Covid-19: aftermath

I am thinking about the roaring twenties a lot. I think people went a little nuts, not because of the war, but because they had difficulty being emotionally honest about the influenza pandemic. I think we humans will do it again to forget the deaths, to go into denial, to refuse to grieve.

Yes, that is my prediction.

Be very quiet, I am hunting wabbits.

Be careful in our future roaring twenties. Money will flow like honey and people will go nuts. Hold fast, hunker down, don’t go out without your macintosh, wear clean underwear. Remember what your mother told you, remember what your father tells you. Because that was followed by the Depression and that is one risk.

I don’t know if it will start this spring or next spring. Ok, I AM hoping that my son and future daughter-in-law can get married in early May, since they’ve put it off for two years. But. The 1918-19 influenza was really three years, not two. It tailed off. Half the people in the world got it. In Samoa, half the adults died, or was it 70%? They had little exposure to infection but a ship brought it. They KNEW they were high risk, but a sailor didn’t know he was sick yet.

Why a roaring twenties? Because we want to forget this pandemic, as the last one was forgotten. Our history books say that the Roaring Twenties was about the end of World War I. We teach lots about that. We barely mention the influenza world pandemic. I am reading a book about the 1918-19 influenza pandemic published in 2018. The author says that it is only now, 100 years later, that we are starting to really tell the stories of that pandemic. She gathers stories from all over the world, including stores of different infection control strategies in two cities. One guessed right and one guessed wrong, and in the wrong one, way more people died.

I read about that 1918-19 pandemic after influenza nearly killed me in 2003. I was 42, healthy, a physician, a mother, an athlete. I had NO risk factors except stress. Now it looks like it was a PANS reaction, but at the time, neither my doctor nor I could figure out why I was short of breath and tachycardic walking across a room for two months. Fatigue, chest pain, tachycardia, shortness of breath. Hmmm, what does that sound like? My partners thought I was faking and I was so sick that I could barely communicate. The stresses were my mother dying of ovarian cancer in May 2000 and my marriage being pretty on the rocks and me working way too hard. My psychiatrist said I should take time off. I said, I can’t. He said, you’d better. Then I got flu. “See?” he said. The body decides, not the conscious brain. He was correct, damn him.

The book I read in 2004 looked dry and medical from the outside. It had pages and pages of footnotes. It had photographs of Los Angeles. They knew the influenza was coming towards them like a wave and they tried to get ready. Bodies under sheets were stacked five deep in the hallways of the hospitals. It hit that fast. People, usually age 20-50, turned blue and fell over dead. WHY? It was the immune response. The 20-50 year olds had a better immune response than the 50 and older and their lungs would swell until there was no airspace left. Even then, that pandemic death rate was only 1-2 % in the US. But it was so fast and spread so quickly that everything was disrupted because it was the workers that were deathly ill and at home and there was no one to work.

People wore masks in public, except for the mask refusers, but not in their homes. So entire families would get ill. I don’t think they had figured out viral loads yet. If you are the last one standing, and you are trying to take care of a spouse and six children, you were high risk from viral load and exhaustion.

The Roaring Twenties WAS a way to grieve, it’s just a dysfunctional one. The stages of grief: denial, bargaining, anger, grief and acceptance. My sister said that acting out and revenge ought to be added as stages of grief. She died of breast cancer after fighting it for 8 years. Roaring is denial and bargaining and acting out and revenge, all at once. Everyone grieves differently, remember that. There is not an order to the stages of grief and you don’t do them once. You do them over and over and over.

I am a Cheerful Charlie, right?

War is one way to forget/deny/act out. Let’s not do that. Let’s not have a civil war of forgetfulness and denial.

Let us remember clearly and lean on each other.

Playing for change: lean on me

I think this fits the Ragtag Daily Prompt: inflammable.

My sister’s blog: https://e2grundoon.blogspot.com/2009/01/chemo-not-in-vain.html . She died on March 29, 2012. The start of the blog is here: https://e2grundoon.blogspot.com/2002/02/ .

Blessings.

______________

I got Cheerful Charlie from Pogo comics: read the Albert Alligator section. https://comicstrips.fandom.com/wiki/List_of_Pogo_characters
More recently, Downton Abby used Cheerful Charlie. https://downtonabbey.fandom.com/wiki/The_Cheerful_Charlies

small child

You work at healing
For years

You dive in the swamp
Of your psyche
Turn over the mud
Tunnel through it
Breath it
See lilies arise
From the muck

The Beloved is a deer
Dainty hooves
In the swamp

At last you come
To bedrock

So you rest
Bedrock
You think

Until you notice
A chink in the rock
You look away
You avoid it

At last you look
It isn’t going away

The Beloved is a bittern
In the reeds

Fluid leaks
From the chink

Foul black bilious
Acidic
Burning holes in the slanted rock
Again you look away
But not for long

You step forward
Touch the rock

I am present you say
Who is there?

The stream of foul black
Increases
Pours from a widening crack

Beloved is a tiger
Paw against the rock

You see the acid burning
Her paw
But she does not run
She stands guard

Who are you?
You whisper

The rock crumbles

There is a child

Go away” says the child
Ancient

No you say
Beloved and I
Stay present

The black is swirling around you
It’s hard to keep your footing
Beloved, an orca
Steadies you, swimming

No one stays says the child

We stay present you say

I was born I loved I was abandoned When I was afraid

We are present now you say
Swimming by the Beloved
Hand on black fin

I was abandoned When I grieved

We are here now you say

I was abandoned In my despair

We are here you say

You say
You fought
Out of love
You argued
Out of love
You gave
Out of love
Please child
Let us cradle you

The child is silent

The tide is slowing
The rock has crumbled away
A trickle of clear water bubbles

You will stay? says the child

We stay you say

Beloved is a whale
Singing in space
Singing to the stars

Am I lovable? says the child

You and Beloved
Earth and sky
Wind and trees
Moon and stars
Answer yes

Am I loved?

Yes
Yes

8/27/2007

mask up

Care for your family and friends and community. Mask up and do the best you can not to get nor give Covid-19 this season. The winter is dark but the sun will start returning to us soon. Like the seeds in the ground and the trees with no leaves, we can get through this dark season caring for each other.

adaptive theory of PANS/PANDAS

This is my working theory on PANS/PANDAS. Pediatric autoimmune neuropsychiatric syndrome/Pediatric autoimmune neuropsychiatric disorders associated with Strep A.

Four or more antibodies. The antibodies can take different patterns in different people.

  1. Antibodies to dopamine 1 and dopamine 2 receptors.

The antibodies are like keys fitting in a lock. The key may fit in the lock and BLOCK or fit in the lock and OPEN IT. So, there are a very large number of patterns that could arise from this, especially when we remember the rat neuron with 300 different receptors for serotonin in one neuron. Think of the possibilities here.

If this antibody BLOCKS, an ANTAGONIST, it will cause slowing/brain fog/depression/and I don’t know what all.

If this antibody is an AGONIST and the key turns, it apparently can cause mania, ADHD, OCD, oppositional defiance, clinginess, separation anxiety, anxiety, etc.

We do not know what causes psychiatric disorders. Now we have a category called neuropsychiatric, where it is caused by an antibody. Or antibodies. What percentage of psychiatric disorders are caused by this? I am betting high rather than low.

  1. Antibodies to tubulin.

If the antibody is an ANTAGONIST, blocking, then slow or fast twitch muscles won’t function correctly. It could block both. I think if it blocks both, that is the severe lie in bed chronic fatigue. I have trouble with my fast twitch muscles but my slow twitch ones work just fine.

If the antibody is an AGONIST, you get some super athletes. I know a number of people that I would suspect fall into this category. I can name five off the top of my head, friends.

  1. Antibodies to lysoganglioside.

This one worries me. Lysogangliosides lyse ganglions. These antibodies are used in soap making, among other things. They break down fatty cell walls.

When I have a high antibody level, I have trouble eating any carbohydrates. As I improve, I have trouble mostly with sucrose, fructose and gluten but not lactose. Also, when I eat gluten, I get acidic. When you get acidic, your body tries to compensate by slowing your breathing to hold on to CO2, because you need to balance the acid H+ with a base, OH-. So: triple whammy. Acidic I automatically breathe slower, which is not helpful when I am already hypoxic and tachycardic.

I have not figured out whether my antibody is an agonist or antagonist.

An agonist would lyse more ganglions. This could be bad for the brain and for peripheral nerves. Neuropathy and dementia.

An antagonist would stop ganglion lysing. Um, in theory, cancer. Lysogangliosides are supposed to clear out bad cells.My guess is that I have an antagonist because of the family history. At least, on my mother’s and sister’s side. My father smoked two packs of Camels for 55 years and did not get cancer: tough bugger, right? Or did he have an Agonist? This line of thinking makes me very highly motivated to eat in whatever way the antibodies want me to. I do not understand why gluten would trigger this and why the gluten effect in me lasts longer than the fructose and sucrose effect. Gluten intolerance and other gut problems are on the rise and this would certainly explain that. This is the cause of at least some fibromyalgia patterns. Not only does eating gluten screw up my breathing, but it makes any muscle that I have used recently hurt like hell. I ate some meatballs without reading the stupid package back in April. Two hours of chest wall muscle pain and honestly, heart pain. I dug the package out and duh: bread crumbs. Gol dang it, I hate it when I am stupid. However, it hurts like hell but at it’s worst I had normal cardiac enzymes and no heart attack. Weird.

Ok, but WAIT, you said ADAPTIVE. How can this nightmare be adaptive?

Sure, adaptive. Remember the back up system for when we are starving? We switch from metabolizing glucose to metabolizing protein and fats, our own if necessary. We go from glycogen metabolism to protein/fat metabolism which produces ketones.

This is the crisis shit hits the fan emotionally and in plagues system.

So, can be caused by stress or infection or a combination.

Why why why?

Because if the stress gets too high or the infection gets too bad, our body switches gears and runs a back up system. I’ve thought of chronic fatigue as some sort of switch the body throws for years, because it’s the hypercrazy work too hard workaholic Type A people who get it. Type B people do not get it or don’t notice or don’t care. Type B people just say, wow, I’m tired, I think I will rest. The Type A people flip out and say “Put me back like I was!!!!” and then they go to 47 doctors and refuse to do anything the doctors say and do internet research and see any kind of quack you can imagine and they are the most exhausting patients.

Why the psychiatric stuff? Ok, take mania. If there is plague or you are in a really dangerous abusive situation, mania suddenly makes sense. Overnight you are different and what’s more, it scares the hell out of everyone. You are shunned. You are alone. You may get thrown out of a job, family, friend group or all of the above. This would tend to protect you against both plague and the really dangerous abusive situation. Whether you like it or not.

And how clever of the brain/body. Here is a back up system. It changes at least four systems, so you are now a different person. You freak your employer, friends and family out. AND you are sick as shit and they won’t listen. You have to get out and go elsewhere for help or hide in your castle or house or whatever. You can’t move or you have super muscles. And every single person has a different pattern.

I look at the long haul covid. The most common symptoms are psychiatric, shortness of breath and fatigue. Sound familiar?

Now, will someone PLEASE fund my NIH west?

_________________________________________________________

Guidelines for treating PANS/PANDAS: https://www.pandasppn.org/jcap2017/

werewolf

Time out word warning, in this poem. This poem is about discrimination. Substitute practically anything for werewolf…. disabled, bipolar, depressed, autistic, substance abuser. I am sick of discrimination. For human, substitute “normal”.

You know I’ve been a werewolf my whole life

Started in the womb
triggered by antibodies
to tuberculosis

And I am tired

of people telling me

I’m a werewolf.

Ok? I fucking know that.
I have known it since Kindergarten
where I arrived full of joy
ready to sing

and was shunned

we didn’t have a television

but I knew that wasn’t really it
I was different
I am different

and fuck you humans
different is ok.

I am a werewolf
and I am fucking proud
of all I have accomplished
in the teeth of humans hating me
and trying to shut me down
and shunning me
and reporting me
and doing everything short of shooting me
with real guns

I’ve been told to sit down
shut up
stop arguing
be nice
be good
go away
die
don’t read my writeups
don’t C! my work
don’t talk to me
stop making waves
been fired
been reported
been shunned
been alone

and fuck you humans

get ready
because I am middle aged now
for a werewolf
and I am ready

to be one all the timee

damn the torpedoes
full speed ahead
fuck you humans
for how you’ve treated me

I’ve turned the other cheek
for sixty years

and now
I
will
fight

released like stars

I have had strep A sepsis and pneumonia twice. It was terrifying and I ended up having to take care of myself. I would be dead if I was not a physician.

Everything2.com helped to sustain me, because it was a place I could go while I was alone, terrified and very very ill. The bout in 2014 took me out of clinic for six months and then I was barely able to work seeing half my usual number of patients. My local hospital refused to help me, but other people did. I am deeply deeply grateful to the people who did help me, including people on everything2.com that I have never met.

I wrote this in June 2014.

released like stars

________________

My sister used to tell me

“Everything2 is like a brain.

That’s what attracted me.

All the nodes, like neurons

Connected to each other more and more.”

Or something like that.


Isn’t it annoying?

Now that I’ve taken that memory out

Dusted it off

Embellished it

Who knows what she really said


Flashes of light now

And some where I blank out entirely

For just a moment

Only when I’ve eaten

I’m still avoiding carbs


Could be absence seizures

But she said seizures hurt

These do not hurt

And are accompanied by muscle twitches

Or muscles rolling gently across my frame


I am scared at first

Because I think they are neurons

Bursting into brain flame

And burning out

Brief candles


But I don’t think that’s right either

I think it is plaques

Deposits of antibody

Small pushpins in the wrong place

Being released like stars

Feathers

This is the final poem in my Falling Angels Dream Poetry series.

Some people say there are

Angels among us

I have faith in birds
I search for a nest
Hummingbird nest
the size of a nut
tiny, lined with spiderwebs
I love the herons too
great blue heron
flying lands in a tree
above me
I look through my mechanical eye
zoom in click click
and there is another
at the tree top
two in a tree
I move around
and there – one drops down
one flies
I am not distracted
a nest
a six foot nest
blessed
I move away gently

I wander back by the tree
gently
in the morning
in the evening
not one
not two
two in this tree
two in that
one in another
as many as five in a tree
six foot wing spans
a rookery of winged beings

angels among us
and why would we think
they would look like us?

ring

I dream a night sky thick with stars

all the stars start falling

I think “That isn’t good.”
sore afraid

all the stars are angels falling

I think “That isn’t good.”
sore afraid

an angel falls close past me
in space
face at perfect peace

I think “Why do they fall?”
sore afraid

I am falling in space
head down
no earth beneath me
with the angels

crying, imperfect acceptance
sore afraid

I wake
I put the dream away

it comes back
in a decade

I write about wings
sore afraid

I try to understand
sore afraid

I am asked what my small self
my child self
wants

wings

I say yes
no longer
sore afraid

did you hear the bell?

yes

hold me

poem: hold me

hold me, Beloved

hold me
I long for you
to be reunited with you, Beloved

to return to you

it is the children who hold me

here

the children
my children, grown
the hope of grandchildren
the damaged children
the new and young children
the old children in adults
who are so sad

it is the children who hold me

here

sometimes I am so sad, Beloved
I long for you

I do and I don’t
long for you
to call me home
and hold me

I know
that you hold me, Beloved
every moment

even when I cannot feel your touch

I know, Beloved
you will call me home

and hold me
now and forever
in your infinite embrace

Straddle this place

Straddle this place, where we look at history again and again, admit horror and mistakes and cruelty, and work together to build a future.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: straddle.