The Diarrhea Worshipers of Pensacola

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. In case there was any question, this is not for children. Okay? Thanks.

Hopefully this has been day seven in what’s certainly been an interesting week. Started off last Tuesday (as if anything starts off when we think it does) with two intense asthma attacks, the second of which landed us in the emergency room at 10pm. Rivka had never experienced trick-or-treating and our three year old walking around having strangers drop factory-processed candy into her bucket - they do a thing here in town on the 30th for some reason - had her uneasy. The orthodox Jews didn’t celebrate Halloween. The specter of  “superstorm sandy” was also looming and it all served to emphasize Rivka’s nearly complete separation from her family and culture of origin.

Well! Speaking of control issues, there was a nurse - “the clown”, Rivka called her not because of any costume but because of the amount of make-up she was plastered with just to look womanly - who took it personally that… Let’s back up a little.

We had hoped a hot herbal bath would help, but breathing wasn’t getting much easier and her chest had the boney, protruding look that comes from struggling for breath. We figured better to load the kids up and hit the E.R. now than at 3AM. Rivka ran in while I parked the car and brought Rinah and Ashirah. The woman at the desk was expecting me and we expected to head back soon. After a while though, bopping a tired, hungry, fussy five-month-old Ashirah I knocked on the window to ask what was going on and when the attendant returned from checking he informed me that they wouldn’t let me in until she had seen a doctor. “That could be hours, man!?!”

Fortunately just minutes later another guy - maybe an EMT or something came out from a different door and lead us in to where Rivka was - standing in the hallway with a nurse, who proceeded to begin telling us we couldn’t come in. This nurse wasn’t (as it turns out) the “clown”, and - following Rivka forcibly wheeling the stroller (with Rinah) into her little curtained room - we finally got settled in and Rivka explained what had kept us in the waiting room. Apparently she had been checked right in and given a nebulizer (a device used to administer medication in the form of a mist inhaled into the lungs), which stabilized her breathing, and she didn’t want to be set up with an IV without seeing a doctor first or at least having her husband present because she didn’t want to make any fear-based decisions. And she wanted her breast-fed baby with her while they awaited a doctor. Well this pissed Karen the clown off and even though there were other attendants who wanted to go get us, she was insisting we couldn’t come in until who-the-hell-knows-what. So things escalated to the point where she was trying to push Rivka back into the room and Rivka grabbed her shirt collar with both hands and pulled it down to her belly screaming, “I am a breast-feeding mother”, which apparently got the attention of the guy who said, “enough of this”, and let us in.

She soon got a steroid in the ass from an understanding PA and we were home by midnight. And that was the end of day one. Wednesday was relatively uneventful, but on Thursday the neck-ache-stiff-neck-shoulder-boulder-syndrome - which we largely attribute to the E.R. stress, and collar stretching - began. Two nights of no sleep and two sleeping in a sitting position and Rivka has had three reflexology-healing sessions (as gifts from our awesome friend Marina (and her husband Hans)), four chiropractic sessions, one massage from Beckie and let’s just say these hands are sore as well. She literally couldn’t even pick up the baby.

In the meantime, our two year old cat, Nuit has had a really scary looking eye infection which we confirmed this morning was one of three fatal illnesses, probably feline leukemia, and we put him to sleep this morning. Dr. Steadman looked like he was crying with us.

Our neighbors who live in the slum-lord dump next door have been “borrowing” electricity from us for just about a month now and have been gone from their house for a couple of days, but their dog - “it’s Heath’s dog.” Heath left the family and lives with another woman now - is hanging around the front of the house looking skinny as shit and runs around the neighborhood by night and day. Been leaving him food and water.

On a positive note, Rivka is feeling much better. She was taking huge doses of magnesium which acts as a muscle relaxer (there may have been some black market muscle relaxers and pain killers in the mix as well - in fractional doses), and has the side effect of causing diarrhea. As long as your near your own bathroom diarrhea’s not so bad; gets out the toxins. In terms of asthma, the bowels and lungs are on the same meridian so cleaning out the colon can actually help with breathing.We’re interested in learning more about buteyko breathing technique.

I’m reading a romance novel, The Bride by Julie Garwood, which is Rivka’s favorite. She’s read it dozens of times. Figured there’s probably something to be learned, but we’ve both confirmed it’s not from the sex scenes.