July 10, 2015
Is it impossible to rid the body of chronic disease when poison leaches from the mouth?
Could crowns with underlying layer of toxic metals weaken the immune system?
#UncoveringTheMystery #MyMetalBasedCrowns #HeavyMetalToxins
#MyPersonalHealthJourney #ZirconiaCrownsExist
I feel that the stem cell treatment from the Bahamas is doing its job and in the weeks that follow, my overall health is slowly improving. I gain a little muscle mass, my hair stops falling out, my skin looks better, and I seem to have less inflammation in my body. I’m not ready to put on my dancing shoes or shake my booty, but it’s enough of an improvement to FaceTime with Dr. Feng to talk about moving forward with my explant surgery. It’s booked for August 5, just one month away. I am counting the days! It feels good to be excited, and I am hopeful for a chance at a healthy future. Even though I’ve learned a lot about patience over the years and greatly respect my body’s natural healing clock, I’m dying to get these implants out of my chest. Anwar calls them “roadblocks.” What I once viewed as a very sexual part of my body now feels like a huge obstacle to my healing and to living my life. I’m still dealing with an array of symptoms that come, go, and spike at random times, like severe gut issues, recurring bladder infections, insomnia, intense tremors, cramping of my hands and feet, bad eyesight, migraines, and my brain dysfunction. Still, there is no weakness in my spirit and I pray for the strength to get through the days until my surgery.
Around mid-July, David and I go on a ten-day boat trip to British Columbia, our favorite place in the world, with my mom, sisters-in-law, and their husbands. We’re trying to sprinkle the summer with joy and the simple things that we once loved. I hate that I still can’t find the right words to have meaningful conversations with those around me, but I’m happy to sit on the couch and spend time with the people I adore. Since I got sick, traveling has been more of a challenge than a vacation. Sadly, when you don’t feel well, being in the most beautiful location in the world somehow loses its value. However, this trip is exactly what the doctor ordered. I’ve never felt more thankful for a vacation and the ability not only to see but also to feel life’s beauty. Because I’m still most comfortable in small spaces, the boat is the perfect space for me, where I can just be myself with my family. There’s no pressure to go to fancy restaurants, do any major activities, or even leave the boat. Instead, we do simple things like play cards, watch movies, and just hang out and enjoy the views and magnificent nature that forms the backdrop to our days. Taking a break from the long-term seriousness of my life and reconnecting with nature is nourishing. It gives me newfound energy for the upcoming chapter of my health journey and it reminds David and me of the connection we have always shared in the silence of nature, away from the pressure and influences of real life. It gives me a sliver of hope that my marriage can be salvaged.
July 30, 2015
My soul is invigorated, and I am in
fighting spirit to attack one more time.
#MyHealthJourney #ChronicLymeDisease #SearchingForACure
Never felt more thankful for seeing life’s beauty …
#BreathTaking #EaglesNest #DesolationSound
Chapter Fourteen
I MAY NOT “LOOK” SICK ON THE OUTSIDE, BUT ON THE INSIDE, IT’S LIKE MY BODY IS TRYING TO KILL ME.
I’m filled with excitement and fear as I count the days until my explant surgery. My mom comes back to L.A. after our trip in British Colombia and will stay with me until I leave for Cleveland, Ohio. The days leading up to my surgery are a quiet but meaningful time with my mom and children at the house in Malibu. Gigi, who loves to cook, makes our family’s favorite tomato soup and grilled cheese dippers, which we’re planning to eat on our peaceful and private little terrace above the lemon orchard. My mom and I make our way to the terrace before the kids join us. It’s a beautiful afternoon and we snuggle up together in the warm summer air with the breathtaking ocean views in front of us. I never want to bother or worry her, but sometimes you just need your mom to tell you that everything is going to be okay. Throughout my life, my mom has been an outstanding example of strength in troubled times, something I need from her right about now.
“What do you think about the surgery?” I ask her.
“I think that everything is going to be okay, sweetheart,” she says, tearing up.
“It’s scary. But I just want to be healthy and alive again so that I can get out of bed, live my life, and see my babies grow up.” We stop talking once the children arrive. After enjoying our lunch, I pull a large manila envelope out from underneath the table.
“You guys…” I pause. “I printed this out for you.”
“What is it?” Gigi asks.
“It’s my will.” I prepared it weeks ago but never found the right moment to present it to the kids. Somehow it feels easier with my mom by my side.
“I don’t like how you say that so calmly, Mommy,” Gigi says.
“I’m saying it calmly because it’s important. Nothing’s going to happen to me, but I just want you guys to know that this will be in the safe.” My life was never the same after my father died, so I’ve always been very conscientious about being prepared. Plus, in the past six months leading up to my surgery, I’ve grown afraid and worried about potentially dying: What happens if I die? What’s going to happen to my children? Who is going to take care of my mother and brother? In my head, I was well prepared for this conversation, but in the actual moment it’s difficult, and I stumble over my words.
“I just want to make sure you guys take care of Oma,” I say to the children.
“Why are you talking about this right now?” Bella asks, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Yeah, I don’t know why you’re talking about the surgery as if something’s going to happen, because if fifty-one percent of you feels like something is going to go wrong, then I don’t think you should do it,” Gigi says wisely.
“Gigi, nothing is going to happen, I just—”
“Then why are you showing us your will?” Bella interrupts.
“Because it’s important, Bella. Very important,” I say. “I’m going to be fine. Dr. Feng has done more than nine thousand surgeries like mine and nothing has ever gone wrong. I just want to make sure that my business is in order. It’s my duty as your mother.”
I put three children on this planet, and I take that responsibility very seriously. When my brother and I turned twenty-one, we each received money that our father left us in his will. Although it was a very small sum at a time when I was already financially established, it was the greatest gift I ever received to know that my daddy, who was only twenty-nine years old when he died, loved and cared for us so much that he figured out a way to leave us a little something. So I know from experience that this uncomfortable conversation will one day be appreciated.
The evening before I leave for Cleveland is beautiful. The kids and I snuggle up, eat popcorn, and watch a movie. I feel so content having them all in one place, just like old times, when the girls were still living at home. It helps calm me and even though I feel positive about the surgery and act strong in front of them, deep inside I’m scared. In the morning, while Alberto drives David and me to the airport, mixed emotions and nervous energy surge through me. Part of me is worried about my body being strong enough to make it through the explant procedure. On the other hand, I have a do-or-die attitude. I can’t wait to get these foreign things out of my body. The protocols for Lyme, co-infections, and parasites are still a mystery at times, but having my implants removed is a black-and-white issue. I honestly don’t care that my breasts are going to be flat like pancakes with raisins on top. I already let go of any emotional attachment I ever had to them and, to be completely honest, I’m kind of embarrassed and disappointed with myself, knowing that, at one time, I allowed my sexuality to be based on those fake things. What a lack of judgment and intelligence. Who ever decided that we needed big breasts to be sexy?
And how stupid was I to believe that? Why is superficial or augmented beauty revered over natural beauty? I want my daughters to know that beauty really is unique and in the eye of the beholder. We’re not meant to be perfect or look the same. I’ve always known this deep in my heart, yet I went along with what society expected of me. Like millions of other women, I was brainwashed to believe that elective procedures are safe and acceptable, yet many studies prove that they can be very dangerous to your health and slowly steal the quality of your life. I consider getting implants the number-one screw-up in my life, and I’m not proud of it. But I’m well aware and grateful for the opportunity and resources to travel all the way to Ohio for this procedure and to hopefully undo the damage I’ve inflicted on myself.
After a four-and-a-half-hour flight, David, Daisy, and I arrive in Cleveland. We go straight to the hotel, have a quick bite to eat, and are off to bed because we have an early appointment with Dr. Feng at her clinic. I’m excited to finally meet her in person. Her calm and kind demeanor instantly puts me at ease. I’m confident that Dr. Feng is the best doctor in the world when it comes to explant surgery. She’s done many studies and testified in trials.
“Even if an implant doesn’t break and is in its perfect form, does it still leak toxins?” I ask Dr. Feng
“Let me show you.” She takes a brand-new silicone implant out of its original package and puts it on her desk. “Let’s keep talking and we’ll look at this in a little while.”
About half an hour later, she lifts up the silicone implant and points to the residue on the surface of her dark-colored desk.
“That is just after half an hour,” she says. “Imagine what it’s like after years and years of those chemicals inside your warm body!” I’m amazed, yet not surprised. It all makes sense.
“Dr. Kahn is waiting for you, to do the ultrasound mapping,” she says. “This will locate exactly where you have the free-floating silicone, which will help guide me during surgery tomorrow.”
It’s a beautiful August day as we drive to my appointment with Dr. Kahn, whose office is in the Cleveland Clinic. Wow, the Cleveland Clinic is impressive. It’s like its own city. It’s got a coffee shop, pharmacies, a hotel. At the appointment, Dr. Kahn runs the ultrasound over my bare chest. He points out the shadows on the screen that are the free-floating silicone. Then he takes a blue marker and marks these areas on my skin.
“Don’t shower tonight,” he says. “Just go back to the hotel, rest, and I’ll see you right before the surgery when I’ll mark these areas with needles for Dr. Feng.”
As I walk out of the hospital, I need to just sit on the earth and get grounded.
“You keep walking,” I tell David and Daisy. “I’ll meet you in the car.” I plant myself on the grass with my back against a brick wall, feeling overwhelmed. I need to marinate for a minute and digest what just happened. Ten minutes later, I walk to the car. As I open the door, Daisy looks up from her phone.
“Yo, the lab report for your teeth has come back,” she says. “They confirmed that your crowns that were supposed to be pure porcelain are actually mixed with zinc, gallium, palladium, silver, indium, tin, gold aluminum, copper, and ruthenium.”
When I hear this, I actually have a little meltdown. I don’t think I can handle one more thing. I don’t even know why I’m crying. I’m feeling joy for answers, yet feeling sorry for myself that I’ve been fighting all these obstacles that people told me didn’t exist. It feels like it is little me against the whole world. At the same time, I’m really proud of myself for sticking to my guns as I fought for the truth every step of the way.
We have a nice dinner and get to bed early. I need to rest before going to the battlefield tomorrow. At 7 A.M., we go back to Dr. Kahn at the Cleveland Clinic. He places the needles that will guide Dr. Feng to the exact locations of the floating silicone during surgery. I look like a porcupine. What a trip. I never even knew all this existed.
“I’m going to be a toothless, boobless, brainless wonder,” I say with a smile on my face, goofing around in the car as we make our way to Dr. Feng’s office. I’m trying to make light of the situation. Of course, we need to stop at Starbucks. I’m probably the only person who has coffee before surgery with needles sticking out of her body, but this rebellious ritual is comforting to me. Yes, I’m nervous, but I’m very ready to take on this devil stuck in my chest. I’m hopeful that this is the answer.
Once in bed inside the pre-op room, I FaceTime the kids to say I love them and then say good-bye to David. Daisy slips on some scrubs because she will be in the operating room with me, along with the Housewives film crew, who will capture this procedure on camera. Some people say, “Why would you let them film that and put it on the show?” The answer is simple: I have daughters, nieces, and girlfriends with young daughters. If I can stop even one teenage girl from making the stupid and potentially unhealthy decision to get breast implants, it’s reason enough for me to share. It’s important for all woman to know the truth about breast implants. Education is crucial. If I’d had the proper information about this procedure in my midtwenties, I would have made a very different decision. So I feel very confident about sharing this part of my journey even though it is judged.
The surgery turns out to be almost eight hours long, something that no one, not even Dr. Feng, anticipated. When I wake up in the recovery room, I start crying when I see David.
“Hi, baby,” he says. “It’s done. It’s over. You’re finished. All that stuff is out.” He’s right, and even though I’m feeling extremely sore, I’m thrilled to be alive. Wooooohooooo. I made it through! Dr. Feng comes to check on me.
“Everything went really, really well, but this was one of the most difficult cases I’ve ever worked on,” she says with tears in her eyes. And she’s done thousands! “It was like a marathon because there was so much silicone from the previous ruptured implant. The silicone granulomas went all the way up to your clavicle bone. I removed as much as I possibly could.”
After several hours in the recovery room, the nurses bandage me up and I go back to the hotel. David has an appointment with a heart specialist early the next morning, so he asks Daisy to have me sleep in her room. We are all exhausted but we don’t sleep very much because my pain is unbearable—a nine on a scale of one to ten. It’s like a cannon was shot into my chest. And the drains from my breasts have to be emptied every two to three hours. David did this gracefully on camera for the Housewives, but he left the off-camera, late-night care to Daisy. A health advocate usually doesn’t nurse people around the clock, but I’m so grateful that Daisy’s by my side to help me manage the unbearable pain. I’ve only known her for a couple of months, but we’ve gone through a whirlwind of experiences together already. After all, when you are naked, bleeding, and throwing up in front of someone, you can’t help but get close very quickly. It’s amazing that Daisy chose to sit through all eight hours of the surgery.
“What was it like?” I ask.
“Fascinating. Right at the start, the heart monitor and ventilator showed your breathing curve was off. In fact, the anesthesiologist asked me if you had chronic obstructive pulmonary disease or emphysema,” Daisy says. “Yet as soon as Dr. Feng lifted the silicone implants out of your chest, the curve immediately normalized. It was startling.”
The chronic cough that I’ve had for four years is gone. It must have been the pressure of the implants on my lungs. Two days after my surgery, David is leaving for New York and Daisy has to get home to her family and other clients, so Paige flies to Cleveland to care for me. Having raised three children with confidence, Paige takes control of the situation.
“Hello, sweetheart, here I am. There’s a new sheriff in town,” she jokes when she arrives. But she’s no joke. She quickly gets familiar with my medication log and drain-emptying schedule. Paige is so funny and despite all my pain, she’s able to make me laugh.
The next morning, I wake up shivering and very nauseous.
“You’ve been on
pain medication too long,” Paige says, even though it’s only been two days. She orders me a pot of tea from room service, which I hold between my legs for warmth. She gives me two Advil. Forty-five minutes later though, I’m burning up with a 102-degree fever, and Paige’s always-smiling face looks serious.
“Okay, maybe I was wrong and this isn’t withdrawal. I think it’s an infection,” she says as she calls Dr. Feng. I’m in a lot of pain and dripping with sweat and scared. Although Paige is trying to act calm, I know her well enough to know that she’s worried. “Dr. Feng said to come to her office.”
The night before, Dr. Feng had kindly lent us her gorgeous black car. As we drive, I have these intense waves of nausea washing over me. When Paige stops at a four-way intersection, I can’t wait one more minute. I open the door to projectile vomit, conscious about not wanting to get one drop of my disgusting vomit on the beautiful tan leather interior. Paige moves over to the right side of the road, driving with the door open. When I finish, I look up at Paige. We both start laughing hysterically. Our sisterhood has exceeded far beyond anything we could have ever imagined the day we met at the Santa Monica car wash so many years ago!
August 7, 2015
Turn a mess into a message … We might have hit the jackpot
by finding all this silicone through ultrasound mapping,
as shown in this selfie. Thank you, Dr. Feng, for holding my hand and leading the way.
Believe Me Page 24