All posts by rebecca

Rebecca Wong has a BA in Honours English Literature from the University of Waterloo and has been working in the herbal business since 2000. She studied at the Ontario College of Traditional Chinese Medicine under respected authorities Paul Des Rosiers and Vu Le, and graduated from the East West School of Planetary Herbology under Michael Tierra. She received training as a yoga teacher at The Branches in Kitchener/Waterloo, and is currently studying to be a Therapeutic Yoga Teacher, specializing in yoga for depression, anxiety and burnout.

Perseverance

Me teaching my first yoga class at The Branches.

I joined a writing class recently, and one of the exercises was to take a decade of your life and compress it all into a single page of three-word sentences. One page. Only three words per sentence. It takes a lot of thought. What do you put in? What do you keep out? The point of the exercise is to summarize your life experience as compactly as possible. To remove anything superfluous and discover what is truly important to you.

Before embarking on this exercise, I read, and was inspired by the writing of many others in my class. They made it look so easy. Through this exercise, you could quickly see the focus in each of their lives. There is something about the three word sentence that leaves no room for prevarication. It’s simple and to the point. It makes things crystal clear.

But when I compressed my own life into a single page of three word sentences, I was struck by how sad it was. The previous decade of my life has been filled with mountains of all sizes. Lots of climbing. Lots of sorrow. There were plenty of times when everything seemed completely lost. Hadn’t I reached bottom yet? How was it even possible for more things to go wrong? Was anyone else finding life this hard, or was it just me?

It’s funny, but I began the last decade thinking that life would now be easier for me. That it would be on an up-swing from that point on. I figured I had served my time as a daughter, wife and mother. My children were growing up and starting to make their own, adult-sized decisions. I decided that the next decade would be just for me. For the first time in my life, I would focus on myself and my own growth.

Well, I did grow, but not in the way I thought I would. I look back now on the woman I once was, and I can see how naive she was. I can see how much she still had to learn. I can see all the painful moments that she will soon be facing, and I can think of no way to warn her. On the other hand, I can also say that, even knowing what I know now, I would still have made the same choices. I may have been naive, and I may have made some mistakes along the way, but I knew what was important to me, and I was willing to fight for it. I stayed true to myself. There is a certain peace that comes from that.

What all of this boils down to, is how proud I am of myself this month. That long decade of pain and sadness, all those years that I struggled to summarize in my writing exercise, did end on a bright note, after all: I was able to realize a long-held dream. Since I was a young mother, I have loved the practice of yoga, and dreamed of one day becoming a yoga teacher. However, I doubted my ability to complete the gruelling 250 hour yoga teacher training that would be required, especially after I became sick with CFS. I wasn’t sure my strength would hold up. I wasn’t sure I would have the energy. Well, this past year, I finally did it! I actually completed the training! It’s hard to believe. Not only did I complete the training, but I have now taught my first two classes!

If I were to give a message to my former self – to that woman of ten years ago – I think I would tell her to persevere. During those long, dark nights of the soul, I know that is what she most needs to hear. I might warn her that the next decade will be more challenging for her than anything she has experienced yet. But I would also tell her that she will be OK. That she has all the support she needs, both within herself and around her, to get through it. I would tell her that, even though there will be plenty of days when things seem dark and hopeless, there are many people who love her. And I would tell her to lean into that love.

I would especially tell her to soften towards herself. To show herself more of the kindness and care that she regularly shows to others. One of the big lessons I learned over the last number of years, is that the people who love me don’t care if I succeed or if I fail. They don’t care what clothes I wear, or if I’m rich or poor. They just want me to be happy, and they will do everything in their power to support me in that effort. I’ve been humbled by their care. My heart may have been broken into a million pieces over the last few years, but these people have also helped me put it back together again. I’m incredibly grateful.

Rehmannia Root

The luscious, black, moon-like discs of rehmannia root

Right now, in the middle of a heat wave, it is pleasant to look up into the dark, night-time sky and reflect on the moon. It looks so cool and white out there among the stars. It glows in a way that refreshes, in comparison to the more glaring, strident rays of the sun.

In Chinese medicine, the moon is said to be cooling and yin, in contrast to the sun’s hot, yang brightness. It symbolizes such qualities as femininity, delicacy, darkness, gentleness, and renewal. And as the moon reflects these qualities, so does our herb of the month: unprocessed rehmannia root.

Rehmannia root, particularly the unprocessed version, is a wonderfully cooling herb. In contrast to the stronger, more forceful heat clearing properties of an herb like Chinese gentian (last month’s monograph), it cools gently, like the moon. It soothes and nourishes depleted and dried out tissues, plumping them up and adding a glow. It’s gentle, moistening qualities makes it good at relieving all symptoms related to dryness, such as deep thirst, dry mouth and throat, or dry constipation.

Rehmannia root also resembles the shape of the moon, being traditionally cut into a round, disc-like shapes. It is dark in colour, calling to mind the new moon and its mysterious qualities. And interestingly, its effects are felt most strikingly in the evening and night, as it helps to clear away hot flashes, night sweats, and low-grade afternoon fever.

Unprocessed rehmannia root has a specific action on the heart, the seat of emotion and compassion. It cools gently, without depleting. And since a cool, well nourished heart is essential for good sleep, rehmannia’s soothing qualities can be very helpful in curbing sleep issues, when the moon shines most brightly.

Finally, unprocessed rehmannia root is excellent at stopping any episodes of unexplained bleeding, such as bloody nose, spitting of blood, blood in the urine, or excessive menstrual bleeding. When blood escapes from tissues like this, it is said to be due to too much “heat” in the blood. By directly cooling the blood, rehmannia root calms its stormy nature, and keeps it contained so that unexplained bleeding is stopped.

Raw rehmannia root is one of the ingredients in our Shou Wu Plus tincture, a product I often recommend to people after they have completed a long period of liver and gallbladder flushing. It moistens tissues and nourishes organs that may have become depleted through the cleansing process. It cools the heart, liver and kidneys and can improve sleep. Because it nourishes the heart so effectively, it can also help to quell feelings of anxiety, agitation, and nervousness.

If you think your body would benefit from the gentle, compassionate, soothing qualities of the moon, why not give our Shou Wu Plus tincture a try?


The Value of Support

This is me, second from the left, with my friends and my air boot.

A few weeks ago, I had an unfortunate accident. It was a minor one, and a silly one, really, but it had consequences that have put me in a bit of a funk. What happened? I stubbed my pinky toe on the foot of my living room couch and fractured it. Yes, fractured it! It’s just another example of the kind of general clumsiness that I often exhibit. I seem to have a lack of awareness of my physical boundaries, and when I’m rushed or stressed it often results in some kind of injury.

My schedule is pretty busy, and so I remember staring at that fractured toe for awhile, even as it throbbed painfully. The way I saw it, I had a couple of options: I could just leave it and keep hobbling on through the rest of the day, ignoring the pain. It would no doubt feel better eventually. But as I continued to stare at that toe, now pointed out 45 degrees in the wrong direction, I knew deep down in my gut that it needed attention. It looked obviously broken.

I was still reluctant to take action, though. It would mean putting people out. Someone would have to drive me to the hospital, maybe even sit with me while I was there. The waiting would likely take hours, completely ruining the rest of the evening. The more people got dragged into this, the more unhappiness it would create. And all because of my clumsiness.

But when I showed my toe to my husband, Mike, he was decisive and uncomplaining. He got up right away, helped me into the car and drove me to the hospital. If COVID hadn’t changed the rules, he would’ve willingly sat with me in the waiting room and made an effort to entertain me as I stared despondently at my foot. I know he would have because throughout our marriage, he’s always been the strong one. I’ve never known him to grumble or gripe about anything, and there’s been plenty of things he could’ve griped about.

This whole situation got me thinking about support, and how important it is to each of us. None of us gets anywhere in life without someone to support us. The support could be financial. It could be emotional. It could even just be physical – the simple lending of hands when you’re about to move, the chopping and stirring when you’re trying to cook, the walking of the dog when you’re too sick to get off the couch.

I’ve been fortunate in my life to have had the support of many different people. I’m indebted to my parents for raising me up in the first place, to my aunts and uncles who kept their doors open, and lent me a shoulder to cry on in times of trouble. To my in-laws, who welcomed me into their home and supported me financially when I became ill. To my husband, of course. No words are sufficient to express the level of gratitude I feel towards him on a daily basis.

Over the long weekend, I travelled back home, to the small town where I grew up, and had the chance to visit with old friends. The joy I felt at reconnecting with these friendly, familiar faces was unbounded, and I realized just then how much they have supported me too. Not only do they show up for me each time I visit home, taking time out of their busy schedules to meet up, but they also provide emotional support. They make an effort to understand me, to offer their sympathy for whatever I’m going through, and most importantly, they’ve taught me how to dance in the rain.

Each of my friends have contended with a host of problems throughout their adult lives, among them spousal abuse, divorce, single motherhood, teen pregnancy, chronic anxiety, and even major heart surgery. I think it’s safe to say that none of us quite expected our lives turn out the way they did. It’s also safe to say that each of us have learned through these experiences what truly matters: friendship, humility, kindness, and that all-important ability to laugh, no matter what your circumstances. We do a lot of laughing.

And so, as I stare at the air boot that now protects my pinky toe, I see another example of the value of support. I know this boot will not heal me. I know that my foot will still hurt. I know that I will still find it difficult to walk, and half the summer will be gone before I can enjoy a good hike. There are no magical powers here.

But like all the other supports in my life, things have become infinitely easier because of it. Enveloped by its protection, I can actually walk without limping. I am protected from further injury. I continue to heal, and I heal more quickly. And as I consider the level of protection that surrounds both me and my foot, I understand what it all truly means. It means that, despite everything, even my clumsiness, I am loved.


The Waayyy Behind Book Club

Introducing the Waayyy Behind Book Club! Inspired by a book-crazy friend of mine, I thought I’d post every month about the books I’ve been reading. I am an English Literature Major, so understandably, reading is a particular passion of mine. I read, on average, about one book per week, although sometimes I read more than that, depending on how much free time I have. If I have difficulty sleeping, I reach for a book. If I’m stressed, I reach for a book. If I’m bored, I reach for a book. A lot of reading tends to get done when books become your emotional crutch!

Keep in mind that these will NOT be current reads (hence the name “Waayyy Behind”). I find it far too stressful to keep up with what’s currently popular. The books I list here will be old, out of the news, perhaps even forgotten. They will have been recommended to me by friends. I might have read an interesting article about them, or perhaps I saw them on some kind of “Best of” list.

Feel free to comment on my picks if you’ve read the same book yourself. Or, if a book piques your interest, ask me about it and I’ll be happy to give you an overview. You can even suggest other books to me if you think I might like them. I -love- to talk about books, so all comments are welcome and valued!

Without further ado, the books I’ve read this month are: Influenza by John M Barry, Anne of Avonlea by Lucy Maud Montgomery, The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri, The Lake by Banana Yoshimoto, In an Unspoken Voice by Peter Levine, and Gaudy Night by Dorothy L Sayers.

Influenza was particularly intriguing, as it chronicled the 1918 pandemic. You could tell the author meant some of the events to shock us (The streets were empty because everyone was afraid to go out! People were wearing masks everywhere! People would pick up goods outside of shops rather than enter them! ), but having experienced pretty much the same thing over the last few years, I could only nod, wearily. Their pandemic experience was different from ours in a number of ways, and if you’re curious, I can provide more details.

Anne of Avonlea is the second book in Lucy Maud Montgomery’s famous Anne of Green Gables series. I realized recently that I’ve never read further than the first book, even though I love the main character. So, that’s why this old book suddenly appeared on my reading list this month.

The Namesake, The Lake, and Gaudy Night were books I had read articles about, and heard were very good. Both The Namesake and The Lake have won some awards, and Gaudy Night is considered by many to be the best of Dorothy L Sayers books. (She’s a famous crime novelist from the last century).

I think my favourite book this month was In an Unspoken Voice by Peter Levine. It was a fascinating book about the Polyvagal Theory and how our bodies hold trauma. It even included some exercises you could do to release blocked energy from your own body. I learned a lot. It turns out that thinking or talking about traumatic experiences does little to actually heal them. Self-compassion and a willingness to feel difficult emotions is key.

So, what have you been reading lately? Anything good?

A New Hope

On a lovely summer’s day last week, my son and his girlfriend finally graduated from university. I say ‘finally’ because, like all paths undertaken during the last few years, their journey has not been an easy one. Confused, distraught, and occasionally boxed in, they’ve persevered regardless.

Like all students during the pandemic, their classes were up-ended, changing overnight from in-person to on-line. Discussions with their teachers, once so easy to initiate, suddenly became obstacle courses of frustration. Everyone had questions and concerns, and email inboxes were quickly overrun. Opportunities that had taken months to set up, were washed by the wayside, possibly never to return. It was easy to become discouraged.

In the midst of all that, we were also dealing with big familial stresses. Julia had been moved into a nursing home less than two years before, and although she had been in excellent health for years, she was starting to decline. Just when she needed us, it was virtually impossible to visit with her. Relatives from far away were confused about what was going on, and needed to be assuaged. Supports that we thought would hold firm, swayed and then broke.

Work was also difficult. No one knew how well Julia’s business would fare during the pandemic, and it was already reeling from the loss of her. Her self, her voice, her story. She had always been the heart and soul of our business, and now, in addition to that uncertainty, we were now dealing with the world shifting beneath our feet. We had no reassurances. We had no idea what might happen.

There were days when it was extremely difficult to get out of bed. I would try to think of something good to look forward to, anything positive to propel me forward. On many days, food felt like the only thing good in my life – the possibility of a nice grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. That first cup of hot coffee. On other days, it was the serenity of the park as I walked my dog, watching the trees gently shifting above me.

We pulled together as a family. We put one foot in front of the other, and just kept going. Sometimes soft encouragement did the trick. Sometimes active pulling was required. Every once in awhile, someone would break down and need extra emotional support. We did the best we could to attend to everyone’s needs. I’m immensely proud of the way we’ve held each other together and supported one another through this extended series of challenges.

My sons learned valuable lessons along the way. Don’t give up. Keep focused on the job before you. Try not to become distracted by worries and fears that may not come true. Look out for one another. Be kind. Always be mindful of how someone else might be struggling. Don’t judge. Listen closely and show compassion.

And now, after such a long journey through a world fraught with darkness, it feels good to finally celebrate a clear win. I have nothing but hope for these two. I fervently wish that their next few steps will be easier. It is my hope that they continue to walk with confidence towards their future, in a world that is still quaking with change.

The last few years have been so difficult for so many of us. More than anything, I wish the same things to all of you. May your hopes be fulfilled and your future bright. May challenges that once seemed impossible be suddenly swept away. Thank you to everyone who has supported, and continues to support us throughout these challenging times. You mean the world to us.


Chinese Gentian

Our herbal monograph of the month is Chinese gentian, the main ingredient in our Chinese Bitters tincture.

There are many herbs in the gentian family, used all over the world. All are valued for their positive effect on liver health and liver functioning. However, the particular form of gentian that we use, with the Latin name of gentian scabra, came to Julia’s attention many years ago when one of her uncles was told he had not long to live by a Western doctor.

According to the family, he was 67 years old and his liver was failing, causing him to feel tired and weak. His hands became dark in colour due to poor blood supply. A Chinese doctor prescribed Chinese gentian to him, and after using this herb for a number of months, his situation was completely reversed. His liver was returned to health and he ended up living to the ripe old age of 90.

This family story made quite an impression on Julia, so when she was told that her own liver was weak and congested, there was no question that she would take Chinese gentian herself. Before creating her own unique tincture containing Chinese gentian, she read many classic Chinese herbal texts, searching out as many different formulas as she could, before coming up with her own. She knew that her own formula would need to be special – it would have to be free of estrogenic activity. Otherwise, it risked flaring her symptoms of endometriosis.

According to Chinese medicine, Chinese gentian is known to clear damp-heat from the liver area. In Western terms, this means it reduces inflammation in the liver, and also helps to release excess fluids from the body. Oral ingestion of Chinese gentian has been shown to increase the production and excretion of bile in dogs[1]. It also has hepato-protective (liver protective) effects in mice[2], and has had good results in treating high liver enzyme levels and chronic hepatitis[3]. It has strong anti-bacterial properties, protecting against salmonella, and staphylococcus infections, among other types of bacteria[4].

Our Chinese Bitters tincture is one of our most popular tinctures. Customers use it for several weeks to prepare for a liver and gallbladder flush, and then, even after their flushing is done, they continue to take Chinese Bitters regularly for years because they find it so helpful. If you are interested in learning more about Chinese gentian, or our Chinese Bitters tincture, give us a call, or send us an email.

  1. Yun Nan Yi Yao (Yunan Medicine and Herbology), 1991; 12(5):304
  2. Ibid.
  3. Shang Hai Zhong Yi Yao Za Zhi (Shanghai Journal of Chinese Medicine and Herbology), 1965; 4:4
  4. Zhong Yao Yao Li Yu Ying Yong (Pharmacology and Applications of Chinese Herbs), 1983; 295

Remembering Julia

It’s been difficult for me to talk about Julia’s decline and death. For the last few months, I have felt simultaneously wrenched and yet also numb. Silenced. Muted. It’s been too much to process. Too much to feel. Julia was such a large presence in my life. When I look around at her home, at her business, at all the things she left behind, I still can’t believe that she’s gone.

We didn’t exactly get on right away, Julia and I. When I first met her back in the year 1990, she was aloof, suspicious, and distrustful. I had just started dating her son and she wasn’t inclined to like me. I can still remember how she looked then. The skin on her face still had a dark-ish tinge about the sides, and she looked tired. She hadn’t yet learned how to heal herself, and so her demeanour was bitter and weary. When I said ‘hello’, she looked down at the ground and self-consciously patted her hair into place. I wondered how I, a young 20 year old girl, could possibly make her nervous.

As I look back now, I don’t think I made her nervous at all. Those gestures were merely a way for Julia to examine me more closely without appearing too obvious about it. In truth, she had most likely already made a judgment about me. Julia lived her life by following her gut instincts, and she trusted those explicitly. If she got a negative feeling about you, from something you said or did, that feeling would be exceptionally hard to shift. I don’t think I passed her test on that first day we met, but somehow, over the next three years, I did.

I knew that I had passed her test because, suddenly, out of the blue, she asked me to come help her at her health food store. She didn’t have to do that. By that time, I had been married to her son for almost a year and had just graduated from university. I was looking for work, and Julia said she could use some help. We figured we could help each other out. And so our humble journey together began.

If you worked for Julia at that time, you couldn’t help but respect her. Deep respect. Customers would come for miles to get her advice, and this was before she started selling her own Chinese herbal tinctures. They would ask her advice about which supplements to take, which foods to eat, which foods not to eat. She spoke with such intelligence and knowledge. I was in awe of her. One night, I sat at the dinner table with her, long after everyone else had left, and listened to her personal story. She was incredible. So smart, and yet so humble. A vulnerable little bird who hadn’t yet come into her power. I will always remember that special time.

In the years that followed, Julia and I worked more closely together. I became her right-hand man. I helped her manufacture her products. I answered email for her for years. We consulted with one another about her customers late at night, bouncing ideas off of one another. But make no mistake, it was always Julia who was in charge. It was she who made the decisions, and they were usually bang on.

And so it was very difficult for me, for all of us, when Julia began to decline. When her decisions stopped making sense. She would forget things, and Julia never forgot things. She, who had always been so sharp, began to do and say things that were definitely off. She forgot the names of common objects. She couldn’t tell what time of day it was. Long-time customers that had come to see her for years were suddenly forgotten. We would confer with one another. Is this normal? Should we be concerned?

It turns out, we needed to be concerned. The last five or six years have been tumultuous, to say the least. For, even as her memory slip-ups and judgment errors increased in number and severity, Julia never would accept that she had a problem. Up until the very end, she still believed that she was fully in control of herself. That she alone knew all the answers. She’d been deeply independent and distrustful of other people her entire life, so when we tried to place limits on her freedom, she could only ever see it as a personal attack. It was a very painful and difficult time.

Even when she was finally confined to a nursing home, she found a way to stay in charge. In her own mind, she was still going to work each day, and doing important things. She would tell the other patients that they needed to cleanse their liver. She would continually harass them for payment. “Where is your receipt?” she would demand. It was kind of funny, but it was also incredibly sad.

We finally lost Julia this past February. Although, in truth, we had already lost her years before. During our last visits with her in the nursing home, before the pandemic, I would watch her face, ask her questions. It was difficult to get her to sit still. She continued to believe she had work to do. That she was far too busy to sit and talk. And then, when the pandemic happened, visiting with her became almost impossible. During her last weeks, we had to watch her slowly decline over Zoom calls. She had lost the ability to swallow, and just withered away.

I feel privileged to have known, and been close to, such an incredible woman. I learned so much from her over the years. Many of her thousands of customers have told me the same. She inspired people. She changed lives. There are many pictures of her around our house, so I still ‘see’ her every day. I think of her often. I know that I will never forget her. She has left her mark on me, so she now comes along with me wherever I go, living through my eyes, and feeling through my heart.

If it is at all possible, I know she’s still having an impact, wherever she is. That’s just the kind of person that Julia was. Original. Exceptional. Unforgettable. I hope you rest peacefully, Julia.




A Wave of Loneliness

2020 was a difficult year for many, full to the brim with novel stresses and packed with uncertainty. The arrival of vaccines in 2021 promises to change things, but the mental and physical challenges from the past year have taken their toll, and may be difficult to fully heal. One of these challenges has been the troubling rise in loneliness, particularly among people who have been living alone during all the lock-downs. The pandemic didn’t necessarily create this rise in loneliness; it was already there. But it certainly didn’t make it any better.

Mental health experts have been warning us about the dangers of loneliness for years. In 2017, the US Surgeon General Vivek Murthy made headlines when he called loneliness a public health “epidemic”. In 2018, the UK government appointed a “minister for loneliness” to tackle all the health problems caused by social isolation. People are gradually waking up to the fact that loneliness is not only pervasive, but is also a serious health issue.

According to the CDC, loneliness increases the risk of premature death from all causes: heart disease is increased by 29%, stroke by 32%, and the risk of dementia by 50%. People who experience loneliness also report having higher incidence of emotional disorders, such as anxiety (76%), a loss of feelings of connectedness (58%), and an increase in depression (78%), all of which may require medication. Researchers now find that the health complications associated with loneliness are are similar to those incurred by smoking, alcoholism, or obesity.

Perhaps even more troubling than the loneliness itself is who is feeling it. Long a risk factor for the elderly, loneliness is now felt most strongly among young people. Currently, 61 percent of people aged 18 to 25 report high levels of loneliness, . Richard Weissbourd, a psychologist and senior lecturer at the Harvard Graduate School of Education (HGSE) says: “It’s a group that we are really concerned about. If you look at other studies on the elderly, their rates of loneliness are high, but they don’t seem to be as high as they are for young people, ” which is deeply unsettling. In the past, young adulthood has always been more synonymous with optimism and vitality. When the majority of a society’s young people start to report regular feelings of loneliness, anxiety and depression, something has gone very wrong.

The definition of loneliness, according to Merriam-Webster, is “being without company”, but feelings of loneliness doesn’t just happen when you are alone. In fact, loneliness is often felt most acutely in the presence of others. It can happen whenever your efforts to connect with others fail to bear fruit, or whenever you feel unseen or misunderstood. The amount of people around you is less important than how those people make you feel.

John Cacioppo, a researcher at the Center for Cognitive and Social Neuroscience in Chicago, posits that the feeling of loneliness is an important and critical sign: it means we need to take action and find a social group. Throughout our history as a species, the failure to join a social group meant vulnerability and increased risk of death, so the feeling of loneliness is an important one. It ensured that we banded together. It increased our rate of survival. Unfortunately, in modern North American culture, families and communities have been slowly dismantled over the last few decades as young people moved long distances to find work. We’ve also been taught to praise independency and autonomy in ways that Asian, South American, and African societies have not. This has all resulted in a lot of lonely people. People who are not only lonely, but afraid to admit it and seek help.

So, what can we do to help heal our nervous system and quell feelings of loneliness? Number one: reach out to others. If you are feeling lonely, instead of feeling embarrassed and trying to numb your feelings with alcohol or Netflix, acknowledge what you feel and schedule a meet-up or a Zoom call with a friend or family member. It may be harder to do, but you’ll feel better in the long run. Number two: take care of your nervous system. Dr. Shimi Kang, a psychiatrist in Vancouver suggests we follow all the usual advice: regular sleep, regular exercise, and time spent outdoors in nature. All will help you to feel more grounded, and balance out feelings of emptiness. Also, consider getting a pet. Pets are the ultimate stress-busters and mood elevators, studies show. Just petting a dog can lower your cortisol level in just ten minutes, and can also lower blood pressure, heart rate, slow breathing, and calm anxiety. Pets may not be able to fully replace human contact, but they can go a long way.

Also, until the successive waves of the pandemic are finally over, I think we need to work harder at checking in on one another. If we notice that someone is behaving oddly, or seems anxious or depressed, we can try to show compassion, rather than judgement. Kindness is good for everyone, even yourself. If we can pull just one good thing out of this pandemic, let it this: that we know, now, how hard it is to feel alone and estranged. That we know, now, how much we need one another. Let us not forget it. Let us strive to take care of the people we love, and through that caring, finally reduce this wave of loneliness.

Racial Bias In Western Research

I recently stumbled upon a study that led me down a metaphorical rabbit-hole, drawing me deeper and deeper through information I’d never considered before. The study itself was small, involving just 250 women of childbearing age, and looked specifically at caffeine intake and its effects on the hormone estrogen. I was drawn in because the researchers actually thought to check the effect of a woman’s race on the outcome, which is rare. And as it turns out, race had a pretty big impact on the results.

The study found that caffeine definitely affected a woman’s estrogen level, albeit to a minor degree. The really interesting part, though, was how it broke down by race. The Caucasian women in the study saw their estrogen level drop slightly after ingesting just 200 mg of caffeine a day. Similarly, black women saw their estrogen level drop, although less significantly. But the big news was the Asian women who actually saw their estrogen level rise. The rise in estrogen was not large enough to affect their fertility, but it did attract attention. Researchers tried to control for the racial disparity, by looking at age, diet, exercise, and whether or not the woman smoked, but the results remained unchanged. It made me wonder why Asian women would have such a completely different reaction to caffeine compared with other races. What the heck was so different about Asians?

It turns out that Asian populations do have a considerably different metabolism than the rest of us. For example, while many people of Asian descent remain thin, they have a greater tendency to develop obesity-related complications, like high blood pressure and diabetes. So, even though they are usually slimmer and fitter-looking than the rest of us, their internal organs could be telling an entirely different story.

Researchers cannot yet explain why this happens, but the distribution of body fat is very different depending on your race. Causasian and black people typically accumulate fat in their hips and legs first, and their visceral organs only later, but the opposite appears to be true for Asians. Because fat is so easily stored in their internal organs, even a seemingly slight Asian may already be showing signs of a serious metabolic disorder when looked at from the inside.

It is suspected that this is a genetic adaptation that evolved as a way to protect against starvation. If so, it would have been helpful in centuries past when food scarcity was a more regular occurrence. However, in our modern, calorie-rich environment, it creates problems, and not just because it increases their tendency towards metabolic disorders. It also affects fertility. For Asian women with hormonal imbalances like PCOS tend to develop higher insulin and testosterone levels than other women with PCOS, further complicating the condition. Asian women also seem to be more sensitive to hormone injections in general, responding more quickly and dramatically to any hormone increases.

This brings to mind another common problem among Asians: their inability to properly metabolize alcohol. If you have Asian friends, you may notice that they don’t tend to drink much. This may be partly cultural, but it’s also true that around 30% of Asians lack one of the enzymes needed to properly breakdown alcohol. As a result, they experience facial flushing after just a drink or two, which keeps them from indulging further.

With such a significant difference in their ability to metabolize caffeine, alcohol and hormones, and a known tendency to produce abdominal and visceral fat more quickly than other races, I wonder that Asians aren’t singled out more often in scientific studies. For that matter, what about all the other potential racial differences in health outcomes? For example, it’s well known that sickle cell anemia occurs more frequently in descendants of African populations, and that cystic fibrosis occurs more frequently in descendants of European populations. There are probably many other health problems, not to mention the drugs used to treat them, that work completely differently in select racial groups. Scientific researchers seem to be only slowly awakening to the significance of this.

Of course, race isn’t the only variation among humans. The even more obvious one is sex, and here, we also find big discrepancies. Men and women are known to react to many drugs very differently. For example, it has recently been found that women metabolize sleeping pills much more slowly than men, and as a result, the FDA has reduced the recommended dosage of Ambien for women by half to help prevent overdose. It doesn’t end there. Medical practitioners know that women tend to wake up from anaesthesia faster than men during surgical procedures, and have more severe side effects to other common drugs, like cholesterol-lowering drugs, and even anti-histamines and over-the-counter aspirin. The exception is high blood pressure medication, which actually appears to work better in women than in men.

Yet most research continues to focus on one group only: Caucasian people, and Caucasian men in particular. In most cases, we simply don’t know the true effect of a drug on someone from an Indian or Middle Eastern background, because they’ve never been included in scientific studies. Or, if they were included, their potential reactions were never isolated and observed. The situation is even worse for women, who are typically excluded from drug trials completely because their monthly hormone fluctuations make their reaction to drugs less predictable, and therefore more confusing.

This bias towards Caucasian men in scientific research is a real weakness for Western medicine, and produces a giant blind spot when it comes to treatment. Just think how much more effective Western medicine could be if they considered different racial and sexual reactions in their drug trials and treatment plans. I’ve always thought this was one of the strengths of Chinese medicine, for TCM practitioners have always been taught to consider the particular strengths and weaknesses of each individual when deciding on diagnosis and treatment. It’s never been a one-size-fits-all system the way that Western medicine is, and Western medicine would do well to try to copy this approach. With the advent of individual genetic testing, that time may be coming soon. I would say it’s about time.

The Incredible Resilience Of women

The halls are quiet, and virtually empty as we enter the nursing home, but every once in awhile, a nurse slips in and out of room. She must be doing the rounds this afternoon, quickly checking in on all the patients to make sure they’re alright. Though we’ve never met, she greets us with a smile and a quick “hello” as we pass.

When we turn the corner and enter my mother’s room, we are not surprised to find her in her usual spot – sitting in her wheelchair by her desk, working on a craft of some sort. Though she looks pitiably uncomfortable, with a back now permanently bent from osteoporosis, and fingers stiffened and uncooperative with Parkinson’s Disease, she works happily, with a patient deliberation that never ceases to amaze me.

For the last 22 years, my mother has been battling Parkinson’s disease, a large enough expanse of time that she is now one of the longest survivors of the disease in Canada. She was only 60 when she was diagnosed, after falling off a ladder while washing windows. Since she was otherwise completely healthy, her diagnosis came as a bit of a shock to all of us, and plunged her into a bout of denial for a few years. As I’ve watched her gracefully navigate this challenging condition over the years, I’ve wondered if her longevity hinges on those two basic facts: her relative youth when diagnosed, and her lack of other health problems. Then again, a new study published last January suggests there may be something more to it than that.

After analyzing historical information from seven different populations over a period of 150 years, researchers In Denmark and Germany have found that women have a distinct survival advantage over men. At first glance, this information may not sound surprising at all ; we’ve long known that women tend to outlive men. But that’s during normal circumstances. In this study, they were looking at abnormal conditions of crisis, particularly during periods of starvation, disease, and slavery. Their study included data from the Irish potato famine (1845-1849), the measles epidemics in Iceland (1846 and 1882), and plantation slaves in Trinidad (at the beginning of the 19th century). Here, once again, it was found that women tend to outlive men.

The reason this is so noteworthy is because times of crisis also tend to be times when women are neglected. Historically, parents have been more willing to seek treatment for sick little boys when there is an epidemic, but not so much for sick little girls. When food is scarce, it’s the little boys who are fed first, and the girls get the leftovers, if there are any. So, why is it that a girl’s chance of survival is still higher despite these significant disadvantages?

Researchers point to biology, and to the hormone estrogen in particular. Estrogen is known to have protective effects on the immune system, while testosterone is more of an immunity suppressor. There are also the well-known protective effects on the heart that estrogen provides. Testosterone, on the other hand, tends to lead men into trouble, making them more reckless, with a greater chance of accidental or violent death. It also makes them more likely to smoke, drink, and take psychoactive drugs. Then, there is also the fact that girls have two X chromosomes, whereas boys have only one. In this case, if there is any damage to one of a girl’s X chromosomes, the other can fill in the gaps. But boys have just one X and one Y, and therefore no back-up in the case of bad genetic mutation.

There may be even more to it than that. In another study published earlier this year from researchers at Lehigh University and Queen’s University in Belfast, it was found that women also tend to make better leaders during times of crisis. Because when everything falls apart, people tend to get angry and point fingers of blame, which can disintegrate feelings of social cohesion and lead to failure. In addition to their biology, women also have relational strengths, which help them manage other’s emotions, defuse tensions, reappraise the situation more positively, and redirect negative attention elsewhere. This allows groups to establish or repair trust, which is crucial for maintaining group solidarity during a challenging event, and makes survival more likely. Women are also generally seen as more trustworthy, and so are better able to maintain feelings of goodwill between groups, and obtain necessary resources from others.

Damien Mander, a trainer for park rangers in the Phundundu Wildlife Area in Zimbabwe has taken note of these advantages and put them to good use. Because of rampant trophy hunting, rangers of African game parks must essentially act as combat soldiers, and Mander has spent the last ten years looking for good prospective hires. Over the years, he has learned that women can make better rangers than men. For one, they are less susceptible to bribery from poachers. They are also more adept at de-escalating violent situations, making attempts at conciliation before using their weapons. They are also more likely to bring their income back to their families instead of spending it on themselves, which is of greater economic benefit to the region.

And as it turns out, they’re also tougher. A former special forces soldier from Australia, Mander has trained countless recruits, both male and female, subjecting them to days of nonstop exercises to see how well they perform while wet, cold, hungry and tired. Of the 37 female potential recruits he recently trained for the park ranger program, only three quit, and 16 were eventually hired. Meanwhile, after a similar course for 189 men, almost all of them quit after the very first day. Only three remained to continue the program. It’s this particular brand of female resilience that I’m referring to, this incredible endurance that so many of the women I know possess which inspires me.

Women may not have the muscular strength and power of men, but we more than make up for it in other ways. We just don’t quit. Despite being discriminated against, harassed, and neglected, we just keep showing up and finishing whatever jobs we start. Men may rage, burn out, and walk away, but women trudge onward, building solidarity and support wherever we can, collecting other stragglers, and bringing them with us as we go.

And so, I often find myself moved when I visit my mother. For, despite the weakness of her fingers, and her growing lack of co-ordination, she soldiers on with a smile on her face. She glues lace around supportive cards for the nursing home staff, she cuts out colourful hearts and tapes them to her wall, and she greets all visitors with a big hug, despite whatever pain or discomfort she may be in. Like women everywhere, my mother is a survivor. In fact, she’s more than a survivor, she’s simply incredible.