A note from the Author (Gathering my harvest...)

To my beloved readers, for the past few months I have truly desired to offer you my humble interpretation of health, love, life and all things in between. However due to time constraints and numerous responsibilities, I have been unable to manifest these desires. Being a woman who believes in quality vs. quantity I have decided to postpone blogging on Dulce Salud until late December 2009 / early January 2010.

I am currently in my FINAL semester of my LPN-to-RN program. Along with my demanding schedule, I am working several jobs, preparing to relocate south by the middle of next year, all while being the best daughter, sister, friend, helper, healer, nurturer and Queen that I can be.

This past year has brought to me a lot of growth, pain, and pleasure but most importantly wisdom and stronger desire to be a vessel of knowledge for my brethren. I promise that when I return to my regularly scheduled blogging, your mind will be blown away by what’s in store

For a tasty sneak peak a few of my topics will include:

Body Talk: my personal reflection on how I went from being ashamed and unhappy with my body, to finally learning to love it after 26 years of living. Dance, assault / child molestation and consensual sex are among the topics that will be discussed.

Peace of Mind: an in depth look at mental health with a special focus on African Americans. Topics include; suicide, It’s a Family Affair (the genetics of mental illness and its effects on families), panic attacks / anxiety, depression, and PTSD (post traumatic slave disorder)

Demons (The Smoke & The Bottle): which will discuss addiction to marijuana, cigarettes, alcohol and crack cocaine (and their impact on us physically, socially and globally)

and a special theme that I am really excited about for Black History Month 2010:

The Evidence of our Magnificence: which will look at the genesis, apex and destruction of three of the most powerful Black infrastructures in America: Faubourg Tremé in New Orleans, Rosewood in Florida and the infamous Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Sprinkled in between will be my tasty love potions (recipes), current events and thoughts and theories about life in general. So my lovelies I pray that I remain close to your hearts as you are to mine and I ask that you send me love, prayers and support as I retreat to gather my harvest and prepare for the months to come.

Dulce Salud is in a brief layover, but once we board and settle into our next flight we will be soaring to new heights. So until then, I send you nothing but love, light and Salud! :-)

The Makings Part IV: Charm City

Curtis Mayfield’s soul and Lil’ Wayne’s swagger pour out onto the concrete. Children laugh and create their own piece of heaven using jump ropes, warn mattresses and milk crates. Abandoned buildings mirror the souls of the inhabitants that occupy them. Congregations gather on corners to sing drunken praises and experience the ephemeral euphoria of their vice of choice. Wheelchairs, canes and withered limbs shroud the vapid shells of former bodies that once reflected the divine image of their creator. The air is thick with a special type of energy that only warm weather can bring. This is the home of my people. An urban jungle, filled with prey and predators, danger and enticing beauty, with soil that has been poisoned by the toxic waste of capitalistic greed and yet richly fertilized by the decomposition of strange fruit.

Although the poetic passage above can applied to almost any major city in the US, this is actually my heartfelt interpretation of Baltimore, MD. Since late April of this year I have made at least 5 trips 40 miles north to take in what this city has to offer. Whether it was to celebrate my Natural Beauty, Heal a Nation or to behold Divine Royalty, it seems that Baltimore is brimming with the raw passionate culture that no longer seems to reign supreme in a melting chocolate city.

While Baltimore feels like my second home, (after Florida that is) I still do not know the entire city well enough to explore it without it my GPS or Map Quest directions handy. The comfort of familiarity gives me confidence but my inquisitive nature and DC tags readily announce that I am a visitor. Like a tourist, I can not keep my eyes off of the sights around me, the people, the soul in their eyes, the hair styles and fashion, the endless blocks of brick row houses. Scenes from The Wire replay in my mind as I cautiously maneuver around certain parts of town.

During my most recent excursion north I was driven by the expectation of getting in touch myself on a deeper level. I took a class at The Living Well on Tantra called “The Art of Giving and Receiving Pleasure.” Although I desired to understand myself more on a physical level this trip actually helped me gain a deeper sense of myself as a woman, of my black people and of the world around me. Despite all of the pain we encounter, we are still here - surviving and thriving, striving to experience living on a higher level.

Before I reached my final destination, I stopped at a well known black bookstore there to pick up some knowledge, a healing bath elixir and some shea butter. Although the entire store intrigued me I found myself continuously drawn to 3 main subjects: black health, black history and world travel. As I walked back to my car I realized that I parked directly in front of a Planned Parent hood clinic. I am grateful that Charm City has blessed me with some of her hidden treasures. All of these Omens tell me that my heart, soul and passions are leading me in the right direction…being a healer, nurturer and nurse for my people.

The Makings Part III: A Holiday to Remember

“PLEASE, OH MY GOD!! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!!!” I cried and screamed at the top of my lungs. I was in the visitor’s section of Howard University Hospital’s parking lot and sat on the ground with my dad between my legs. As I was helping him out of my car he started falling to the ground so I placed myself under him and slid us down to the ground safely. I did not want to move until I knew he was stabilized. I was scared out of my mind and panicking. He had a mild seizure while falling but kept reassuring me that he was fine once he came to. I kept screaming and crying and finally my desperation was relieved by two EMT’s and a stretcher.

Since we made such a grand entrance into the hospital, we were excused from an extended wait time and were escorted immediately to a private room where all of the blood draws, x-rays and intrusive tests began. For the longest time I have suffered in silence as I watched my father’s health decline before my eyes because of unhealthy choices. (Even when my pleas for change went unanswered I still loved him and supported his choices. There are some things that a man has to do on his own and being responsible for his health is one of them. Maybe one day men will learn that pride is not the best healer.)

I sat there by his side in the ER watching all of the monitors, wishing I was unfamiliar with all of the medical jargon and dangerous test results the doctors and nurses were throwing around. As much as my mind wanted to wonder off into a state of disbelief or shock, I knew I did not have time for any of that. This was a State of Emergency.

It was the Sunday before Thanksgiving. Dad and I had just gone grocery shopping a few hours earlier for our main items. We had our dinner plans all mapped out and were looking forward to another year of cooking a fantastic ensemble and inviting family over to break bread and spend time with. Little did we know things would be different this year.

For the past month or so he had this feeling that “something is not quite right.” He would start passing out but not remember when he was falling, he had spells of blacking out, excessive fatigue and no desire to eat or drink. His doctor had just diagnosed him with diabetes a few weeks before and told me to just help him monitor his blood sugar and encourage him to eat and rest. However the insulin and encouragement fell short and almost as quickly as my dad’s state of well-being. After we finished putting the groceries away he told me he could not see anything and passed out two more times. I helped him get to couch and called the ambulance. The medics came and checked his vital signs and blood sugar (which where normal) and said the only thing they could do was take him to the closest ER.

After my dad raked up major medical bills from all of my grandmother’s ambulance rides I decided that more bills would be the last thing we need so I told them to help me get him to my car and that I would take him to the hospital myself since his vitals and sugar level were stable. I had no idea this visit would morph into an extended stay.

“Jamilla, something is wrong with you my dear. You are not the same smiling and excited young woman that walked into my class in August,” my professor said when she pulled me to the side that following Tuesday. What started off as a semester of full A’s & B’s nose-dived into a series of “thank God I just made it” grades. I was so ashamed and shocked, but I’m glad she cared. I felt ashamed because I was one of the few students in my class who had “no excuse” for not doing well. I had no husband, no kids and no major drama in my life. But being worried about my dad, dealing with his anger and frustration (when he should have been looking at what HE got himself into) running errands, corresponding to worrying family and friends, working, and being a stellar student was taking it’s toll on me. I told her that I was going through some family issues but that I would finish out the semester with a passing grade. Maybe being away from dad and the responsibility of looking after him would be the break I needed…

While it was the first time I had the apartment to myself for over a week in years. Initially the silence was deadly. No sports talk radio or Delfonics blasting from the living room, no one to talk to about my long day at work and school and no clue as to how long he would stay in the hospital or what procedure or diagnoses would pop up next. “Silence,” I said to myself. Maybe it’s not so bad after all. I took my extra time alone to catch up on my school work, write, sleep and to just pamper myself and mediate. I think it’s the only thing that kept me sane. I am the type of chick that likes to have jazz, Nag Champa, roses and candles burning all over the house but your sensual swag (even if its just for you) gets put on hold when you are living with your dad. I made sure I made the most of this time.

I know it seems crazy but I even decided to start cooking Thanksgiving dinner Monday evening so that when Thursday came I could still enjoy my other family members and not worry about all of our food going to waste. It was exhausting! Making pans cornbread for the stuffing, chopping celery and bell peppers, preparing the turkey, peeling potatoes for the potato salad, making dessert, baking yams and rolls, I even left 4 packs of smoked turkey wings boiling on the stove for 2 days at low light so the stock would be hearty and just right for the gravy and stuffing.

My mom, aunt and a several cousins came over Thursday. I even delivered plates to a few of my older relatives that could not make it. Everyone was raving about what a good job I had done. (I was hoping they were not humoring me because of all I had been through but maybe they were telling the truth because it tasted good to me and a day or two later that $250 we spent in food was gone.

All of the anger, fear, fatigue and aggravation I felt melted away as I seasoned, massaged, rolled, marinated, baked and boiled my energy into our dinner. I felt bad and wanted to sneak dad a plate but the nurse in me would not let me do it, even if I was conscious of how much salt I used and had long ago traded fatback flavorings with smoked turkey.

He remained in the hospital for a total of 11 days and was discharged with prescriptions and materials on living with type II diabetes, high blood pressure and managing kidney disease. These are all diseases which can be controlled and prevented by maintaining a healthy lifestyle and diet.

Looking back over the past year I still feel the sharp edges of my dad’s pride when it comes to his health and habits but, I am learning to let go and let God. After his discharge, he was adamant about changing his eating habits and exercising more but within a few months he converted back to his old ways. My pleas for change still go unanswered sometimes but I still have a small inkling of hope that maybe one day he will choose the better choice over easier choice and make that change. Sometimes he jokes that since dinner turned out so well without him that I should start cooking Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner by myself. Even though he may be joking in his own crude way I am hoping that this year he will be with me so we can cook together as a family – because that is what the holidays are all about.

The Makings Part II: Her Final Call

“PLEASE!!!!!! HELP ME JAMES, PLEASE COME HELP ME!!!” my grandmother screamed and cried through the intercom system my dad had installed throughout the apartment. It seemed that over the past year the more my father had tried to accommodate and take care of my grandmother the worse she became.

A few years earlier she was diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer. Although she had her right breast, lymph-nodes and underlying tissues removed, it had spread into other tissues. It would do more harm than good to have the other affected areas removed so any care she would receive henceforth would be more for comfort than curative measures.

Although my grandmother and my dad continued shower me with love and affection during my routine weekend visits to their house, my time there became filled with anxiety and sadness. Shortly after she returned home from the hospital (post-mastectomy), I watched my dad run himself ragged doing everything he could to take care of her because he refused to put her in a nursing home. He did everything for her: washing her in the morning, cooking her meals, keeping track of all her pills and medical supplies. He even packed her wound. Leaving work during emergencies became part of the routine. He was often fatigued and fell asleep during church and other functions because instead of getting a good night’s rest he was answering her incessant cries from the intercom. I tried to remain hopeful but part of me felt that she would never get better.

There are so many risks involved with breast cancer that no one can pinpoint the exact causes of its genesis. However I believe that most of my grandmother’s health issues stemmed from her diet and lifestyle. A doctor had come by to visit her one day and I heard him and my grandmother talking, “Ms Webb I know that you grew up eating hearty but I really want you to try more salads and less grease” he pleaded with her. She turned her nose up and refused “I been eating this way all my life. This is all I love and know and no one is taking that from me.”

What types of food had she grown to know and love during her more than 7 decades of living? Hog heads (which are the scariest entree I have ever seen in my life) and black eyed peas with ham hocks on New Years’ for good luck, ham, bacon and eggs to accompany grits and pancakes for breakfast, salads drenched in dressing, pies and biscuits made from lard and any green vegetable under the sun as long as they were slow cooked in fat back. Although I was a long way from claiming my vegetarian ambitions I knew that when I “grew up” one day I was going to make sure I ate less meat and healthier than grandma.

This type of eating and being stationary all day is a very bad combination. Her knees and legs became weaker over the years so instead of engaging the world around her she was confined to the four corners of her bedroom. She had a radio, 2 televisions and her favorite Bible to keep her company. She often engaged them all at the same time (don’t ask me how she did it, my father is the same way and I still can figure it out.)

Although I was getting used to my dad’s frustration from dealing with her illness, this particular spring day something was different. She was calling him every 10 minutes because she kept vomiting this smelly dark substance, she couldn't keep anything down, she couldn't find a comfortable spot in the bed and her pain medication was not working. Finally after an hour of running to her room, carrying her from the bed to the commode and back, and cleaning up after her he called the ambulance. This sunny spring day in March of 1996 would be her last trip to the hospital.

The Makings Part I: Coming from where I'm from...

It’s the summer of 1983 and in a small apartment in SE DC a toddler crawls, slides and wobbles her way around a bustling kitchen under the watchful eye of her father while her grandmother prepares their usual morning breakfast. Scrapple sizzles, thick cut bacon slices are turned while eggs and sausage meld with the fire’s heat perfectly (this includes sausage patties and links by the way). Even though the selection is enough to satiate the hardiest appetite, the menu would not be complete without grandma’s famous South Carolina style Quaker grits. And these grits are not just your average tap water grits; these grits have been softened and boiled to perfection with a pot of chicken stock which she made fresh daily by simmering chicken backs on a low light for at least 3 hours. For the final touch our creamy concoction was then topped off with a couple of thick slices of New York Style Sharp Cheddar cheese.

This is where I come from. Down home, soulful and loving southern folk who know how to make your heart and stomach feel loved, welcomed and full (LOL, pun intended!). Looking back I was always amazed by the kitchen. I loved watching my elders making pies from scratch, canning vegetables and transforming produce into edible masterpieces. The colors, smells and tastes of their creations always seemed to bring family together and leave the most wonderful memories in our hearts and mouths.

Unfortunately, as time has passed and we have moved from the fields of the south to the modernized cell blocks of urban infrastructure (aka cubicles), and it seems that this food for our soul has also left us with a deadly legacy to be reckoned with. Diabetes, obesity, high blood pressure, acid reflux, kidney disease and cancer are all a part of this legacy, my family legacy. Now of course food is not the only source of these health problems; stress, lack of exercise and lifestyle all play a part. As I grew older and matured, began to see how the combination of an unhealthy lifestyle and poor eating habits destroyed one’s health.

I spent a majority of my life eating whatever, whenever I pleased. Ghetto sweet Kool-aid for days, steak and cheese sandwiches, jaw-breakers, pork rinds and red Rock Creek sodas from the local corner store and of course every DC Native’s favorite – the infamous chicken wings with Mambo sauce and fries. And who even thought about working out?! Unless we were in gym class or walking to catch the metro the only time I thought about breaking a sweat was on a Friday or Saturday night when me and my girls used to be club hoppers and show stoppers at the Go-Go's. However during my last two years of high school I began experiencing personal revelations about the woman I wanted to be once I entered college and transitioned into the “real world.”

The new and improved Dulce in my mind would be a woman that expressed herself and embraced her natural beauty. She would be a woman that could stand outside in the rain and let the drops caress her thick tresses instead of running from them for the sake saving her hair-do. She would be a woman that knew how to pick fresh fruit and grow veggies in her own garden. She would be a woman that was artistic and free with skin that glowed like the sunshine. And most importantly, she would be a woman that was healthy, fit and lived long enough to experience the joy of playing with and cooking for her grand and great-grandchildren.

My journey towards improved physical fitness and dietary habits has been a long and often lonely one. Each time I wanted throw in the towel and disregard my lofty dreams for the sake of convenience, I was reminded that our decisions are literally a matter of life and death especially when it comes to our health as African Americans. Although I have come a long way, I realize that this is just another beginning for me.

Death’s clutches captured and embraced two of my most beloved family members right before my eyes. I knew deep down inside that after witnessing this, my life (and lifestyle) would never be the same again.

Stay tuned for The Makings Part II: Her Final Call…

These Are the Makings of...

Me. It is said that we are all on the same journey, we just reach our destinations and personal revelations at different times. I feel so honored to share information and receive such positive energy from my brothers and sisters when it comes health care (which is one of my biggest passions, as if you didn't already know.) LOL.

However, I constantly advise clients and friends that when it comes it choosing resources and guidance, it is always best to do your research. During the past 2 to 3 years I have contributed to numerous health forums, sisters circles and of course expanded my experience in health care as a nurse. Although I always do my best to provide health related information, very rarely do I receive questions about my personal experience, credentials or intentions.

While I am serious about the health and well being of myself and brethren, I believe that our journey towards our higher and healthier selves can be filled with sweetness as well. So my next three posts will be documenting the "Makings of Me," personal reflections on how my family, education, life experiences and destiny have shaped me into a nurse and vessel of nurturing, information and guidance for myself and my people.

Dulce's journey has been one filled with tears, pain, growth, laughter and love and yet I feel that this is just the beginning - a preview of the treasures and experiences to come. I feel so blessed and excited my lovelies, stay tuned for Part I: Coming From Where I'm From...

Pandemic Pandemonium (and this too shall pass...)

It seems as if the hype of health scares rises and goes out of style quicker than fashion trends these days. Just within the last decade we have witnessed quite a few pandemics take place: SARS, Bird Flu, E Coli in our spinach and Salmonella in peanut butter just to name a few. While I am happy to have experienced the infectious euphoria of Obama-fever, it seems that the latest trend (umm health scare) known as H1N1 Influenza A aka Swine Flu caught everyone off guard, and has left us squealing and frantically seeking out protective masks, emergency rooms and eagerly awaiting an effective vaccine this fall.

The main reason I chose to wait before I discussed topic is because I knew just like every other hyped trend that this too would pass. This does not mean that I am not concerned about the health and well being of myself and fellow brethren. However, being the health professional and independent thinker that I am, I refuse to react to serious issues without educating myself first. Swine Flu (Influenza H1N1) is a new strand of Swine Flu which can now be passed among humans. It was first reported in the US and Mexico around March of this year. While this flu can be grouped into the family of the general flu viruses, since it is so new most people do not have immunity to it. This is what caused this flu to develop into such a health scare. Like any other flu virus, it is spread by inhaling respiratory droplets and germs from infected persons.

Signs and symptoms of H1Ni include:
Nearly all of the deaths caused by Swine Flu occurred not because of the flu itself but because of the signs and symptoms. (For example excessive vomiting and diarrhea can lead to dehydration and is especially damaging to at risk populations such as young children and the elderly.)

The best way to protect ourselves includes: covering our mouths when we sneeze, thorough hand washing with warm soap and water, keeping our hands out of our mouths and faces and wearing protective equipment such as masks. This scare had so many people worked up that asthmatics and persons suffering from seasonal allergies (whose signs and symptoms include difficulty breathing, sneezing, coughing and watery eyes) were nearly quarantined and swept away from school and or their workplace without second thought. Not every sniffle is indicative impending doom. While bed rest and fluids are the standard recommendations, Tamiflu and Relenza (antiviral drugs) can also be prescribed to assist in clearing out the virus.

A young lady brought her children into the hospital and believed they had swine flu because "I live in a homeless shelter around all of those dirty Mexicans and Hispanics and I know they have it." Needless to say I was livid (and after the tests were done her children tested negative for the disease). Cultural sensitivity and respect are necessary for us to live and grow in an ethnically diverse country such as the US. While certain diseases are common in certain countries or among certain groups, it is totally unfair to blame the proliferation of disease on immigrants. We are all human and ANYONE is capable of contracting diseases, whether they are inherited, contagious, sexually transmitted, etc.

So my lovelies I hope you found this post useful and informative. EDUCATION is the first line of defense when it comes to our health. Hype and fear should never overshadow our better judgment. As with any storm or difficult situation in life my motto for the Swine Flu is "this too shall pass."

P.S. To all of my swine lovers out there bacon, pork chops and ham sandwiches can still be consumed without concern. :-)

To The New Millennium & Beyond

Years ago when our predecessors had visions of the new millennium and the humans dwelling in it, I wonder what they had in mind. I mean technology has definitely found a way to invade each and every aspect of our lives – cell phones, black berries, digital cameras, GPS systems, iPODs and this just scrapes the surface. We even have microchips inserted into our beloved pets so that we can find them if they should happen to get lost, heaven forbid. To paraphrase a quote from one of my favorite movies The Matrix – we are all tuned in and plugged up.

And although we have not yet transformed into half human half machine Cyborgs, we as the inhabitants of a major industrialized nation are among a new breed of people who are unable to eat, sleep, procreate, or even function on a daily basis without the assistance of pharmaceuticals.

Back in 2004 I read an unforgettable essay in the New York Times by Mr. James Gorman entitled The Altered Human Is Already Here. In this essay he talks about how occurrences in life that were once considered normal such as baldness, menopause, PMS and even fatigue are all being labeled as illnesses and treated with medications.In the quote below Mr. Gorman states:

No group has escaped. Last week the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reported that 10 million children took prescription medication for three months or longer in 2002, and preschoolers, another study found, are now the fastest growing group of children receiving antidepressants. (Keep in mind that the numbers have grown drastically since 2002)

Even our children aren’t safe. What will we be in the next 50 to 100 years? If we are using Viagra to get up, caffeine to stay up, depressants to calm down, anti-depressants to cheer up, Metamucil to stay regular and Seasonique to skip periods, where will it end, where does being normal begin? What does it mean to be normal anymore? And how will my wallet survive because all of these drugs are life long treatments. None of them works as a cure because if they did the pharmaceuticals would not make enough money to keep making more drugs, to keep regulating our lives, so that we can achieve that American dream of Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness (without the unnecessary inconveniences that our imperfect bodies sometimes face.)

Well, I don’t know about you but I am a woman of the new millennium, I am tuned in to my iPOD, logged on to my computer, and charging up my cell phone as you are reading this. I get moody, I get sad. Sometimes I have restless nights, sometimes I am upset. But I am human; this is my birth right to go through the changes. I refuse to let a panacea in a bottle take that innate quality away from me. Will you?

Welcome, Make Yourself at Home...

Come in, take off your shoes and surround yourself with the serenity of a loving and healing space. Dulce Salud (Sweet Health) is an expression and offering of my personal journey towards holistic health, optimum living and endless possibilities. The tapestry of this blog will weave together the fine fabrics of mainstream Western trends and health related news, natural living and alternative medicine. Who says that health was all about prescription pads, white lab coats and painful procedures? Using the six senses of touch, taste, sound, smell, sight and being we will explore the world around us and step towards our higher and healthier selves.

Goloka Nag Champa is burning, the glow of the sunshine is warm and bright, the couch is soft and cozy and the green tea with honey and lemon slice can be warmed to your delight or chilled to perfection. No topic is taboo and no concern is unworthy of attention. So now that we are comfortable lets begin our journey towards Dulce Salud…