A Broad In Costa Rica

Morning In KY

My Kentucky backyard this morning... The fog is actually fog here, not clouds like in Costa Rica!

Did another yoga class yesterday, it was much harder than the first one and I LOVED it! It was taught by my friend, Cindy, at her massage and yoga studio in downtown Lexington. I'd forgotten that I was Cindy's first teacher: I taught her how to teach fitness waaaay back 25 years ago when she and I worked at mom's residential holistic health spa in Stamping Ground, KY. I forgot until she introduced me to the class as her teacher. Everyone turned to thank me...

I'm sure it was a little shocking: I looked much like I did yesterday AND I'm in terrible shape to boot. I can still touch my toes and I still know the names of the poses, but my "expertise" ends there. They probably thought Cindy was just being nice on account of some delusion I was harboring.

The point of that wordy windup is that I was so worn out last night, I fell asleep at 10p, then woke at 5a. I love getting up early, but am usually awake too late to manage it. Drinking that first cup of coffee, waking up with the sun, is the best. So the sun is hidden today, no matter. It's the rainy season here, too!

The kitties live here with me: Mia, Kaiser and Dracula. Guess which one is Dracula? When I opened the door to go outside this morning, a bat who'd been sleeping on the screen door woke up and whizzed past me. That was interesting! Winchester is so lush and green, cricket and bird songs are constant. So unexpected the way this place reminds me of that place. Gotta love it.

I'm staying alone in this gigantic house - more pictures soon. Time to go to mom's, see what she's up to. Have a great day!

"Hi. Um. Remember me?"

I went to a yoga class tonight about 4 miles outside of Winchester. It's all country here. Except for the bypass, every single road is a two lane country road, lined with trees, birds, and roadkill. I'm driving my mom's car while I'm here, since she can't. Somehow, somewhere along the line, I cleverly deduced that the gas gauge was broken.

Guess what? It works just fine!!! I know because it's been on empty for a couple of days and--gasp--I ran out of gas right outside of town on the way back from yoga. I was wondering why it took so long to start lately. What a dummy.

Fortunately, I can see a gas station about a quarter a mile up the road. Heck, not a fer piece at all. I hike to the station and ask the guy if he has a gas tank I can borrow. "No," he says, "but we have one for sale." For some reason, it ticks me off that he doesn't have one I can borrow and I hike out. Such a dummy.

The next gas station is another three quarters a mile up the road, on the bypass. So I hike there, passing plenty of roadkill which is, thankfully, really small and really old so not too gross. (You didn't really need to know that, did you?) Anyway.

On the way to the gas station, with cars whizzing past me, one driver yelling something that I'm sure was not complimentary, I'm thinking I'll probably have to buy a tank anyway, fill it with gas, then lug the darn thing all the way back to the car, hopefully not becoming roadkill on the way. What a really outrageous dummy.

I rack my brain trying to think of people I know in Winchester, where I grew up, who still live here and might be able to help me out. I will try to work in how I almost died so they can't refuse me. The only person I can think of is an old boyfriend, Steve Cope. I briefly wonder, while I'm dialing 411, if he'll be offended that I finally called him while I was in town because I need a ride to the gas station. But, hey, we were really, really, really in love when I was sixteen, almost 40 years ago, so I'm sure he won't mind.

I dial. I get his machine. I leave a message. I keep walking. Five minutes later, ojala, he calls back! Fifteen minutes later, he arrives (in his pickup, of course) and we greet like we saw each other yesterday. Isn't life funny like that?

He graciously took me to get gas, then back to my car. We hugged, made plans to keep in touch and got in our cars. He even waited till I got my car started and drove away. Yeah, life is funny.

Here's more proof of my dumminess: the first thing I said when I saw him, after he got out of his easy chair to come rescue me, was, "Oh my goodness, you are old!" Fortunately, he sorta chuckled at this. I'm surprised he didn't point: I just came from a sweaty yoga class wearing old, stained, torn exercise clothes I wore fifteen years ago when I taught yoga, I've been walking almost a mile in 85 degrees, my skin is still all saggy from being swollen like the Pillsbury Dough Boy, I sound like Edith Bunker (Steve and I met singing in a local talent show), I'm practically bald and the remaining strands are wild, silver, dirty and stuck to my head. And I have the nerve to make a joke about how he looks! Nice.

I'll bet he drove off SO thanking his lucky stars that he didn't wind up with me. When I have all my hair back and yoga has toned me all up, I'm going to send him a picture so he'll be wistful and think maybe he just imagined how that adorable young girl turned into such a wacky old woman. Yeah, that's just what I'll do. That's not dumb at all.

BBQ Chips, Ale 8 One, two Oreos and a Twinkie

That's a typical lunch in Kentucky. Ok, just kidding. It's what I had for lunch one day. Little miss health food here. Gosh, it was good.

Ale 8 One is the local soft drink, created, made and bottled in Winchester, my hometown. In fact, I'm staying in the founder's son's first wife's home, so there's plenty of Ale 8 around! All sugar and caffeine, we were raised on it. Not by my parents - they forbade its consumption. As little kids, we only got Ale 8 on special occasions. But, as big kids, once we had 50¢ and could run down to Gaunce's MiniMart on our own, that was the pop of choice. We all drank several a day in high school. How we have any teeth left is a mystery.

Yes, I'm in KY, here since Tuesday the 13th, going back to Costa Rica next Friday. You are probably wondering how someone so supposedly poor can afford to travel the world like I have been lately. Here's how: my family paid for me to come here. They gave me a plane ticket, a car to drive and are buying my food. You know, because they like me so much. Ok, kidding again. It's because my mother celebrated her 80th birthday last night and we figure she'll only do it once.

Plus, she recently had a bout of unexplained dizzy coupled with too many drugs interacting improperly (what is it with doctors and handing out drugs willy nilly?), including her wimpy Tylenol experience. So I'm hanging with her while she gets stronger, helping her decide where to move in Lexington. Since she can't drive, at least for now, she needs to be closer to the brood, who all live in Lexington. Plus, I'm in charge of finding a new home for her dog. Which, miraculously, I did. Go, me.

As it happens, there are tons of affordable options for elderly people. Actually, there are tons of cheap options as soon as you hit 62. At least 'til I'm 62, by which time I fully expect the federal government to be flat broke. As a libertarian, I abhor the idea of the federales taking anyone's tax money by force and giving it to someone else. As a daughter, I'm positively gleeful at the spacious, some brand-new, immaculate HUD-subsidized apartments available for my mom here.

For the record, I want her to live with us, or us with her. But she refuses: "I don't want to be a burden." I keep telling her it's just about the money (she's finally richer than me), but she rolls her eyes. We are having a little tug of war about this now. Stand back. It can get kinda messy.

In other news, I'm down to about 25% of my original mane. Hal is going to wig out when he sees me. (Get it? "WIG" out?) But I am über encouraged by discovery of the Wilson Temperature Syndrome and hair loss. Does that sound like me or what? I rushed out to buy a digital thermometer and took my temp: 96.7!!! Seems über low, eh? I don't know what my "normal" temp is. Who knew your core temperature was about anything but fever? But, oddly, it makes perfect sense. I'm thrilled. Still reading and researching, but über encouraged. Ecstatically encouraged.

I haven't been able to blog lately because my internet access has been intermittent at best. The house where I'm staying has wifi, as of today, so we can all be online at the same time. Good thing, because there's plenty to report and tons of pictures to share. Of me, naturally.

I miss my boys like crazy, all three of them. Not missing Costa Rica at this exact moment because my old Kentucky home is as lush and green as mi nuevo pais. I'm getting to enjoy the best of two continents right now. How lucky can you get?

Fallout (or More On The Hangnail)

DAILY REFLECTIONS July 4 IDENTIFYING FEAR: "The chief activator of our defects has been self-centered fear..." When I feel uncomfortable, irritated, or depressed, I look for fear. This "evil and corroding thread" is the root of my distress: Fear of failure; fear of others' opinions; fear of harm, and many other fears. I have found a Higher Power who does not want me to live in fear and, as a result, the experience of my spiritual program is freedom and joy. I am no longer willing to live with the multitude of character defects that characterized my life before today. This is my vehicle to freedom from these defects: I pray for help in identifying the fear underneath the defect, and then I ask God to relieve me of that fear. This method works for me without fail and is one of the great miracles of my life.

Just lately, I'm an emotional basket case. Fearful. I cry at the drop of a hat. In fact, I'm tearing up now. Like terminal PMS, only not the bitchy kind. (There's that silver lining.) I figure I have emotional fallout from being so sick, like PTSD.

The lingering physical reminders only encourage this PTSD:

My hair is still falling out in bundles. This pile is from this today's shower. It's like that every morning, and it falls out all day long. I pick it off my clothes and out of my food. Yesterday, the maid swept up such a huge pile of my hair out of the living room, she brought it in to show me, it was that impressive. Why am I not bald? Meanwhile, I'm still having to pluck whiskers off my chin, cheeks and boobs. This is just so wrong.

My voice is the pits: cracking, hoarse, squeaky, zero power. I have to admit, I'm discouraged about this. I'm figuring God won't take away two things at once: my voice and my hair. I'll give him the hair, but I want to be able to do theatre and sing with the radio and yell at the boys. I know you can't bargain with God, but I may give it a go. What have I got to lose? Besides, I know he likes me.

I've had a persistent, hacking smoker's cough since I got home, but that is so much better. For awhile, I didn't want to go anywhere because I coughed all the time, pretty uncontrollably. It's not a lung thing, it's a throat thing: The Tickle That Wouldn't Quit. I live on Hall's and Vick's Vapor Rub - that stuff is GREAT! But, the cough is now a fraction of what it was. I went to a theatre event tonight and hardly coughed at all. This is a huge relief.

And lastly, the most disturbing fallout: I'm suffering a loss of confidence in my body's ability to see me through the next 50 years. I've always been ridiculously healthy: we take boatloads of vitamins, eat well. I ran 6 miles a day for years, taught aerobics for years, yoga, bodybuilding, stretch, meditation. I was going to live to a ripe old age, like Granny Boo. But suddenly I'm harboring an irrational fear of getting sick again. God forbid, I should feel anything unusual on the left upper part of my body (the pneumonia was in the left lung) - I totally freak out. It's downright creepy. Fortunately, it's starting to piss me off. I hate being at the effect of something.

It's how I quit smoking. One day, I got completely annoyed that cigarettes and matches ran my life. I couldn't go anywhere without thinking about whether or not I had both items or the money and means to get them. Argh. What a waste of time.

I know that all this, too, shall pass. I've only been out of the hospital a little over 10 weeks. I am happy to be here, content with my lot, love my husband and boys and chickens and dog. Still skinny. Yay. This is just documentation, something for me and Oprah to talk about. She loves this kinda stuff. So, on with the show:

This freak almost-dying thing changed me. "Duh," you are saying. But it caught me by surprise. It's not a change I can put my finger on. I don't act different, talk different, or dress different. I don't think different, that I can tell. I feel different. Deep down grateful and appreciative. But more than that. It's like, there's a layer of energy gone from my person, an anxious layer. A buzz that is quiet now. Not that I'm calm. That'll happen when I'm 100% dead. Maybe calmer. Even though I have anxiety about my hair and my voice and my loss of confidence, that is momentary, really, items on a list. They aren't at my core like this new feeling. Sorry I had to almost die, terrify my family and spend all the lunch money to get to it. I guess God thinks I'm really, really stubborn. Wonder where he got that idea?

Everything else is as it was. I'm doing yoga to build my strength, meditating every morning, hanging out with friends, watching movies with Hal. It's waaaay quiet around here right now: the boys are visiting friends in the states for a month. Hal and I are Alone.

I know what you are thinking: "Woo-hoo!" That's what everyone thinks when I tell them the boys are away. They all wink and roll their eyes, tilt their heads, shake 'em knowingly. Honestly, people's minds go right to the gutter. Ok, so maybe there's a little more of that going on. Who knew old people could still have so much fun naked? Naked, bald and squeaky. Yeah, that paints a pretty picture, eh?

DAILY REFLECTIONS July 5 AND LETTING GO OF IT: "...primarily fear that we would lose something we already possessed or would fail to get something we demanded. Living upon a basis of unsatisfied demands, we were in a state of continual disturbance and frustration. Therefore, no peace was to be had unless we could find a means of reducing these demands. The difference between a demand and a simple request is plain to anyone." Peace is possible for me only when I let go of expectations. When I'm trapped in thoughts about what I want and what should be coming to me, I'm in a state of fear or anxious anticipation and this is not conducive to emotional sobriety. I must surrender--over and over--to the reality of my dependence on God, for then I find peace, gratitude and spiritual security.

What's On My Mind:

The Gulf oil "spill", what else? We are sorta safe here in Costa Rica, but this will affect the world, I have no illusions about that. Check out the new SpillCam. Unless you like sleeping at night.

On the Master Plan

So much has happened since last post, I can't think where to start. This episode really begins with the Key West trip, so let's start there.

Pero primero (but first), the really big news: Winston has 99.9% recovered from heatstroke. When I left for Key West 10 June, he was like a little old man. He slept all the time, moved very slowly, pretty much "fell" down rather than laid down. It was very sad for all of us. He was alive and seemed happy, not in pain, but not himself. Even so, we were thrilled with old Winston rather than no Winston!

When I got home, there was Young Winston The Rascal, practically good as new, bouncing around, happy to see me! He doesn't have the muscle tone back that he had - he and I are in tune on that score, but that will come for us both. A lovely surprise to see him back to his old self!

Re. the master plan: I've been toying with going back to Key West for a year test-run. [I'm only planning life in one year increments from now on. It's working great so far.] I thought about it last year and didn't follow through, but this year, my brain's been working overtime. There's a lot calling me back. The two biggies are:

#1 Work. I need to work and there's some to be had in Key West, both property management and sales - the market seems to be loosening up a bit. If we don't replenish the coffers, we will seriously be living with my mom. That is soooo not funny. B.P. (Before Pneumonia), the trip had been planned to see about work, so I did that in between visiting with Sandford and friends.

#2 The Boys' Lives. They need one: a social life, friends, girlfriends. They need to hang out. There is none of that here. The Gringo-Teens-in-Costa-Rica topic is too big to be included here, but it will be covered at a future date. Honest.

I figured we'd go back to Cayo Hueso (with any luck, subletting this house furnished), hang out for a year, let the boys take some college courses, see what's there. Then either stay, if there's work, or come back here or find the next adventure. We couldn't live in Key West forever because -- don't laugh -- you can't have a little farm there. I need my chickens and at least one goat and a tilapia pond. But the boys need to make their own choices about what's next and they need information and experience to do that. If they decide to stick with us, fabulous. That's my first choice. But this is their last chance to have a "normal" American teen experience, whatever that is. I figure Key West is as good a place as any to do that.

That's the secret master plan that's been brewing upstairs. Er, that was brewing. You know what they say about the best laid plans...

BTW, there's nothing calling Hal back; he'd never leave Costa Rica. But there's a lot up there in the old country calling me back. Besides work and the boys, my mom has not been well. It's nothing terminal, unless you count life. She just needs help and I can't do that from here. And I didn't like being so sick so far from my family and my home of 30 years. I want some time to hang out with my oldest and dearest friends who live there.

I went back partly to investigate that feeling, see if it was for real. From the minute I landed, I knew I wanted to be back there, that going back to Key West for a year was the right plan. The universe seemed to play along, too: in the first week, I was offered a job and a free place to live. Whoa. There's a sign you are on the right path. Then a guy called me out of the blue to manage his two properties. "Ok," I thought, "things are falling into place." This is how moving to Costa Rica was for us: things fell into place, practically in our laps. A sign we are in tune with the universe, with God's will for us. Or something like that.

Turns out, that was all a big cosmic joke: within 48 hours of being offered these two gems, they were snatched away. The prospect turned out to be a major pain in the butt and I was happy when he finally chose someone else. I'm a good property manager, excellent reputation, good prices -- less expensive than most. Plus, he spoke to two of my current customers who have been customers for years, even when I moved to Costa Rica. Not to brag but I usually get the prospects who call me. Not only did I not get this guy, I didn't want him! So... where is that sign pointing?

The job with a free place to live is still dangling out there, but one of the board members does not see how fabulous I am (what, is she blind?) So that is crunching along at a snail's pace. Maybe it will happen, but seems likely not. We'll see.

Clearly, the universe, with whom I thought I was so in tune, has other ideas which it is not sharing at this time. My m.o. is to keep hoeing, knocking on doors with my master plan in hand and see which ones open. My experience is that one will open, eventually. Just what's behind it will not be anything at all like what I was expecting. Hey, I'm open.

I'm open to staying here, too, as long as we can afford it. Our life here is really good and I don't want to mess with it. The best of both worlds would be to live here and be able to spend a little more time there. Muy complicado!

The biggest complication is the oil disaster. It has the potential to make Florida uninhabitable, financially as well as ecologically, for my lifetime. Fallout from the spill and the dispersant will have effects all along the Gulf coast for years. Before we make any hard decisions about leaving our Costa Rican nest, particularly re. moving to Florida, we need to see how this is going to play out. With a media blackout, that's hard to figure. It's nigh impossible to know the truth about what's going on or how to judge long term effects.

Here's the other odd thing. When I told the boys about going back for a year, they were pretty blasé about it. I thought they'd be beyond excited. But, as Mo said, "Costa Rica is home now." How about that for something totally unexpected!

Heading Home

With a nice long stop in Miami to SHOP. (Long as in maybe an hour, until I go into sensory overload.) But, baby, oh baby: this is livin'! I'm probably only going to buy guitar strings for Mo and a salad spinner, but, hey, walking in those Ginormous Stores featuring an Overload of Stuff is fun for a minute! How could I drive through Miami without stopping? I don't think it's possible.

Just got my rental car from Avis, breakfast with Pen, then drive to Miami, shop, visit Sandford in the hospital, then head to FLL to fly home at midnight. Sandford's annoyed that I referred to her as a little old lady. "I'm medium," she states, emphatically. Ok, whatever you say. You took on open heart surgery at 85, who am I to comment on your age?

This Key West visit has been excellent. I didn't get to visit with everyone I wanted to, but did get to really enjoy the friends I did see. The weather has been hot and beautiful. Only a couple of days where I couldn't wait to get inside to some ac. Air conditioning is the pits: an energy drain and bad for your health. But, some days in the sub-tropics, it's just the thing.

Examined the work front here: there is definitely work to be had, but, frankly, I have to be here to have it. Trying to figure that one out. I have to work, that's all there is to it. I want to work. And work outside with actual human beings, like I used to. Working online has its advantages but, since almost dying, I want to do what I want to do. Life is short enough. Definitely too short to spend working at a computer. Much, much more to examine on that front. I promise to keep you posted.

AD: Looking for a costa rica resort? Check this out!

This 16-day trip cost a hair shy of $1,000: $190 for the ticket (including bags and taxes; that's cheap, because who's coming to FL now???), $60 for a car to drive to/fro FLL ($30 each way) and $600 for expenses, including exit taxes, gas for B&P's car they let me use ($100), food ($230), dinner for Brian and Peg one night ($100) and misc purchases. And that's with only a couple of meals out!* Way more than I thought it would cost, naturally. I did eat my weight in blueberries while I was here. And blackberries: omg, they are huge and delicious. Plus relatively cheap - who could resist?

Speaking of eating out, at least half the people I know here eat out all the time. All the time. People here rarely cook except instant meals or mostly prepared food: salad in a bag, soup in a can, rottiseried chicken in a plastic dome. That's because everyone works all the time. All the time. Thank goodness we work at home and get to eat at home. I realize how spoiled I am with good, fresh food right in my kitchen. In fact, I'm looking forward to some of Hal's gallo pinto tomorrow morning!!! Yum!

Time to get on the road. Fun day ahead! Can't wait to see the boys and Winston and the girls (Eva, Lucy and Ethel.) There are roosters and chickens everywhere in Key West... but I want to see MY girls. Hope your day is just as good! Pura vida, S.

*Two meals out that I paid for. I actually ate out quite a bit - and Key West has some fantastic restaurants - but people kept buying me food. I guess I'm still looking kinda frail...

She Lives.

Sandford did great today. She survived the open heart surgery, everything went like clockwork. They even took out the breathing tube already! If she's up for a visit by Friday, I'll go see her before coming home. She rocks.

Dr. Kim's Alkaline Diet in English

Since I'm going to be eating this way, at least for awhile, my shopping list needs to be in English. Click here for Dr. Kim's alkaline diet in pdf: Download Alkaline acid foods list. It was really gratifying when I didn't have to look up too many words!

Turns out most of the foods I eat are on the acid side. That would explain the reflux, eh? I am a huge fan of the Weston A. Price Foundation which advocates Traditional Foods, including meat, dairy, butter (I could live for butter). On an alkaline diet, those things are either taboo or under the no-more-than-20% side. Heck, I am even willing give up butter to sing and grow hair.

From the compatible perspective, WAPF advocates all-natural, organic, non-GMO, and pesticide/antibiotic/hormone-free foods. Limiting your diet choices to foods meeting those qualifications ain't easy anywhere, whether Costa Rica or the states. Costa Rican farmers never met a pesticide they didn't like. I'm not positive, but I don't think anything is banned in Costa Rica. Heck, CAFTA has a Welcome, Monsanto mat out, just like NAFTA. Roundup is like manna to U.S. and Costa Rican farmers alike. Hence the trend everywhere for health-conscious humans toward Grow Your Own. Heck, I can do that, too.

Here's to going to any lengths for the pura vida, inside and out!

P.S. Pura vida is pronounced POOR-ah VEE-dah. Not PURE-ah, it's POOR-ah with the OO as oooo, not oh. And if I hear CAHSTA Rica one more time (instead of COASTA Rica), I will scream. Which will sound pretty hideous right now.

Key-Zen

I'm in Key West right now, chillin'. Yep, chillin' in 90 degree heat. I had planned to come up the 2nd week of May, to check on the properties I manage, see about adding rentals to that corral, to chill. I had a ticket paid for and everything. Then I got kinda busy coming out of a coma and had to cancel.

It's actually good I didn't come then because Sandford, my Key West "mom" of 21 years, has since decided to have open heart surgery. She's 85. Open heart surgery is delicada no matter what one's age, so I cashed in my Spirit credit and came now.

Last week, I spent hanging out with Sandford, mostly at her house, although we did manage to go out for sushi once. The thing is, her heart is just not keeping up with her joie de vivre. Here's something weird: she had pneumonia the same time I did. Do-do-do-do, do-do-do-do.

It was while she was in the hospital for pneumonia that her doctor discovered heart trouble. They tried a stent. That didn't help. They ran a catheter thingy from her thigh to her heart. That didn't help. The only fix left is to replace a malfunctioning valve. Or spend the rest of her life not far from bed, unable to paint or read. Painting and reading is what Sandford does. As she said last week, more than once, "That's no quality of life."

So, last Thursday, she left for Miami. The operation was supposed to be Friday but it's been postponed till Monday so they can get her hydrated and fortified. If one can survive a major operation on will alone, Sandford will be fine. She is cheery and, for the most part, immensely enjoying herself (as usual) and the attention she is getting. If there's any anxiety on her part, I haven't seen it. Saying a little prayer, and grateful to be on the planet with her!

While Sandford is due north, I'm hanging out with Uncle Brian and Ain't Peg, and Penny and her family. Penny was my business partner 17 years in the fitness biz and one of my dearest friends. Irwin, her dad, is the boys' surrogate grandfather, ordained at their adoption proceedings.

Belle is Pen's 15yo; I was at the ultrasound when Pen found out she was pregnant. Practically siblings, the boys and Belle grew up together. For the first few years of Belle's life, we lived next door to each other. "Good times," as Ryan likes to say.

It's fun being back, seeing old friends. I didn't tell anyone but Sandford and Pen I was coming... The very first time I came back for a visit, I spent too much money and gained too much weight indulging in "catch-up" meals. Now when I come back to visit, I spend my time sneaking up on people! And getting reacquainted with the heat. Which not only feels good, it seems to be doing wonders for my vocal chords and overall health.

Speaking of which, I'm good as new with a couple of tiny exceptions.

#1 My voice has not returned. I still sound like Janis Joplin and, although it doesn't hurt, it sounds like it does. People wince when I talk. Since my voice should have come back by now, a week before I came here, I saw an ENT doctor at CIMA. He scoped me (which was really not bad at all) and discovered granulomas on my vocal chords. I'd already seen pix of those delightful critters online so was expecting this diagnosis. Granulomas are not cancerous; they usually go away (with a little pharma help); they are caused by intubation and acid reflux.

The doc gave me Clarityn with Cortisone for a 5-day steroid treatment, plus prescribed 40mg Nexium (Nx) twice a day for two weeks, then once a day for four more. That's 56 pills. Even in Costa Rica, each one is four bucks. Talk about a tough pill to swallow. But I did. I want my voice back. Which brings me to...

#2 My other little tiny exception to perfect health: I'm going bald. This is seriously creepy. Unnerving. I'm suspicious that Nexium is the culprit, but I don't really know. It could be a result of stress - two friends have said this happened to them after a really stressful life event. Nx comes to mind because everything was fine until a week into Nx overload, then BAM: bald. My hair comes out in handfuls. I have bald patches. No one can see them: I still have enough hair for a natural comb-over. But they are there. I am loathe to touch my head because I don't want to find any more. It should all grow back, so I'm trying not to seriously freak out.

By the way, if a friend shows you her newly discovered bald spots, DON'T shout, "Oh my GOD!" and step back. Really. Remember, too, that your balding friend has not gotten a good close look at her bald spots because a) that is not humanly possible for most of us, and b) she doesn't really want to see them. Feeling them is bad enough. Just say, "Oh. Hmm. Yeah." And leave it at that.

Between the ENT visit and discovering my bald patches, I went to see Dr. Kim, my acupuncturist. He had offered me a free treatment months ago because he'd gotten good results from his free listing on the CostaRicaBlueBook.com. I'm now so anxious to return to abundant health, I took him up on it.

He shook his head when I told him about the steroids and Nx. "Western doctors prescribe drugs, don't want to fix problem." Why not cure the cause, he asked, rather than change my body's systems around to accommodate and encourage poor digestion? Which is probably the result of all the antibiotics I was on for three weeks. He ordered me to go off the Nx, to start taking pro-biotics and digestive enzymes and to change my diet to an Alkaline diet*, zero dairy.

Well, I didn't follow his advice. I figured I'd finish the ENT regimen, hopefully getting my voice back, and take my Key West trip. How was I going to change my diet on vacation? I'd start up his regimen when I got home to Costa Rica.

Then, the day before flying to Key West, I discovered the bald patches. I had no idea why, but I was starting to have other significant Nx side effects.** I did a little research online and found some connection between hair loss and Nx, but nothing official. I stopped the Nx immediately (anyone want to buy some? I have plenty and such a deal!!!) I ran to SugarApple, Key West's health food store, and bought pro-biotics and enzymes. I've changed my diet a bit, but will focus more on that once I'm home.

Happily, the side effects stopped within two days. The hair is still falling out. I try not to think about it. My voice has improved since I've been here. I really don't know if it's the moist heat or time, but it is quite a bit stronger. Still raspy, but I'm keeping the faith. Maybe I'll start the Nx again... we'll see.

Heck, if I have to spend the rest of my life as a bald Janis Joplin, I'll make it work. Things could be a LOT worse. And, of course, I'll still have my winning personality.

*This is in Spanish. There are four columns on each page. Columns one and two are name of food (column 1) and type of food (column 2). Columns three and four are a continuation. Eat 20% of your diet from page 1, 80% of your diet from page 2.

**Listed on the box. Nothing deadly but very unpleasant. Especially when traveling.

NOTE: I am sick to death of talking, thinking and fretting about my physical body, as you must be by now, too! It's like endlessly discussing a hangnail... I write in such detail only because a) this is basically my diary and I want to remember that I lived through some creepy stuff. And b) a reader might possibly go through some of this and will find it helpful to know someone else survived.