Monthly Archives: August 2009

Chronically skeptic

Recently, I was approached on Twitter with this message: “We have to talk, I’ve been told you can use some of the info that I have. – Don’t worry, it’s free.”

Does that pitch sound familiar to anyone else? In this case, the person was telling the truth about having been referred to me (by a friend who, long story short, was not really to blame), but the lies had already begun with the other claim. He further discredited himself by saying he had been to my blog and my Facebook page. The former is, of course, open to anyone, but the latter is inaccessible to anyone but my friends.

Why would you want to oil a snake?

Why would you want to oil a snake?

When I called him on this bullshit, that was the last I heard of him, except when he registered on this blog. According to his site, he has multiple sclerosis due to Agent Orange exposure in Vietnam, and for $25 — not my idea of “free” — you can buy his book explaining how heavy metal exposure has caused your chronic illness as well.

Now assuming this guy is actually sick, I recognize in him a kind of freakishly outsized version of what many people go through: the feeling that we need to take control of what’s wrong with us by understanding it. And for some, that means coming to subjective conclusions that are not backed up by any reliable scientific literature. Not so forgivable is the attempt to capitalize on these crackpot theories, especially by preying on sick, vulnerable people. Never mind if you are one yourself; we Jews don’t think so kindly of Bernard Madoff. It’s all the worse if you’re “one of us” while using our enemies’ tactics against us. Luckily, this snake-oil salesman was easy to see coming, starting off as he did by lying to me. Many purveyors are far more subtle, however.

What I want is for those of us in chronic pain and fatigue and illness not to be vulnerable. I was very well taught by an online community of Graves’ disease patients how to read my own lab results, learn about medications, dosages, and tests, and get in the habit of questioning my doctor when things don’t add up. My experience in that community and others related to chronic illness, however, is that while self-education on conventional medical matters is encouraged, similarly close inspection of alternative, experimental, and/or complementary therapies is not touted as strongly.

Again, I empathize, to some extent. I went through a period where I believed it couldn’t hurt to throw everything at the problem and see what stuck. Relief from daily pain and illness is so elusive, and for some people the feeling is that it can’t get any worse, so why not? I did eventually swing back to a more critical way of thinking, after continuing to read about skepticism and learning more about the science behind my own illness. Memories of long-past and ultimately useless sessions in acupuncture and hypnosis only sped up the process.

Tim Farley, in the FAQ for his site What’s the Harm?, writes:

What I am against is people engaging in these practices (particularly for philosophical or religious reasons) without carefully considering risks and otherwise doing proper homework. You should always avail yourself of the best information you can before you make any important decision.

This is where I come down on the subject as well. We nerfed people, and especially the newly nerfed, are at best grieving for our old lives, and at worst still in shock at the loss. And like the bereaved who may find themselves the target of unscrupulous funeral practices, we can be open to false promises and might not closely consider costs, financial or otherwise. I am all for it when someone shows a demonstrable improvement due to some therapy or supplement; by no means do I dismiss those treatments solely because they haven’t worked for me. But we need to put our pain aside and think critically about what we are paying for, or putting into our bodies, or letting people do to us, rather than allowing it all for no better reason than it’s just another straw to grasp.

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And now for something completely feline

Time to introduce the other girls on that banner up there.

You may adore me now.

You may adore her now.

This is Satori. She is a 10-year-old sable Burmese. Outwardly, a freaky little string cheese addict, but a total love bug at heart. She spooks like a little wuss yet easily maintains alpha cat status. If you catch her playing, she will immediately stop and deny it ever happened. She’ll gnaw your arm off to get at dinner, then further disarm you by rolling over and begging for belly rubs. Nicknames include: Tori, Tor-Tor, Satorio, Nancy Reagan.

DSCF1044satoriposestringcheese2

The original keyboard cat

The original keyboard cat

And this is Zen. She’s a five-year-old champagne Burmese and her personality is classic: part dog, part monkey, adventuress and supervisor of all household projects. Zen truly has no fear except for being looked at the wrong way by the six-pound Satori. She shares her every last thought and emotion with us, vocally or otherwise, and even has her own Twitter account at @zenthecat. Her favorite games are fetch (see below, with hairband), the Shoulder Leap, and WoW. Nicknames include: Zenzenzen, Zennifer, Zentastic, and Shut The Hell Up Already.

sheepsbighairbandDSCF0182

No on Prop 8!

No on Prop 8!

Burmese have cute bred into them. We call ours the lesbian kitties.

happysnugglesillsprawlmine!


(more little videos with the cats and the husband can be found here)

Hope you enjoyed the introduction. Upcoming posts will include a review of three iPhone apps I recommend for CFSers, and thoughts on chronic illness and pseudoscience. Please let me know if there’s anything you’d like to see here.

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Oy vey, this is a long post

Becoming disabled by chronic illness turned me into an atheist.

Maybe not in the way you might expect. There was no epiphany of God having forsaken me, as I was never close enough with a formal version of God to feel forsaken by him. And I haven’t even read anything by Dawkins yet. I was raised by two Brooklynites whose Judaism was found in their heritage, not in their religious practice, and only my mother was active in my religious education, because her father wanted it. This consisted of Sunday school where I learned a smattering of Hebrew and a lot about the many—many—Jewish holidays, and the observation of a few of those holidays at home. The focus was either on food, presents, or loved ones who had died, not Yahweh. I worshiped at my grandmother’s table groaning with blintzes and matzoh ball soup, not at shul.

In college I spent more time with Grandma, listening more closely to her oft-repeated stories of our family. I also developed a broader historical and literary interest in Judaism after taking a course in Holocaust literature from writer and survivor Aharon Appelfeld. Nothing I learned, however, brought me closer to God or clarified my personal belief system.

The architect of Congregation Beth Shalom replaced traditional Magen David images with a big bowl of chicken soup.

Congregation Beth Shalom replaces traditional Star of David imagery with a nice bowl of Jewish penicillin.

When I lived in San Francisco, a dozen years ago, I made a weak stab at trying to find a synagogue to attend. It had to do with loneliness more than anything else, feeling isolated from my East Coast family and seeking a connection with other Jews. When I moved to Los Angeles, I found an unconventionally interesting temple, and began telling myself that I should chat with the (female) rabbi concerning how to become a member of a Jewish congregation, or even just check out services some Friday. The place was even within walking distance, which for an East Coast girl in L.A. should have been the shofar call that drew me to temple. And yet I never went.

A few years later, around the same time I was reading a lot of books by Stephen Jay Gould and other science writing, I read Why People Believe Weird Things by Michael Shermer and there I found my epiphany: when it came to belief systems, “skeptic” fit me just as well as “Jewish.” I joined the Skeptic Society and began reading and learning more about the subject. What finally tipped the scales for me was the increasing severity of my CFS and the likelihood that I would have to stop working. While struggling with secondary depression and casting about for something to hang onto as pieces of my life were slowly chipping away, I started thinking again about going to talk to the rabbi of that temple. And, again, I never did. But this time, I began considering why I believed I was interested in doing this, but never took action. When I decided I wanted to talk to a disability therapist, a few months later I was in therapy. Why hadn’t I gotten around to this yet?

That’s how I finally understood one day that I had been atheist for longer than I even remember. I didn’t choose atheism nor did anyone persuade me into it; I just realized that I did not believe in God. And then I found I was no longer struggling to reconcile my beliefs, my vague spirituality with my firm views on skepticism and science. Many people who “find God” say that when it happened, the world suddenly made sense to them. I had the same experience when I finally let go of my last vestiges of faith.

Atheist but still a Jew. Feel free to pray for me. (Part 2)

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