Comment & Answer: Gallbladder & Thyroid

The countdown is on for Christmas Eve: in days gone by....

In the comments section I was asked a question regarding what sort of thyroid problem I had, as well as a remark about the gallbladder and gallstones. I thought I'd address my answer as a post, given the complexity of the issues, especially when chronic illnesses such as "our" CFIDS/ME/CFS and fibromyalgia are thrown into the mix.  Furthermore, my answer was delayed more than the usual (sorry!) because my neuro-transmitters were again on strike.  I also wanted to check my medical info with a source.  So here we go!

After an initial gallbladder or gallstone attack and ER run in awful pain has been endured and experienced (why we can't experience things like a concert instead of ER visits is way beyond my comprehension) your doctor will normally send you on to the next step, the ultrasound:

• to further ascertain if you do indeed have stones
• to get an idea of how large they are
• to see if they pose a threat to the all-important bile ducts
• and "other considerations."

After that report comes in, depending on what was found during the ultrasound, the next step is the HIDA scan. This test is important because it will tell you if your gallbladder is functioning properly.  In other words, is your gallbladder working at 80% capacity, at 50% capacity, at 20% capacity?

After all the tests are done, a decision then needs to be made as to what to do with the stones and gallbladder.

So to get to what the reader who had a "bag full" of stones wanted to know or was commenting on, here's the rub:

The gallbladder may be healthy and functioning but because of the stones, it may well be having trouble contracting back to its normal size after a meal because the stones are there, taking up space and can irritate the interior of the gallbladder.  On the other hand, the gallbladder could be "shot," working at a barely functioning rate because of a host of problems.  That's why the HIDA scan is needed.

In my situation, my scan showed that my gallbladder was working at only 20% efficiency and that was two years ago.  Medically speaking, I should have had the surgery then.  However - and this is the BIGGEST "however" a woman can EVER make - my daughter's life was in danger and we almost lost her on more than a few occasions.  Our lives completely revolved around her for almost two years, and that included her two adult brothers caring and giving up weeks of their lives to help with the support needed during hospitalizations.  I was by her bedside 24/7 with each hospitalization, with a 20-minute break for shower, etc, once I got too mangy.  We, her family and her many doctors, all fought hard to keep her alive, a long and complicated story that reads less like fact and more like fiction.

The last thing I needed was to be out of commission for three weeks because we never knew when she'd suddenly need to be rushed to the ER locally or to the "major medical center" hours away by ambulance.  Now, what’s wrong with that sentence I just wrote?

Idiot Irene! (I just addressed myself here, not any other Irene!)  A gallbladder operation puts you out of commission for much more than three weeks!

All in all, before going home, my surgeon gave me three separate, serious, in-depth talks on how incapacitating a gallbladder operation is.  That is, I couldn't climb any stairs for a week, one flight allowed after a week, and so forth.   I wasn't to pick up anything heavier than 8 lbs at most and on and on and on. Furthermore, I got hand-outs galore explaining this problem, that anatomy, that procedure, everything but the proverbial kitchen sink.  Sheesh!

My surgeon even gave me recovery statistics for gallbladder surgery which said that after:

• 3 weeks, there is 20% recovery
• 6 weeks, 50% recovery
• 3 months, 80% recovery
• Greater than 4 months, 100% healed.

And yet, I still left the hospital thinking that what I'd gone through was no more serious than a hysterectomy, appendectomy or tonsillectomy.   It took a reader (thank you Melissa) warning me in no uncertain terms how serious gallbladder surgery is, especially when you throw in all the complications of CFIDS/ME/CFS and/or fibro.  That, in turn, led me to discuss the situation with my rheumatologist, who frankly almost lost it when he realized how vast the disconnect was, that I really was NOT "getting it"!

I was about to say that I finally "got it" but just realized that yesterday the painter/wallpaper hanger got here for what will be a two to three week job (stress, anyone?) and since we've known each other for 30 years but hadn't spoken in about four, we had a lot of catching up to do, then me climbing up and down stairs numerous times and that combined with Tuesday's adventures....   Well it's all put the kabosh on me and I wish someone could simply give me some anesthesia and wake me up in about a month - or two....

As to the thyroid: I developed hypothyroidism, diagnosed only a month before the emergency gallbladder surgery.  Now THAT I really had a problem adjusting to and wrote a few posts addressing this as well. I think a lot of people are really tired about hearing THOSE complaints on this blog!  (You can put thyroid or gallbladder into the search box and find more than you'll ever want to hear from me!)

Last night as hubby was getting ready to go to sleep, I suddenly said, "oh no, I forgot about the infections in my two big toes!" as I was thinking about everything I'd been through physically in the past almost 12 months alone.  One of the toes actually had to be lanced because my body wasn't responding to antibiotics.  Now that was an uncomfortable mess!

However, hubby said, "don't forget the cellulitis!"   Oh yeah!  (Or is it "Oh no!"?)  I HAD forgotten about it.   After sitting at the computer one evening when hubs was out of town, I got involved in an alumni Facebook page "cyber-pajama party" where a bunch us were suddenly into "remember when...."  The session really lasted no more than four hours and yet within 24 hours I somehow managed to develop a nasty case of cellulitis of my lower legs just from sitting at the computer for that long.  (Thank you, whomever, for the invention of the iPad!)  Luckily, antibiotics took care of that problem rather quickly.  But cellulitis?  Really????

Honestly, half the junk that happens to me doesn't even register.   Last week I fell down in the bathroom and laid there for four hours, not able to move. (It was actually quite pleasant lying there, taking in the new bathroom, the crazy Irene says!)  It only registered because the next day I had a huge sore spot on my thigh and was puzzled because there was no visible bruise there.  A few hours later I happened to scratch my head as I thought about something and THAT spot was sore, feeling like I should have had a goose egg there, but there was no swelling.  THAT'S when I remembered the fall and lying there for four hours.

Looking back now, a few days later, in 20/20 hindsight, I have to say, AM I NUTS????  Answer: YES!!!!   But in my defense I have to say that this DD is the absolute pits!

And so on that cheerful and nutty note, as always, I hope everyone is doing as well as can be, only better. Ciao and paka!

Progress Report Surprises

Well, today turned out to be a bit of a surprise.  Just as I think I know more or less the things that are "majorly" wrong with my body, the son-of-a gun (my body, that is) throws a curveball at me.  Oh CFIDS/ME/CFS and fibro, you evil, evil rascals  entities.  You betrayers of myself.

I saw my surgeon this morning - you who read my blog regularly MUST remember Dr. Hunk!  Oh, he's just a wonderful gentleman, from a different generation when people had beautiful manners but were ever so strong in a silent dignified way.  But I'm not going to extol his virtues today - I'll have to leave that for another time.  Sigh!

Instead I received more clues as to what's going on with me and I think that in the process I may have shocked the poor man a bit.  Three weeks ago, we didn't have much time, in the scheme of things, to talk about much but the upcoming and then resulting emergency surgery.  Today I found out that he was quite impressed with the fact that I had to have been "in a whole lot of pain" from the chronically-infected gallbladder and one of the stones which was a "whopping" 0.8 cm.  

He'd thought that I was nauseated and constantly throwing up before the surgery (I told him our family's weird that way: we don't do nausea nor barfing) and he said that I would be feeling sooo much better very soon because of the surgery, once the healing sets in "big time."  He gave me another blow by blow of how long it takes your body to recover, how much recovery is done by x amount of weeks, months, etc.

I told him that I was "unusual" in that after surgeries, I've always felt my best, the theory being that my immune system had something to fight, other than my own body.  In other words, my immune system was way too busy fixing me up and boy oh boy, it was nice to get a break, relatively speaking, from too much pain.  Oh, I had pain, but not like I normally have it and I've hardly had to take any pain medication at all as my body heals.  Very weird.  Shows how you DO NOT GET ADDICTED TO OPIATES IF YOU ARE UNDER THE CARE OF A DOCTOR WHO KNOWS WHAT HE IS DOING AND IF YOU'RE ONLY TAKING THOSE OPIATES WHEN YOU ABSOLUTELY NEED THEM!  

But as the appointment went on, I think he started to realize, finally, that the infected gallbladder was the least of my problems.  I told him I had no idea that the gallbladder had been an "outstanding" problem and only felt nausea when seeing too much fruit and didn't have enough meat protein.  Furthermore, the fact that I'd had pneumonia since July and hadn't known it had definitely shocked me - as it ended up shocking him that I'd not realized it too.  He then discovered that I never really had much pain in the gallbladder area but three times, mostly because I'm always going through bigger pains in other areas.  When he saw all the medications I was on, he started getting a better idea of the stress my body is under always, as in chronically, relentlessly, and without end.  Unfortunately. (Though fortunately, in that he understood what was going on, or getting a small picture of it, having an open mind, not rigid in thinking like too many other doctors can be.)

He also got a kick, in a perverse way, from finding out that the pain from the surgery woke me up, not a nurse, and that instead of expecting pain medication to help me with the post-surgical pain, I wanted to walk around - in the recovery room!  When I asked the nurse for permission, she was quite taken aback and couldn't believe I wanted to walk.  I simply thought they wouldn't give me any medication for the pain - having been through the machinations of the "major medical center" and its attitude towards pain with my daughter and the barbaric and lackadaisical attitudes towards pain relief.  He looked a bit put out by the perhaps "inflated" reputation of the "major medical center."  Actually, I saw quite a bit of that at the hospital during my stay and was quite happy to see that the high rating of the "major medical center" may not be as kosher as some would have us believe.

Oh my, YES!  They saved my daughter's life and on more than a couple of occasions. I'll forever be beyond grateful to them for that, beyond any words I could ever express.  Her surgeon was BEYOND superb and I can't praise HIM highly enough, but that is where it ends because they also caused her so much unnecessary pain - off-the-chart pain which added to the stress on her already weakened body.  They are great for a few things which very few places in the world can do, but in my humble opinion, they are really below par for the non-sexy issues which don't help them with their fundraising.  I seem to be under the mistaken impression that they should be superb and better in ALL their departments, but then I guess I'm just too picky!

I also want to add that "major medical centers" in general are definitely overrated.  I saw a commercial on TV recently and it said something about our community hospital being 12th in the country - yes, nation-wide!!! - for coronary efficiency, skill and care in ER centers.  Impressive, but I've always known that our town has superb medical care.  On the other hand, it's great to hear that we're being recognized! 

So, back to Dr. Hunk  my surgeon: I think he now has a new respect for those of "us" with CFIDS/ME/CFS and fibro!  Today he saw a woman in front of him who had been through h*ll and was still able to handle it as if it was a minor irritation.  This is the sort of thing that I want to convey to the world.  

But the body betrayal!  My body never ceases to amaze me, truly.  It turns out we have yet another surprise.  My body, according to the pathology report, is still in renal failure, not having recovered from the near-death experience of last year - a year ago this month - when I had two surgeries for compartment syndrome and all my organs started shutting down and worse.  Evidently it's not enough renal failure for dialysis, but still enough for it to be a serious problem and consideration.  Me: what else is new?  I'm losing body parts right and left, why should this be different?  But I suppose that when I see my GP, I'll need to have a talk with him about this new "discovery," along with all the other surprises we've discovered since I last saw him about six weeks ago.

And that's my progress report.  It feels rather self-indulgent going into all this detail.  On the other hand, my head is spinning with all of this news.  I need to figure out what everything means.  I STILL forget to take my thyroid medication until I start experiencing various symptoms returning.  My body is always surprising me: one day it can be my peripheral neuropathy that reminds me that I forgot to take my medication that morning, the next day it may be when my voice starts to go very hoarse and I sound as if I'm croaking.  Perhaps I should start a New Year's Resolution list now and put taking my thyroid medication on time each morning as number one on the list.   On the other hand, what about all the other number ones that need to be on the list?  

Man oh man.  How many more surprises can my body bear, I have to wonder?

I did, however, do my civic duty and voted: that was absolutely fun since I ended up talking for a little while to my old/former neighbor's sister, who's 91 years old.  In the midst of our conversation, I mentioned how often I remember her mom and the conversations we would have across our mutual fence.  The daughter was obviously touched and said "Mother" would have loved to know that I remembered her so often, and most especially our mutual love for gardening.  How I still miss those neighbors!  And how I love our little-town feel, especially on election day when you run into neighbors you -Ok, *I* - don't see very often any longer, due to the DD.

And to top it all off, hubby and I did indeed get to TJ Maxx and managed to fill up two and a half carts of things needed for the house as we will try to get the house into shape for the holiday season - IF we can get it looking like we're not in the middle of the remodeling and redecorating phase which, actually, we definitely ARE in.  (I KNEW we should have simply moved!)

So, all in all, it was a very up and down day.  I know that the next week is going to be payback for all the socializing and feeling "human" that I did today, but it will have been worth it.  Every once in a while you have to turn off that computer in your head that factors in every step you take and gauges it as to how much of a price will be paid.   Of course, with my recent luck, I just hope that I don't end up paying for that sort of thinking by losing yet another body part - I'm really attached to the remaining ones I still have, knock on wood!  (JOKE, I hope!?)

As always, I hope everyone is feeling their very best, only better. Ciao and paka!

Betrayed!

One of the best days of my life was reviewing my SPECT brain scan and seeing tangible evidence of all the damage in my left brain.

I'm not a conspiracy theorist, but if one looks at the story of CFIDS and/or fibromyalgia, one can't help thinking, "we" who are afflicted with CFIDS/ME/CFS and/or fibromyalgia were "doomed," for whatever reasons, right from the start.

It seems that NOTHING has gone right in the past almost 40 years.  Excuse me for repeating myself just a tiny bit from what I wrote in my "P*ssed Off" post, but to put us all on the same page, here are just two points I made: the few funds we fought so hard for from the NIH, were misappropriated by other agencies and really, no one cried "foul," much less was anyone taken to court for criminal activity.  When the doctors at Incline Village, Nevada could finally talk the CDC into sending a "team" to investigate the outbreak of this new disease - in a cluster - the "team" had the gall to spend its time skiing and sampling the restaurants instead, with the "team" arriving in Atlanta and declaring there was no outbreak in Incline Village.  And so it went....

It's now decades later and a third generation is becoming ill with this truly monstrous,  hideously cruel, though highly invisible, disease.  And what's happening?

Well, what's always happened, but for a few glorious years in the late '80's and '90's, is that we are being thrown back into the psychiatric wastebasket.  What???  It's the 21st century and we’re doing what?  Going back to 1970's standards?

• A couple of points first:  There are markers that can be found that prove CFIDS/ME/CFS and fibro exist.  The elevated protein in my spinal fluid is just one example, and it was seen in 1984 and 1988!  Yet are these biomarkers being used in anything that can help the CFIDS, etc, patient?   Not much.  Ampligen, around since the 1970's is still trying to get off the ground and avoid bankruptcy.  Funny, Viagra never had this problem.  Heck, Viagra was the first drug (or thereabouts) to be fast-tracked.  Those congressmen and senators wanted their...well,  you know what THEY wanted!  And they GOT it, as I'm sure everyone's aware, given all of us have gotten a spam or two trying to sell us the product, for male OR female, since we started exploring with the most primitive of computers and the Internet.
• Furthermore, just as another example - albeit a very stunning and almost unbelievable example - until the 1960's, rheumatoid arthritis, a disease NO ONE today would dispute as being a terrible physical affliction, was thought to have its origins in mental illness.  And yet man was almost to the moon when this disease was still marginalized and worse.  The term, "Rheumatoid personality" was used quite extensively until blood tests like Rheumatoid factor became commonplace.  Mental institutions a hundred years ago were filled with patients who had such physical problems as lupus and thyroid disease, to name a few.  It wasn't until objective blood testing revealed the true cause of the patients' problems and effective treatment could be sought after and implemented that the psychological wastebasket treatment was thrown out.  See a parallel with the mess we're dealing with here???

This sort of thinking is not just insulting but it's downright dangerous as well. There are consequences that will and are being paid because of this lackadaisical attitude.  Some entity, a government, a bunch of people, some sort of institute doesn't like a certain illness, well, then just throw it into a psychological wastebasket.  I think Hitler had that problem to some degree, no?   But it gets worse.  Here are some bullet points for you!

• Throwing CFIDS into the psychological/psychiatric category causes people not to be inspired to look for the real causes or co-morbidities.  The proof is in the pudding, folks.  We're no further now in 2012 than we were back in the 1970's, really, or for all practical purposes.
• Betrayal by the American College of Rheumatology.   Now there really needs to be no touching of the patient: overlap of CFIDS & fibro, both diagnosed clinically, that have, for all practical purposes, no lab test or x-ray that leads to diagnosis are in for a lot of trouble.  Oh, some tests are available, but the testing is incredibly difficult to obtain and no insurance company is going to OK the costs.  The scarier part, to me at least, is that the American College of Rheumatology (once a great champion of fibro and CFIDS) proposed a new set of fibro criteria in 2010 which was based on the patient's history, a questionnaire which would yield a Widespread Pain Index (WPI) and a Symptom Severity Scale Score.  If the WPI reveals pain in at least a certain number of body parts and the symptoms of fatigue, cognitive problems and unrefreshing sleep are sufficiently severe then one is labeled as having fibro.  Imagine this, in contrast to the 1990 fibro criteria, where a minimum number of tender points had to be present.  Now the doctor doesn't need to touch you at all!  Furthermore, the dolorimeter, an easy, practical, HARMLESS and inexpensive test, which was used to measure pain threshold is basically gone, as is the Brain SPECT scan, which shows abnormal blood flow in the brains of fibro and CFIDS sufferers.  Yet the"useless," "harmful" and money-making (money-wasting) tilt table test is still out there, almost a relic of the Spanish Inquisition, and  persists. (Getting rid of the tilt table test is like trying to kill off Rasputin!)
• With no touching of the patient, only a questionnaire, how accurate are the criteria?  They become completely subjective and hardly objective at all.  This only gives ammunition to those who say that CFIDS and fibro are not real illnesses or that they are psychological.

Along with no - or only a cursury - physical examination, other potentially serious illnesses would likely be missed (as is already happening, me being Speciman A!):

• The sad thing is that medicine in general is become more and more depersonalized with an over-reliance on testing, and a minimum of physical contact between the doctor and patient.  When the doctor would check for fibro tender points, he would often find evidence of such co-morbidities as myofascial pain syndrome, arthritis, thyroid disease, growth hormone deficiency, to name a few.  It seems as if the newer criteria are for the convenience of the doctor, not for the benefit of the patient.  It's bad enough that fibro and CFIDS patients are labeled as being depressed or suffer from anxiety, but if this trend continues, even those docs whose hearts are in the right place will rely more and more on questionnaires and less and less on physical findings.
• This psychological wastebasket is also dangerous since once patients are labeled as mentally ill, all symptoms are viewed through that prism and physical pathology all too often goes undiscovered. It is important to note that fibro and CFIDS patients score very differently on standardized pyscholological tests than do patients with depression.  For example, the depressed patient will not attempt a task or activity, underestimating his ability to perform it, whereas the patient with CFIDS or fibro truly believes that he can accomplish a given task only to collapse when the flare of the disease knocks him down or out.  Yet that very patient believes that in the future he can attempt the task and succeed.  No two types of patients could be more different, yet the medical establishment stresses the psychological and downplays the physical.  When a rheumatologist is asked to use a questionnaire instead of a physical exam to diagnose a physical ailment, something is very wrong - after all, don't psychiatrists behave this way, never touching the patient?
• Why is it that medications such as anti-inflammatories, anlagysics, and quinine are taken off the market for problems which cause side effects in relatively rare instances?  However, medications such as Lyrica and Lunesta, which are still on the market and are so dangerous that they are required to disclose mind-blowing side-effects on their TV commercials - which not only include suicidal ideation, but suicidal actions - are still being sold like pancakes at Octoberfest?  Why is it that we are so "persecuted," since I cannot think of another word to use?

As I wrote in an earlier post, Stalin, in his great sanity (not!) decided to punish the "rich," "peasant" class, the most productive class in Russia and the Ukraine, called them "kulaks" and took all their land, food and shelter away from them, then shipping them to Siberia in cattle cars.  This occurred in the famine he induced, on purpose, in order to kill at least 10 million Ukrainians in just one winter, 1932-33.  These two countries, Russia and the Ukraine, are still feeling the repercussions of having lost so much talent, 80 years ago.

Somehow I feel as if this country - plus a few others; we are not alone in this criminal behavior - in the land of the free and the brave, is treating each of us as "kulaks" also, again.  The vast majority of us with CFIDS/ME/CFS and fibromyalgia were all highly productive citizens at one time, contributing to taxes, the economy, the work force, but many are now trying to get by on meager government funding, which is barely enough to stay alive. Think of how much good to society we are wasting when we allow such a highly-motivated and skilled population to rot away. Yep, we're like the kulaks. The only difference is that we're just dying at a somewhat slower pace.

We paid our taxes, we trusted our government, as well as the medical system, and we've been betrayed in the worst possible way.

What can be done about our situations?  I'm not really sure, but here are just a few thoughts:

•  I know that celebrities have often changed the course of illnesses or causes.  AIDS' "perfect storm" was when Rock Hudson, the beloved movie star, contracted AIDS.  The country softened its views about AIDS.  To further away the stigma, then Elizabeth Taylor, Princess Diana (under great criticism), Elton John and young Ryan White, who was helped by Elton John, were able to stir the conscience of this country's attitude toward AIDS and funding - and to make it not feared like leprosy - an analogy which I've always found to be repulsive since why should leprosy be stigmatized?  Actually, it took a lot more pieces for that "perfect storm," but these were the ones that put AIDS on the map and made it no longer the fatal disease it was in its first years, if medication is taken properly.  Yes, it's expensive, but then so too is my Human Growth Hormone alone, not to mention the 25 plus meds that I'm on, give or take a few, depending on which year it happens to be.
• Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD) worked because Candice Lightner, the mother of a girl tragically killed by a drunk driver, knocked on every congressman and senator's door, repeatedly, befriending staff with coffee and donuts until she found someone who might be able to help.  It was a tough job but look what it led to!  (And yes, there are political problems, but again, look at the results!)
• Breast Cancer awareness began at a grassroots level.  Parkinson's entered the mainstream with Michael J. Fox, and his dogged determination.
• Autism became big when upper-class parents united.

But CFIDS and fibro?  We need to find our celebrities, our dogged pursuers, the ganging together by healthy people who are on our side and start a huge funding project for our cause.  How this will happen when the American College of Rheumatology has given up on us as well, I'm not sure.  I know it's not going to happen for a while.  But happen it must.

Our country can't afford to keep losing its greatest resources, its best and its brightest.

As always, I hope everyone is feeling their best, only better.  Ciao and paka!


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Friday Tidbits: Just Chatter Today!

This one's for my twitter pal, "The Dude" from Wales.

Oh no! How could I possibly forget that it's time for "Friday's Tidbits"?  Well, I called my BFF, whom I'd not actually spoken to in ages (emailing a lot however!), both of us too busy with "life" and we got carried away with an hours-long conversation about everything and nothing - our usual.

So I'm afraid that today's "Friday's Tidbits" will be a bit of a cheat.  Which is right, I suppose, since everyone's long departed for their weekends, but most of all, so many are suffering from the ravages of Sandy.

We've all been busy with Hurricane Sandy - with everyone in the States trying to get in touch with family and friends in the areas hit.  My mom in NJ turned out to be OK, as well as a good life-time friend from Long Island and her extended family.  My heart sank when I heard about what was going on with New York University Hospital because my oldest was born there and we lived just a small block away from there.  Seeing the burned-down houses in Queens hurt because hubby is from there. We got lots of rain, rain and more rain with seemingly unstoppable winds and a huge limb falling off a tree and landing on one of our cars.  They are taking the tree down even as I type this, for fear that the old tree will come down any minute if we get even a breeze.  It snowed just south of us but thankfully we had no snow.

I've decided that my biggest goal in life now is to get to TJ Maxx.  Yes, folk, I have such high aspirations in life now!   I'm slowly getting ready for Thanksgiving and Christmas by doing a lot of Internet shopping, but most things will need to be returned as they don't suit: hence the goal of TJ Maxx.  Actually, if I'm going to jinx myself, I might as well go on and tell you that my goal is a WEEKLY trip to TJ's!  This from someone who hasn't been out of the house but twice since July, and once was for major surgery???   (Can we all say "delusional"?)  But hopefully I'll feel well enough to get to my surgeon's appointment on Tuesday and once I'm out the door I'm unstoppable!  It'll hopefully be the DMV (there is an extension to getting my driver's licence renewed, hallelujah!), a stop to do my duty and vote, and then TJ Maxx?  Could my life get so exciting???  Could hubby stand the excitement?  Stay tuned to see what drama develops! (Pathetic attempt at humor!)

And I'm happy to report that if you go to my Facebook page you'll see that Labyorkie is safe: she has no way of getting onto this web site but was able to send me a message on the Facebook site, so I'm quite relieved.

So, sorry for the chattiness of today's "post."   It reads more like a letter, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all that....

In the meanwhile, I am keeping positive thoughts and prayers going for those who have been stricken by Hurricane Sandy and hope that people are able to have food, shelter, clothing and heating.  This has been one national disaster that will find many affected for a huge amount of time and I know that all of our hearts go out to those who are suffering such hard times.   Until next time, ciao and paka!  God speed!

Happy Halloween!

I think it's about time for a light post today, a departure from the CFIDS/ME/CFS, fibro and all its myriad of problems. I've already had a huge fall today and managed to leave a lot of blood behind on the carpeting, suddenly seeing the wisdom of my surgeon, "Dr. Hunk" (you just knew I had to add that part, of course!) and since I had another approximately ten minor falls before and after that, I thought, perhaps the fellow knew what he was talking about when he put me on strict bed rest (imagine that! JOKE!)  

Anyway, since it's Halloween today, I thought I'd go to my favorite place, the past, and just talk a bit about this very strange custom we've developed in the US, Canada and Great Britain and several other European countries, as well as a few Asian ones.  Forgive me if there are other countries out there who celebrate - I'd love to hear about it if so!

Halloween had a funny start in my family.   Growing up, I had just gone to kindergarten in mid-September with no English when I started, but by October, I thought that I had enough of a vocabulary when I understood that we children were to go around that day (first mistake!) ringing doorbells for Halloween and presto!, we would receive candy for no reason whatsoever.  Of course, given my one month plus a week of English and having just turned 5 years old less than two weeks before, a bit was lost in translation, as they would say.

I just love this picture because it sums up the way my daughter was /is always looking out after the boys,  a real maternal person, just like her mom!

So, as soon as I arrived home from school I made another calculated escape - my poor mom: I was always so gutsy and/or adventurous or just plain crazy/imaginative! - and went "trick or treating" on my own without mom but dragging my poor younger brother with me, he who had a love/hate feeling about all the "adventures" I'd force onto him.  I thought that I was fully prepared, since I knew how to say the magic words after much practice in school that morning with "trick or treat" - or "trrriiiiik urrrr trreeet!" as the words sounded coming from my mouth.  Mistake number two: what I hadn't realized was that no one was trick or treating at 1:30  in the afternoon, nor were they using the front of their school dresses as a big bag to put candy into.  

Neighborhoods were true neighborhood back in the day (sort of like the little one we live in now, which is famous for its Norman Rockwell feel) and the front of my dress, with slip showing, was full of candy by the time my mother found me/us a block away from home - a HUGE breaking of the rules - I thought of it as "stretching" of the rules and I also strongly felt it WAS Halloween after all.  Heaven knows, my just turned 5 years-old mind said that mom was just too much of a foreigner to grasp the importance of the situation and the importance of Halloween!   My mom proceeded to lecture me the whole way home, angry as a hornet when really just scared and relieved  that I was alive, of course, while I was exasperated since I hadn't crossed any streets, after all!   Once we were home she dressed me as a gypsy, however, and miraculously she took me trick or treat to my heart's content, with little brother in tow.

HOWEVER: and there's always a HOWEVER when it comes to my mom.  The "old" European dentist was completely against all sugar.  She thought we were already "spoiled Americans" because we ate soooo much sugar.  Yeah: HUGE amounts.  Let's see, a piece of cake for my brother's birthday, my birthday, my mom's and my dad's.   Then there was always a bit of chocolate for Easter and Christmas and the couple of times a year someone would slip us a tiny piece of Russian candy.  Oh yeah.  We were sooooo spoiled!  I was shocked when I married hubs: he expected dessert every night. Dessert?  Was he kidding me?  That was for holidays only!  Talk about culture shock!   

But getting back to my mom: she would let us have about two pieces of candy and the rest would mysteriously disappear, a piece or two appearing only once or twice each year (and very stale by then!) as a reward for good behavior, good grades, or learning an EXTRA Russian poem.  Yep, my mom.  That rebellious soul!

At any rate, unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on how you look at it - there are no pictures remaining of our Halloweens growing up.  They would truly be priceless.  But I do have my kids' pictures and of course, I had to put some of those up!   Just be thankful you're only getting three!   The rest are in boxes that need organizing: a huge project that I'm trying to work on but things keep getting in the way!

I most certainly hope that those who live in the areas affected by Hurricane Sandy are doing all right.   We've had high winds and lots of rain with threats of snow (it snowed south of us) with a huge tree limb falling on one of our cars but we have had no electrical outages, just "almost" outages.   I do hope everyone is feeling the best they possibly can be, only better.  Ciao and paka!

Happy Halloween, everyone.   I hear hubs downstairs and it is endless kids coming to the door, just as it should be!  

P*ssed OFF!!!!

Edward Munch's "The Scream": Note the two men in the background: the two disinterested parties!

Today I happened upon yet another article about CFS and/or vs. ME and let me tell you it hurt - badly.  I am so damn tired of all the psycho-babble I've had to put up with for 38 years and frankly I'm p*ssed.  However, if I'm truly honest, I'm mostly hurt.  It just feels more demeaning to admit that I'm hurt, since it takes away my power - or what's left of it, that is -it makes me feel vulnerable and one thing I've never been is "vulnerable." 

I'm a strong woman whose family survived Lenin, Stalin and Hitler.  Try living with those genes and DNA!  For background, just to show you what "we" are made  of, in 1932 when 10 million Ukrainians died from the Stalin-induced famine, our family made it.  So, you think a bit of psychology is going to make me sick?  Our huge amount of hectares gifted by Catherine the Great was taken away - for the infamous "collective farms," or "kolkhozy" - and the family was shipped in cattle cars to Siberia, but we endured.  

Given this sort of background, what some sort of unhappiness is going to ruin my health?  My mom had a swollen belly from starvation for a year, suffered malaria for seven years, worked in a German forced labor (slave labor) camp during the end of WW ll and some sort of psychology/psychiatry is going to hurt my health?  I was raised on daily freshly squeezed carrot juice each morning (don't ask!), hot porridge, fresh soup, meat and veggies every single day until I left for college, but for two wonderful years in boarding schools, and I'm going to get sick because of some stupid psychological reasons?  We had a strong community.  I went to Russian Orthodox camp each year for the experience and the wonderful Catskills Mountains.

I hate it when the whole psycho-babble is brought out.  Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, could be further from the truth.

When I got sick in 1975, I was very thin, too thin.  I also had very little money so I finished my BA in English literature in three years and one quarter, quite the feat, but because we paid by the quarter, not the credit hour, I felt I had to do it that way.  Almost everyone of my fellow campers were high achievers, typical type-A personalities who ended up working prestigious jobs such as translators for the joint US/USSR space programs, top translators for US presidents, professors at ivy league schools.

I took such heavy loads that I had to get special permission from the dean.  I also had to take all heavy reading and writing courses towards that end because I started out as a math major and had other courses to make up for that deficit as I finished my BA.

But my days at university were the happiest of my life up to that time.  I loved my "uni."  I absolutely thrived there.  I felt as if I had friends from all sorts of fields and when I started my Master's and met one of my best friends in grad school, she marveled that I knew "everyone" on campus.  I didn't, of course, but crossing the drill field was often quite a social event because I always knew quite a few people. 

I got on very well with my profs, one of whom is still a great friend to this day.  In fact, I brought my fiancé down to meet him and got "Papa Squires'" OK on marrying the guy.  It was not an easy-peasy interview, poor hubs.

So, when I got sick in grad school it was because of reasons that had to do with finishing my Master's while simultaneously writing papers, doing original research, writing my Master's thesis and reading ten novels a week, reading critical analyses of the works I read, and often writing papers on the novels, as well as teaching two freshman English courses, and grading approximately six papers each quarter (with huge corrections and suggestions along with conferences) for about 30 kids per class.  

Then I got sick in March of 1975 but as soon as my mom could get me well enough in April, my friends all pitched in to help me study for my Master's Oral's, the dreaded two-hour exam with several professors who could ask me anything at all to do with any period of British or American literature (from minutiae such as obscure quotes and dates to my take on huge literary overviews) as well as the history of the two nations (with a tiny bit of French history thrown in, given the impact of the French revolution on British and American literature).  All this with only a can of tuna each day, with 2 teaspoons of mayo mixed in and 2 saltine crackers.

People commented about my weight and I loved it.  Skinny was in, maybe even more so then than now.

Another "mistake" I made was my lack of sleep.  My final year I lived on 2-4 hours of sleep a night and was famous for my all-nighters.  However, what will always stick out in my mind is Thanksgiving week when I couldn't make the 12-hour drive home and stayed at school to finish as much work as possible for the quarter.  That week I survived on 2-4 hours TOTAL for 7 days and nights.  Nuts?  Maybe and probably, looking back, but it was a "no pain, no gain era."   Furthermore, I had always been driven and determined.

But happy?  I was in absolute 7th heaven.  I was able to get my BA and my Masters in just 5 years total - which should have taken me 7 or more years - all while teaching too.  The only downside was that after the flu (six weeks and going back way too soon but I was so determined!) I was suddenly having trouble recovering my stamina.  I couldn't do what I did before.  I even ended up in the hospital that summer (at my mom's home in NJ) with a bad case of colitis from all the antibiotics I had to take, because all my secondary infections had secondary infections.

But I swear: If I EVER again come close to a medical professional/specialist who SHOULD know better who DARES to imply that anything was psychological or psychiatric to my illness, I may have to b*tch-slap him or her.  And I don't give a flying "F" if I'm jailed for it: it might be the only advocacy I can see myself doing at this stage in my life!  Psychological factors can be nothing further from the truth.  

Shortly thereafter, (that is, after receiving my MA), I met my hubby and I knew the moment I laid eyes on him, 38 years ago if anyone is counting, on an unwanted "blind date" that we would marry ("Aw sh*t, this is what I've been waiting for all my life?!?" is what ran through my head as I laid eyes on him - I so was NOT looking for marriage but wanted my career).   Yet within a month we were making wedding plans.  Two days later I started working at another university a few states away from NY, started my PhD, something I'd wanted all my life.  

However, I knew that I couldn't handle a long-distance romance, teaching, and working on my final degree, though ironically, I had very little time to finish my PhD.  For some reason, all my credits were applied towards my PhD and since my Master's thesis was original, I had to just fill it out a bit.  But going back to school wasn't working.  I was happy but I was too sick.  I had a good friend who would occasionally con me into playing racket ball with him but I couldn't go but five or ten minutes without falling.  I soooo loved going to school.  I was making friends and I had my old friends from camp at church, much to my joy, plus my married BFF lived in the area.  

Instead Lady Luck came around when I decided I would stop after one semester.  I got two jobs in prestigious publishing houses in NYC, right on 5th Avenue.  People fought for or only dreamed of these kinds of jobs and then in the mailrooms (as I'd have been happy to get a job there just to get my foot in the door).  Scribner's and Norton's?  OMG!  But I arrived in NYC with glowing recommendations and immediately found a job with an editor who spent most of his time telling me stories about Franklin Roosevelt, the Kennedy's and even Svetlana Alliluyeva, Stalin's daughter: that was the sort of family he came from.  

When his assistant came back after almost 3 months of medical leave, I already had a job lined up in trade sales at Scribner's where I made decisions as to which books got reprinted and how many copies.  Those were pretty major publishing houses!  They were something I couldn't have imagined in my wildest dreams, the home of Hemingway and Fitzgerald in the case of Scribner's, just to name two greats.  I eventually had three wonderful children and my hubby is a professional.  What more can/could a girl ask for?

No, my real nightmare began only once I started to complain to doctors that there was definitely something wrong with me.  Then the "psychological sh*t" aspects of my health started to come into question.  But they were so very wrong.   Very wrong.  Things were great.  "So, up your's," ANYONE who wants to take it up with me!  I'm game!  MORE than GAME!

At this point, I can safely say, I know MORE than most frigging so-called specialists.  Want a fight, an argument?  You have NO idea whom you are dealing with and who I have on my side as the experts, so step down and shut the "F" up!   Stop torturing the kids who are coming up now, a third generation, for God's sake!

Shame on you that you guys never had the nerve to stop or truly investigate the criminal misappropriations of the very few funds the NIH had to research CFIDS.  Shame on the CDC guys who went out to Incline Village to investigate the breakout of a "new" disease and spent their time skiing instead.  And shame on some of the so-called specialists out there who are, frankly, media whores.

That's how I see it and that's 38 years of crap that I've put up with which has done nothing, but allowed a third generation to now be just as sick as I got back in 1975.  For heaven's sake, 15-year olds are now getting sick!  THAT IS JUST UNJUSTIFIABLE AND WORSE!!!!   It's criminal!

Yes, I'm all for breast cancer awareness and research.  But perhaps it's time to put some of those dollars into CFIDS and fibro.  The three leading causes of death for CFIDS?  Cancer, heart disease and suicide.   Funny, how the government doesn't even keep track of the suicide rate.  And the suicide is NOT psychological.  It's the pain and suffering that can't be tolerated any longer.  Make no mistake: the treatment by the so-called specialists is also killing them/us.

There's an expression, "they kill horses, don't they?"  Trust me.  We are suffering MUCH more than horses!!!

Guess Who the Idiots ARE: The NIH?

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Friday Tidbits: ER tips

Oh yes!  Today is Friday, the day of the week when it seems that IF we're going to get sick, it'll most definitely be after 3pm (though, unfortunately, usually at 5pm), just as doctor's offices are closing for the weekend.  Tell me you haven't experienced this at least 10 times in your life, especially if you're a mom with a gang of kids who bring home all but the seven plagues of Egypt into your home.  Huh?  I thought so...!   And having CFIDS/ME/CFS and fibro or any chronic illness seems to bring us to the ER all too often.

Given that last night it was my (adult) daughter's turn to grace our local ER with her presence (she works with kids so she too brings home all sorts of fun germs and viruses) - though not on a Friday night, thankfully - I thought I'd list a few "helpful hints" about ER visits in general.  I swear, these last few years our family alone seems to be keeping the medical industry in our area in business single-handedly, with little exaggeration.  I'd love to relinquish THAT title!   Really and truly, contrary to all indications, we're normally a "disgustingly" healthy family, with the one notable exception being me. I've taken to trying to remember if I'd accidentally broken any mirrors in the last few years and one does come to mind but surely it's been seven years by now!  Oh well.  It is what it is.

And so onwards with my ER tidbits:

• If you live in an area where you have more than one ER, I think it's preferable to go to one consistently, if at all possible.  At the risk of making our family sound weirder than ever, there really is a certain feeling of "comfort" and "coming home" when you go through those doors and the hospital personnel recognizes you. Suddenly you're a person and not a statistic or a number, an important distinction if you're a "legitimate" patient who has serious problems which are already recognized by the staff.  
• If you go often enough, a box of chocolate or some flowers sent to the department at a later date goes a long way in the treatment in coming months (or days) because staff remember and are touched.  After all, who ever thinks to remember the ER personnel, and yet there they are, working to save our lives, often under the most disgusting conditions.  A token gift just shows them that the staff is not simply numbers but people too.
• It's not always possible to go to the same hospital ER because your doctor may decide to admit in only one hospital, but make sure you know which hospital(s) all of your doctors admit their patients and go from there.  I always feel knowledge is power and every hospital has it's own idiosyncrasies and rules.  (If you're a reader, I recommend The Man Who Couldn't Eat by Jon Reiner, and the screw-up with his Crohn's Disease that was messed up because of...well, read the book.  It's surprisingly funny and if you're into food or NYC, you'll especially love it!  It's also available at Amazon at a bargain price.)

• Try to be distinctive in some way, but in a very nice way!  Being recognized by ER staff (ie, making you a human and not a number) can also extend to something silly, though memorable, like silly socks or funny undies; girls, think cute boxers (thongs are a dime a dozen, I'm afraid, and sort of a turn-off, giving off the wrong vibe - you're going to an ER, not a "gentleman's club"!)  My daughter loves to buy wild Betsey Johnson socks at TJ Maxx and somehow seemed to always have a pair of them on whenever she was run to the ER.  The staff learned who she was long before "her time" simply because they wanted to see the latest pair of crazy but cute socks.
• Bring a list of the meds that you take, please!  It was a rookie mistake on my part that we forgot to bring a list during my ER run and subsequent surgery two weeks ago and then proceeded to forget to mention one of my scores of meds. Unfortunately, after surgery, I really needed that forgotten medication.   Furthermore, if you're admitted: 1) ask your attending if you'll be able to continue taking all medications; 2) ask if there is any med you should bring from home.  In my case, we didn't realize that we should have brought my own thyroid med (good to know now) but to be fair who could have realistically predicted such a rare reaction such as my hives, itchy skin and rashes suddenly appearing?  Also, the only way to get my Adult Growth Hormone is by courier from the insurance company, so that is always brought to the hospital and locked up in a refrigerated case.
• Between one med forgotten to be mentioned and a second checked off the list by my doctor AND NOT BEING INFORMED ABOUT THE CHANGE BY HIM makes me feel that next time I'm in the hospital I may ask for someone else who may cover my regular GP.  However, when I next see my GP, I am most definitely going to discuss this with him.  I like to be included in my care if I'm conscious - just a bit of a quirk with me, I suppose!  I should also not be so "uncomfortable" in the hospital (understatement) that I end up begging my attending to allow me to go home with the result being that I ended up being rushed back to the ER by ambulance within less than 24 hrs, dying and on the "iffy" list for a week with my surgery last year.
• Point: you must have good communication with your doctor - sort of like with Dr. He's-A-Hunk!, who sat on my bed, invaded my space and looked me in the eyes while explaining everything to the nth degree.
• If you do have a Doctor Hunk, or are worried that you may not remember things told you, ask your doctor if you can tape the important points of conversation or have a friend or family member with you who can help out as your patient advocate.  Some might mind being recorded, but others might not.  I think it wouldn't hurt to try to ask if you add that a patient retains only 10% of any conversation.  Heck, I know some doctors who would consider being recorded as the proof of what their Mothers always told or treated them as - that they were indeed the "Second Coming," if not the "Original."  Actually, I'd probably run in the opposite direction if I saw that attitude!
• And as with all things, trust your instincts!  If you think something is off, question it or ask for someone else to see you.  Talk to the charge nurse or whoever is in a position of responsibility for the ER running smoothly.  This is something I never for a moment considered doing, being so sure the system is correct and was shocked when I heard my daughter doing so - and she was so right!  Don't start a "p*ssing contest" or wait until things get too out of hand and no one will be able to unravel the mess.  On the other hand, don't complain if you don't like the color of your doctor's shirt, either.  Don't forget how difficult we are to treat.  But if the doctor starts putting you in the psychiatric or psychological wastebasket, it may be time to see if things can't be changed.  So, if things are off, when the little hairs on the back of your head stand up, THEN quietly ask for someone in charge.  And don't forget that you catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar!  
• One final warning, to be used sparingly.  If the ER is stalling to get you to the back rooms, you may have to do some creative thinking.  Our daughter was told to be rushed to the ER at the "major medical center" and that from there she would be taken straight to the floor that dealt with her health problems.  Because time was of the essence we were there in less than 3 hours, "flying" the entire way.  We then proceeded to wait for 4 hours to have her seen.  Attitude was horrid by all personnel, especially in an empty ER.  Later other patients arrived and left.  Nothing we said would help, including begging them to call where her doctors were waiting for her.  We should have called an ambulance to drive her to the ER but because she was in such grave danger, we felt we couldn't wait for the ambulance.  I was about to go outside and call for an ambulance, but an ambulance is not allowed to come within x-amount of space of a hospital for legal reasons (more like "agreed upon reasons," if you ask people in the know who will "talk").  So, if you have a critical condition and drive yourself to the hospital, you are doing yourself a disservice.  The wait almost killed my daughter (you should have seen the dropping of everything once they looked at my daughter and how many doctors were suddenly working on her as the word, "lawsuit," was obvious on everyone's face).  Because of this wait, it caused her to stay in the hospital an extra two weeks, making us eat the worst yet best Thanksgiving dinner around her bed, cringing at the food, yet oh so happy she was alive.  However, she then had complications for the next year which may very well have stemmed from this unforgivable delay.  

And on that note, I wish everyone a wonderful weekend with all feeling their very best, only better!  Ciao and paka!

CC Creams: the Newest Kid on the Block

Well, bless my soul!  I couldn't believe it when I read that there is a "new kid" on the cosmetics' block, with ten new additional ones becoming available in the next week or so - or so rumor by the beauty industry has it.  What caught my attention is the name: get this, it's a CC cream,  after the name "Color Correction Cream," "Color Control Cream," or as Chanel calls it, a "Complete Correction Cream"!  (Well, La di da!)  Already the cosmetics world is having fun with all the puns about CC creams vs BB creams.  It sounds as if these CC cream will be telling the BB creams  (Blemish Balm creams, among other "names") to move over or to even just disappear.  Gosh!  Why do I suddenly feel as if I'm in the midst of a school yard brawl or a bad episode of "Sesame Street"?

I first wrote a review on BB creams here  in March and then in April (link) because they just seemed like such a great pairing with the person who has CFIDS/ME/CFS and fibromyalgia or anyone with illnesses who might experience skin problems.  Honestly, sometimes I feel as if all you need to do is look at us cross-eyed and our skin breaks out with strange rashes and/or hives.  At any rate, I tried out at least six or seven of them and kept coming back to the original one I'd liked.  Since the problems I (as well as others) encountered seemed to stem from the silicone and either how much was in the BB cream or how it was formulated, in September I wrote yet another review on one BB cream without silicone, see the Omorovitzsa link here.   And yes, the experimentation was as time-consuming as it sounds.

However,  I'm even more ecstatic about the promise of the CC Cream - fool that I am?  We'll see: I very well could be!   On the other hand, just think of all the steps "we" can save if we start using the CC cream - thus using up fewer "health credits" or "spoons."  If it proves to be as effective as it claims to be, it may end up - like the BB cream - taking the place of moisturizer, SPF, color and whichever treatments (as in plural) you feel you need, such as:

• help with those pesky wrinkles
• anti-aging properties (including green and white tea, of course, with the Asian products)
• treating hyper-pigmentation
• claims of being light-weight despite better coverage
• higher broad-spectrum SPFs (up to SPF 35 PA++)
• will work to brighen skin

My personal favorite BB cream became the Dr. Jart+ and has remained so, after having unpleasant reactions to quite a few others I tried - with hubby always asking, "are you experimenting with that crud again?" as I, in turn, deny all connection to any experimentation - "what, who, me?" 

So why in the world would companies now spend money on delivering us a new cream, that of the CC?  Hopefully, it won't be because of the same sort of reasoning that gave us the new Coke.  Until so many people in the entire world went ballistic, writing Coke (angry) letters and stockpiling all the old Coke that could be found, Coke then had to change back to the original but with a new name, "Coke Classic," in order to emphasize that they were back to the formula everyone wanted - in order to not lose anymore consumers!  However, if the CC's do as they claim, this could be a real boost to the consumer - not to mention the bottom dollar of the companies making these new CC's.  In fact, I think that it's time for the CC creams in that every company is now making their own BB cream and only a fraction of them, it seems, can legitimately be called BB creams.  Oh how I hope that this doesn't happen with the CC's.

But another reason as to why it's time for the CC?   So many consumers and makeup artist have complained about the limited availability of color and have wanted a larger and better selection of color.  Supposedly, they will now have it - somewhat.  The color variety is not as extensive as some have called for but the color supposedly works itself into the skin so well that the pigmentation won't be such a problem: reading between the lines, I should say, the pigmentation won't be as MUCH of a problem.

Furthermore, the CC creams will now also have remarkable powers to even and brighten the skin.  Furthermore, whereas many beauty editors and makeup artists found problems with the BB creams in terms of texture, feeling like they had too much silicone which made them just too oily and silicone-like on the face, the CC's have corrected this problems too (apparently) and will have a lighter texture.  (We shall see!)  I only hope that these are not yet more empty promises.

Some of the CC's will be more liquidy than others.  I'm hearing that the Olay's "Total Effects Tone Correcting UV Moisturizer" is just a repackaged version of their old BB cream, and is more souped up like a primer, whereas others will have more coverage.  In the the case of the Asian CC creams, the CC creams were developed there and have been in use for a while.  In other words, it'll depend on which you try and which will address your own personal needs.  The Singaporean brand "Rachel K" is getting great press, especially since it has so many goodies, such as "epidermal growth factor, which stimulates collagen production by speeding up your skin's natural exfoliation."  Exfoliation?  Be still my heart!  (Oh dear son and daughter-in-law: Christmas presents?)  I DO know that I'm running right to Chanel's version, which was also developed in Asia, as I do not want to mess up my face any further than the last few months have managed to do so on its very own, thank you very much, so I'm going to the company that I think will most agree with my skin, that Holy Grail: of course, Chanel.

With more treatments (for wrinkles, pores, etc.) added as well as antioxidants, not to mention the color improvement (I felt that that most of the old ones simply sat on your face too much, like a mask), I can't wait to get my hands on them.  Now WHY didn't the Chanel lady at the airport in Malaysia tell me about them?  (Kidding, I think!)

Here's to everyone feeling the very best they can, only better.  Caio and paka!