Back to School

I was of two minds going back to school. The first was like Peter Pan and his shadow.

“If he thought at all, but I don’t believe he ever thought, it was that he and his shadow, when brought near each other, would join like drops of water, and when they did not he was appalled.”

I would slip back into the rhythm of school, with its percussion section of tests and deadlines rattling away, and the music of learning would enchant me as it always did. My department would once again feel like home – a sort of chaotic, dysfunctional home at times perhaps, but home nevertheless. Oh, there might be a few changes, but once I was back into the swing of teaching and studying and tutoring, I would be back.

I tried not to let the other bit of my mind have too much air time, because it wasn’t particularly concerned with “thinking” either. Instead that bit of my brain tried to shake and worry the details of my return like a puppy with a rag – should I tell my students? What about my bosses? How was I going to manage to lecture when I couldn’t always stand? How was I going to keep medications close by and manage to take them at the right time when I was running back and forth to jobs and class and meetings? When would I get a chance to rest? Would there be someplace private at school I could rest, if I had to?

Still, most of those thoughts, such as they were, were about details. Minutiae. I’d get it figured out in the first few weeks, I told myself. There was no reason to think that I and school wouldn’t eventually join up like two drops of water.

Instead, I sank like a stone. It wasn’t two drops of water, seamlessly blending together. It was like being underwater and staring at pool toys on the surface, all bright colors and cheerfulness bobbing away out of arm’s reach. The other students all have lives, problems, and dreams, the same as I do, but college convention dictates you discuss the trivial.

“Why didn’t they give me a fork with the salad?” “I don’t think the professor will like my title.” “I have to prepare for a meeting with my advisor! I’m so nervous!” “It’s such a long walk over to the big library, so maybe I’ll order the book and have it delivered…”

It wasn’t that I didn’t care about those people, and by extension (some of) their problems. Especially since I knew a couple of my fellow students well enough to know that actually there were other bigger, much more terrible things going on in their lives, too. But at school that wasn’t part of the picture, and everything became just so terribly remote. I floated in the darkness below the flotsam of normal life. Sometimes it was peaceful, realizing that I didn’t really care that much anymore what a professor thought of my paper title, or if my notes were perfectly in order before a meeting. Other times I felt like I was drowning, trapped below the surface and riding much colder currents of terror and pain while the top at least looked comparatively placid. While the others wondered about forks for their lunch, I wondered if I’d go into anaphylaxis as my skin began to burn and my throat itch. They thought about the inconvenience of a long walk to the library, and I thought about joint hypermobility and if I’d be able to walk at all. I felt fresh out of trivial.

The adrenaline-fueled race to grab knowledge, keeping so busy that I danced on the edge of losing it – well, that joy feels a bit more fleeting and muted. The joy of being able to keep breathing or to eat without being sick feels much more immediate in comparison. When it’s not my body that’s pulling me apart, it’s my mind. The research I was doing before would enrich human lives, reclaim a lost part of history, and help explain how a part of society functioned. The medical research I do now, wading through dozens of scholarly articles while simultaneously playing catch-up from an education designed to prepare me for the performing arts instead of science, might save my life tomorrow, or someone else’s in a week. They’re both exciting in their own way, and I love both. And right now, my body still doesn’t have the capability to allow me to thoroughly dive into either.

I know because I tried to do both, sort of … to be the old graduate student me. I told myself that if I wanted to slip back into this world, I just needed to do what I did before. Fake it until you make it, right? I faked it for a week. I didn’t know that old habits would be so destructive, though, perhaps because they weren’t before. I went into anaphylaxis, fought off a cold, got physically ill, locked myself out of my apartment and my car, and slept for 12 hours straight when I made it to the weekend. I still missed 3 deadlines although they weren’t critical. Clearly I still have much to learn at college … and it looks like one of the biggest lessons of the term is going to be how to listen to my body but still keep my mind alive and my program’s requirements met.


 

 

 

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Traveling with POTS, V

Two words. Checked bags.

Except for medications and whatnot, of course. Which, let’s face it, probably fill your carry-on and/or personal item anyway. Spring for a snazzy carry-on to make the fact that you’re carrying enough medications for an old folk’s home more palatable, and consign the heavy stuff to the tender loving care of the airline.

 

Eating on Vacation, part 2

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Victory came in the form of a golden brown oblong. Bread. Real bread.

Tests results and a trial elimination diet showed that gluten wasn’t my problem. However, milk and eggs provoked all kinds of symptoms. I was told that food intolerances could wax and wane. I also found out that dairy and uncoooked egg whites could be triggers for histamine release. We decided it would be best for me to avoid dairy and eggs for several more months. The only bread I could find quickly while I was at school was Energ-G’s line of allergy-friendly breads. Tapioca bread quickly became a favorite, especially toasted with almond butter.

Problem: on vacation, there wasn’t any Ener-G bread in any of the grocery stores in my rather more country hometown.

In flew my mom in a super-hero apron cape dusted with flour. She whipped up a batch of French bread without eggs or milk.

The recipe below calls for 1 tablespoon of butter. But you can substitute in a safe oil/ fat. We did one a version with olive oil and double the whole wheat. It was a little denser and more chewy than your typical French bread, but very tasty.  It bakes at a high temp and we also tried a version with all the butter, and thankfully it didn’t seem to trigger anything. This site has a lot of substitutions for baking that I’ve used before: https://delishably.com/dairy/Substitutes-for-Butter-in-Baking.

FRENCH BREAD

2 packages active dry yeast

2 1/2 cups warm water (105°-115° F)

1 tablespoon salt

1 tablespoon butter or margarine, melted*

7 cups all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons cornmeal

1 egg white and 1 tablespoon cold water, for egg wash*

Instructions: Dissolve yeast in warm water in warmed mixing bowl. Add salt, butter substitute, and flour. Attach bowl and dough hook to mixer, and mix/ knead on medium-low speed for about 3 minutes. Dough will be sticky.

Place dough in a greased bowl (olive oil or a non-dairy substitute like Earth-Balance is cool, just so it doesn’t stick). Turn to grease top. Cover. Let rise in a warm place, free from drafts, about 1 hour and/or until doubled in bulk.

Punch dough down and divide in half. Roll each half into a 12×15 inch rectangle. Roll dough tightly from longest side, tapering ends if you want. Place loaves on greased baking sheet that have been dusted with cornmeal (ditto greasing with a dairy substitute. I’m not allergic to corn but I imagine if it’s not a good idea for you but a slightly crunchy, gritty base is still desired, Cream of Rice cereal could work. We’ve run out of cornmeal and the bread came off the sheets just fine without anything but “butter.”)

Cover bread. Let rise in warm place with no drafts until doubled in bulk (about 1 hour).

With sharp knife, make 3-4 diagonal cuts on top of each loaf.

Bake at 450° F for 25-30 minutes. Remove from oven. If doing egg wash – which we skipped – beat egg white and water together with form and brush over top of each loaf; bake for 5 minutes longer. Bread will make a nice hollow knocking sound when done.

Remove from baking sheets and cool on wire racks.

Should yield ~ 30 slices, give or take.