Communities At War

I made a presentation at my Homesteading/Preppers group last week on nutrition and health/lifestyle.  It was a fun event for me, getting to share a little about what I have learned in the past few years.

I added a special slide in my powerpoint at the very end, however, with a picture of the Mexican Standoff in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.  Point being: I am not joining the Nutrition vs. Medical WAR that is currently happening.

That’s right.  There is a WAR, if you haven’t figured it out already.  In fact, it goes on with all things medical as far as I can figure.  Hospital vs. Home/Natural Birth, Vitamins, and Immunizations are other areas where I have unwittingly stepped on a few land mines in conversations online and off, in the doctor’s office and with family/friends.

It turns out that both sides are standing behind their relative barricades, pointing fingers and screaming “You’re lying!  You’re wrong!” to the other side.  Anyone in the middle, undecided or just trying to do a blend of both sides, has to watch out, ‘cuz they’ll get pointed at and screamed at, too.  It all turns political and very heavy-handed when people aren’t being thoughtful.

The truth is, my husband and I plan to do a hybrid of the two — with a heavy dose of Jesus in the middle of all of it.  Our trust is not in man alone, doctors or nutritionists, but in the Creator of both sides and the only One who can help us pull back and make the choice that is best for us.

With Conn’s Syndrome, my adrenal gland presents a particularly tricky situation.  Unlike Adrenal Fatigue, a disease has caused my gland to overproduce one particular hormone.  I have a tiny little bump or growth, tumor or nodule, however you want to call it, that nutrition might be able to help me manage but will not cure.  In fact, nutrition has gone so far as to help me daily with my blood pressure and overall health far better than the medicinal management we tried last year.  However, my BP stays far higher than it should and the hyper-production of aldosterone continues to ravage my life.

So, it seems as though surgery is the best option.  What I left to the last, will (this time) take center stage.  I have explored doing a partial adrenalectomy, or asking the surgeon to simply chip off the nodule.  These might seem to be good options, but the main thing I have picked up on in studies accessible to me is that some adrenals that are fully removed show further disease once they are studied post-operation.

It is so rare to find two diseased adrenals that this is usually not a concern.  And for me the option of having my BP return to normal (as is the usual outcome) as well as my overall stamina/health for my family’s sake… far outweigh the negatives of losing my adrenal and maintaining my nutritional choices for the sake of my other adrenal.  I was concerned about guarding against adrenal insufficiency, but again from what I have read this usually occurs when people do not have even one properly functioning adrenal… it’s a totally different issue than Conn’s.

So… I have tried maintaining my health on my own, and for me it has not worked.  Maybe others could find a trick and I would love to hear about it here, even if I did not get the chance to try it.

It is interesting to me, overall, how much time it might have saved me if any one of the doctors I have met would have stopped to help me understand the full picture instead of trying to strong-arm me into surgery without fully understanding why.  I wonder if any of them even know enough about Conn’s to do this.  It remains a simple “I read that for Conn’s you do surgery” and they expect their patients to agree/submit to that.  Questions are a waste of their time.

So, it is up to US to really do the footwork and read, read, read to figure out WHY we would do what they suggest  (which can be tricky to do when you are already not feeling great and other things/little people need your attention).  It’s all about Informed Consent.  If you expect the doctor to do the explaining you are barking up the wrong tree, unfortunately.

Another guarding factor I have uncovered is, when working with doctors, it really helps not to disclose the Nutritional side of things.  A kind doctor friend explained in a private conversation that it’s best to say “I’d like to treat this conservatively, and avoid surgery if possible.”  So sad, but true… until Judgement Day we may never have a world where the yin/yang of
Science/Bible or Nutrition/Medicine can meet.  I’d argue that this is due to the meddling of the enemy of our souls.  Far too much good would come by those combinations, but that’s another story for another day… that’s my Christian two cents.  (wink)

Blessings to you, wherever you are on your road!  Let me know how you are doing and how I can pray for you today.


My Monster Story

I am asleep when I see the monster the second time.

She remained placid as my family descended into a dusty basement with shabby stairs.  She had something to show them, she said.  Her salivating malevolence was held in check until she had them — Trapped.  Doomed.  Screaming.

Part of me, the real me, was an inactive partner hung on the wall.  I watched in confusion and horror as this ravenous zombie emerged and made a big mess of the people who I loved.

Momentarily, my dream fast-forwarded and I was myself again.  Days later; fuzziness gone… I was home from a hospital stay (with frightening memories of being in a straitjacket).   No one knew why I could not account for the monster or the massacre.

My mother, my brother, and a panicky, wild-eyed cat were all that remained, and they did not — could not — trust me.

Police lined the streets outside, ready to take me down if I tried anything again.

I wake up in a solid sweat; it is 6:15 in the morning.  Tears pound up from the depths of my gut and my wretched body lurches to the bathroom, only to sense that the evil monster is not only a dreamlike companion.

She is real, at least in the spiritual sense.  She wants to take me over, but she is not winning, and she hates me for it.  She stands heavily in the hallway as I pee forever into the commode…. horrid and uncomfortable side-effect of Spironolactone medicine… for Conn’s Syndrome.

Is that all I have?   Truly?  One disease, or one possible tumor…. or is it more than just that?  She makes it clear.

Don’t jump ahead of me.  I am not haunted.  I am not possessed.


My family is under attack.  And I must take a step to fight this morning.  First, to rid myself and my home of this sickening horror that is suddenly hovering.

“Get out of here, In Jesus’ Name.”  I actually speak out loud.

She stares lustfully and violently at me for a moment, but then she turns…. and obeys under the Power that assists me… and she walks out of my home.  She is not to return if I have anything to say about it.

“Lord, fill this house with your love, your light, and your peace.  Cover me Lord.  Cover my family.  Protect us, God.”

I refuse to stop fighting… for my family, for my body, and for my peaceful home every day.

She does not define me.

I hate that damage is done.  I hurt that my life has become less structured, more organized by energy slots and holding hands with those who can understand and help a bit here or there.  Frustrated by a light “at the end of the tunnel,” not here yet.  I despise that my children and husband are exposed to this… a disease that makes me a tired mommy, an uninterested partner in life.  Disheartened at  losing my temper and seeing my child be mad at doctors for taking my blood so many times.  I dislike watching “Special Agent Oso” and not doing a fun activity.  I am heartbroken over our finances, which worsen along with one tiny little monstrous thing manifested in my center.  Devastated to realize just how long I have lived with the symptoms, as well as the guilt, fear, self-manipulation, and anger that it fostered into my daily life.


I thank God for bringing this issue to light; for giving us good doctors, and for giving us the wisdom to fire the bad ones.  I am thankful that we had paid off so much debt already; this will not sink us.  Thank You, God, for providing help from friends new and old.  Thank You for a church that believes in prayer; for the comfort of a hand on my shoulder and the counsel of those who have walked similar roads.  Thank You God for a husband that has become so supportive; a distracting job on the side; the supernatural energy to help others.  I will celebrate every little thing I can.

Life was not originally designed to be so painful.  All of our lives, at this very moment, are truly about Someone far greater and the war being waged against Him daily… and against those who even think of following Him.

I do not desire to run away from the battle.


“God!  Help me, help me, help me!  Thank you, thank you, thank you.” — Joyce Meyer


Job 1:18-22

The Message (MSG)

While he was still talking, another messenger arrived and said, “Your children were having a party at the home of the oldest brother when a tornado swept in off the desert and struck the house. It collapsed on the young people and they died. I’m the only one to get out alive and tell you what happened.”  Job got to his feet, ripped his robe, shaved his head, then fell to the ground and worshiped: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, naked I’ll return to the womb of the earth. God gives, God takes.  God’s name be ever blessed.”  Not once through all this did Job sin; not once did he blame God.