own advocate and knowing how to dig for answers. Doctors prescribe statins every day, and Google will automatically tell you there are no links to mineral deficiencies or dementia. HOWEVER, if you research “myelin sheath”, even that search engine will immediately tell you cholesterol is needed for production of myelin, which protects brain cells and their functions. Statins also cause a CoQ10 deficiency, which the heart needs to function properly.
There are other serious side effects, but I don’t want you to take my word for it. Do a little digging around places like pubmed or nih, searching for statins in conjunction with minerals, the myelin sheath, neuropathy, MS, and more. And I’m certainly not telling you which decision to make. I simply want you to have all the information before you do.
I recently lost someone very dear to me. While the world would have called us friends, there is a circle of people who well understood that we were really family.
Her loss has devastated me. Twenty-five years ago, she and her blood family gave a young, lonely college student a home-away-from-home. What started out as a weekend job grew into a lasting bond. Losing such a fixture as that rocks your world to its very core.
This loss was compounded by current coronavirus orders and suppositions. I wasn’t able to do my random drop-by visits that we both so enjoyed. Knowing others stole that time from us makes the grief even more mind-numbing.
I’m usually one of those people that tackles difficult things head-on. Doing, helping, and supporting helps me to heal, but in this case, that was all taken away. I sat for the first few days, barely having the energy to lift my arm to take a drink of water. Forget eating or sleeping well because none of that was happening.
I realized I was going to have to do something to start processing my grief. While tears can be healing, I was simply wallowing in them. Here are some simple things I’m doing to begin healing my heart.
- Talk to people. I know, that sounds obvious, but in these days of so much isolation, it is more important than ever. There was no gathering when my friend died, no plans for a funeral. I so desperately needed human contact and to speak with people who knew her. Phone calls became my lifeline of sharing memories, telling hilarious stories, and chatting about what an amazing cook she was. Yes, I sobbed through many of these conversations, but it was incredibly therapeutic. I will say, though, I was selective with whom I spoke. Having people ask if it was due to corona or blow off my anger at not being able to see her would not have benefitted me in the least, so I only called people who would be a genuine source of support.
- Listen to your loved one’s voice. If you have a recording, voicemail message, or video, take the time to hear their words. Photographs are great, too, for reliving positive memories, but there is just something about hearing the person’s voice. It can make you feel closer to them and not quite so alone.
- Enjoy something they created or an activity you did together. This doesn’t have to be complicated. Maybe it’s a Christmas card from five years ago with a handwritten message. Perhaps you had some favorite songs you listed to together. It could be a favorite shared recipe or some really corny joke. In my case, my friend made bird feeders and have given me several. I filled those up right before a big snow storm, and for days I was able to enjoy watching the birdies and remembering how much she enjoyed spending time in her workshop.
The biggest thing to remember is something everyone says but you don’t really understand until you are in the throes of it: the grieving process is different for everyone, and that’s okay. There is no wrong way to do this, as long as you are taking care of yourself physically and emotionally and not harming others. If the steps above don’t speak to you, listen to your heart and find what does. And if you need a listening ear, I’m here for you.
If you need a place to share ideas about preserving knowledge of the past while putting your own modern twist on things, I would love to have you join us in Old Souls with New Ways.
