Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Annals of Medicine: Oregano Oil to the Resuce



I skipped #5amWritersClub today for the first time in a long, long time because I feel I'm battling an epic illness. I'm calling it epic because I've seen kids go down with it at school, and it looks ugly. To be fair, there are several strains of epicness going around. They all seem dire, and I keep getting emails from people that say things like, "Maybe I'll be back tomorrow, but maybe not."

So, yesterday when I came home with a bad headache and pains in my legs, I quickly rolled oregano oil all over the soles of my feet and took a power nap. I doused my feet again before bed, and again this morning when I woke up.

You might be feeling skeptical about the healing powers of oregano oil, and I used to be with you. But, no longer. Now, I'm totally convinced that if you rub diluted oregano oil on your feet every four hours while suffering from symptoms, those symptoms will be shorter lived and less severe. 

My family doesn't quite believe me, but they don't protest all that much when I ask them to take off their socks. I think we all know deep down that if you do the oregano thing, you won't become as sick as you might have. There are scientific reasons, but do we really care? I mean, in case you do, it's because oregano is high in phenols or something, which are anti-bacterial. It also has thymol and anti-oxidants. 

But, regardless of all of that, you can actually get a little roller bottle of diluted oregano oil at your local co-op for less than ten dollars, which is better than missing work and feeling awful.

Oregano oil to the feet! I'll keep you posted.

Thursday, February 8, 2018

Always Be Prepared

On Tuesday morning, I took Mac to the orthodontist's office. This is where we all smile politely at each other, the staff inflicts pain on my children, and I pay eleven-thousand dollars for them to do it.

Despite the nature of our relationship with the orthodontist, Mac and I were pretty content in the waiting room, just playing a game on my phone called Yazy. It's Yahtzee without the copyright, and I was winning.

Anyway, a kid came out of the torture chamber and tapped his dad, sitting across from us, on the shoulder.

"All done?" said the dad.

"Yep," said the kid. He grimaced a little bit, teeth flashing metal.

The dad stood up and something clattered to the floor. Neither he nor the kid noticed.

"Sir," I said, without looking, "you've dropped something." I stood up to grab it for him, planning to hand it up. But when I lunged toward it, I realized it was a huge knife.

A long, sharp knife! Like a hunting knife!

I paused.

"Oh," said the dad, and then realizing, "oh, geez!" He grabbed the knife and collapsed it and shoved it back into his pocket. I looked at his shoes. He didn't thank me for pointing out that he'd dropped a dangerous weapon in the lobby of the orthodontist's office.

I glanced over at him a few more times as we walked back toward the work stations. He seemed both sheepish and angry, like I might report to the over-friendly receptionist that he was packing. I didn't tattle, but I thought about it. Doesn't the orthodontist's office ban weapons? Why would that guy need the very sharp knife? Perhaps he was planning on negotiating a new payment plan?

It's not that I don't understand the impulse. But, violence is never the way.