I confess. I am one stubborn human. Why it still surprises me that it takes a darn village of Spirit peeps to get my attention is a head shaker. But here it is. Another huge head shaker. 

I have these pesky physical symptoms that are chronic. (Hate that word, chronic. How ‘bout “ongoing” symptoms.) They’ve been around so long that they have become a part of my every day, my existence, the person I recognize as me. 

Too often I find myself tooting along hedging my bets, playing around with and attempting to “redefine” the actual truth of what I know will heal the pain. Or moving past the moments of depression and  downright exhausting thoughts of what it will take to turn the ship that is my human body, around. 

But at some point I have to admit that I’m way off track. My food choices have gradually steered away from highly nutrient dense light-filled fresh food, mostly plant-based eating, and gone the way via that slippery slope down, down, down into bad food oblivion and liver oppression. (“Yes!” answers my liver.) 

Soon I’m eating like an out of control pseudo vegan teenager. “A few gluten free tiny little cookies won’t hurt” until I find myself finishing the entire box. “Bread? Well it’s organic…” or “I had tons of fresh organic veggies most of the day, so I’m sure that will balance out the chocolate chip organic ice cream calling to me from the freezer.” Uh-huh. Sure. Right. 

I am now in full organic balancing rationalization, sliding down that slope grabbing ham and cheese with mayo to slap on that organic bread. Dreaming of just one more bag of NON-GMO Project Verified Boulder Canyon Potato Chips with Sea Salt (but it’s a healthy choice…) while wondering what the flavor of the day is at the frozen custard joint down the road (totally off the rails now).  

I keep trying to convince myself of the smidge of nutritional value in this ridiculous load of…stuff…until I can no longer ignore the direct correlation between my eating habits, my internal beliefs that keep the rationale stoked, and the undercurrent of whining that usually accompanies the ride down the slope. “I’m soooo tired of trying so hard all the time. I deserve some small treat every once in a while!” Waa. Waa.

Then…something terrible happens. A physical event that is so obvious that it can no longer be ignored. So in my face, I can’t reason it away as being “a part of the blueprint of my human path that I put into place before birth.” (That, BTW, is just another opportunity for slip sliding once again into physical hell. Another blog, another time.)

And BOOM! It happened. I was brought down, literally stopped in my tracks, by a blown up severely inflamed right big toe joint so painful that walking on it was impossible. The pain was unbearable. It looked like I was one inch away from a foot amputation. Not kidding. It was bad.

Now, I’m pretty well informed and regularly help other folks in recommending self-help remedies in acute situations until they can schedule a doctor visit. Why I couldn’t seem to get a clear answer for myself as to what would cause this much pain in so short a time was deeply troubling. The only aggravating factor I could point to was an usually long Saturday afternoon walk around the neighborhood. I knew my toe wasn’t broken because nothing had occurred which could possibly have caused a broken bone. Truth is, I became so focused on the pain that I was missing the answer entirely.

My go-to self-help tools were only providing very short term relief. I racked my brain trying to figure out why my foot was beginning to look like a seriously venomous spider had somehow bitten me without leaving a mark. By 4 am Sunday morning, I was desperately trying to wrap my foot with an ice pack for any tiny measure of numbing relief.

After a few hours of spotty sleep, I began to notice that trying to walk greatly aggravated the foot. Would resting it help? It did not. By late Sunday evening all my medical intuitive skills/tools and every bit of my resolve caved to the pain and off to the ER I went. 

After an x-ray to rule out a broken toe, the ER doc came back and announced he thought it was gout. Gout?! My response to him was “Oh hell no.” In the recesses of my so-called mind, the word gout will forever remind me of this factoid: the English King, Henry VIII, had horrible gout. Of course those people ate loads of meat and did ‘God only knows what else’ that caused all manner of disease. And then my brain lit up…

Yes, I thought (hand to the forehead). Severe inflamed arthritic joint where the blood is pooling and depositing poisons forming crystals. Oh…why did I not see this coming. A quick search through some Medical Medium info to confirm, and I understood exactly why this physical event happened. I had overloaded my beleaguered liver once again!

The pre-acute symptoms had been there for some time, and my refusal to acknowledge the trajectory of where they were headed was so wrong-headed and just downright stupid that I was shamed by my stubbornness. But acute pain will make the arrogant beg for mercy. And I did just that.

Ten days of Prednisone took care of the acute inflammation, and I vowed to increase my already revised diet (which I have done) to make sure it would not happen again. And to my great surprise (duh, duh, and duh again!) I almost immediately started feeling much better. 

I’ve had a veritable plethora of medications over the last 30 years, and so I usually avoid them like the plague. However, meds can be life-saving and in this instance, that steroid got me back on my feet and for that I’m grateful. The prednisone took down the inflammation and gave me enough steroid “feel good” to help me get organized as to food and supplement choices for long term changes. If I stop overloading my liver with food/toxins it no longer has the ability to take care of, the downstream effect will be positive as well.

Now mind you, I’ve had several major surgeries (one was heart bypass) and decades of overall pain along with chronic headaches, but all had improved dramatically until I allowed myself to backslide and lose my momentum. And like too many people, I had to be brought down once again to pay proper attention to the numerous signs from my body and from my Spirit peeps that I was about to bite the dust. 

Not sayin’ this episode will cure me of every bit of over rationalizing, of which I am a champion player. But this brutal refresher of what severe acute pain from which I can get no relief feels like, will certainly help. And my liver will once again be my friend. 🙂