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This post is part of Real Food Wednesdays, hosted by Cheeseslave and the No GMO Challenge.
My 17-year-old son, John, has provided me the highest highs and lowest lows in my parenting experience. As a youngster, his little league nickname was “Bulldog” for the way he would dig his feet in and stare down pitchers. If he was gonna steal a base, man, it was his, he pwned that thing. That kind of stubbornness adherence to purpose is both admirable and frustrating in the extreme.
He and I have been going around and around about nourishing foods. He knows they help his dental health, his indigestion and his moods. But he loves Ritz crackers, white bread, cheap grape jelly, peanut butter and plain old white saltines. No, he won’t eat the whole grain varieties. No, jam and fruit-only won’t substitute. No, “real” peanut butter just won’t cut it.
The other day he called me while I was shopping to ask for a box of Ritz crackers. I reminded him of the No-GMO challenge. Between the HFCS, the hydrogenated cottonseed oil and the sugar, there has to be at least one GMO ingredient in there. Not that there’s anything remotely healthy about them to begin with, even if by some fluke they don’t contain GMOs. But he was absolutely bullheaded steadfast in his request. I bought the smallest box available and hoped for an open door later to discuss the issue with him. He did some asking around today at school (specifically his Chemistry and Biology teachers) and on the way home, asked for my input. Not wanting to lecture his ears off, I hit just the high notes: infertility, lack of adequate testing, Monsanto’s hubris.
It sunk in. As we pulled in the driveway, he asked if I could bring home some healthier, organic crackers for him to try. He thought there must be some cracker out there he could enjoy as much as Ritz. He also asked me to send a couple well-written articles to his email address so he could do some research on his own. I was so proud of him, not only that he’s willing to set aside his personal preferences, but that he is seeking information and education for himself. This afternoon was definitely a high point.
This post is part of the Natural Cures blog carnival, hosted by Hartke is Online.
Twenty years ago, my husband was injured at work. Part of his medical care included visits to a family of chiropractors: a dad and his two sons in practice together. I would drive him to and from his appointments and wait in the waiting room during his treatments. The doctors would see me bent over, leaning heavily on my cane and in obvious pain and offer to treat me. But I had been through chiropractic treatment as a teen early in my experience with my knees and the methods of alignment they used made my knees much, much worse, so I declined.
One day, the oldest son doctor came to the waiting room and talked with me at length. He convinced me to get an X-ray series done and then just sit and talk with him about treatment options. I was tempted, but hubby had been unemployed for several months at that point and the disability payments we received weren’t even enough to make the rent. He was so adamant that he could help me that he told me he would treat me as long as I needed it for $1 per appointment, even for the X-ray series. I agreed, most gratefully.
When I saw the S-shaped curvature of my spine, the compressed disks and the arthritis on the X-ray, it was very scary. I knew I had problems but seeing them on the X-ray was a real shock. I agreed to allow the doctor to treat my neck only. He used a tool called an “activator” that looked like a gigantic syringe with no needle. Instead of the jarring pounding, pushing and pulling I’d experienced as a teen, the little “pops” on my back were very comfortable. I noticed improvement right away in my sense of balance and headaches I’d experienced for months began to subside. After each treatment, he put me on a special moving table (invented by the dad doctor) that would roll my spine very gently and slowly to massage the spinal fluid back into the compressed disks. It was a lovely, relaxing massage after which I felt about an inch taller.
Eventually I was able to trust him to treat my entire back—even my hips that had compensated for my uneven leg length for years. I experienced no worsening of my knees, but was able to move more fully than I ever had. For a time I was able to go without my cane and pain pills as my body became stronger and healthier. He continued my treatments through three pregnancies. That massaging table was so wonderful after a day of carrying a baby around!
My treatments continued until we moved out of the area, but the benefits of the treatment continued for several years.
The Dark Side of Fat Loss
