Censoring the selfie

So i woke today looking like the daughter of the elephant man. One eye was reduced to a watery slit encased in a swollen, angry eye socket. So instead of flying to Townsville today, spending the evening at a lovely hotel, going out for dinner with colleagues tonight, I’ve stayed at home all day, except for am emergency dash to my doctor and a pharmacy. Incognito.

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We wake early in these parts so I had plenty of time to take numerous selfies of my disgusting eyeball plus do some self diagnosis. My local GP clinic opens at 8am so I had plenty of time to imagine the worst, look at myself alot and of course utilise the ‘real life’ medical skills I  learnt on House to come up with a cracking diagnosis.  We all know how much our doctors love us when we come in with a mystery illness but have a plethora of possibilities. No Lydia, you were not bitten by a tzetze fly!

I work at a Uni, I know about evidence based practice, health search engines etc.but oh no, in times of personal health crises, there is only Google.  So After searching various words like watery, swollen and eye sockets I spent about half an hour dry wretching and totally grossing myself out looking at images.  Yep, you guessed it, top of the self diagnosis list was ‘pink eye’.  Thanks South Park for bringing this word into my vernacular.  The other fun one was the ‘stye’. There is a medical name for this, but I’ve already forgotten it.  Wasn’t relevant to me, no need to store that in my limited memory bank.

I was pretty sure it was an allergic reaction, it happened really quickly, like about 10 seconds after taking my contacts out before bed.  Dur you say,a good non-doctor always considers all possibilities dear Watson.  But what did I react to?  Naturally I have discussed this topic ad nauseaum with every person I have encountered today.  2 people said shellfish – omg we had prawns for dinner last last and I stabbed myself badly in the finger whilst peeling those spiky buggers.  But we eat prawns like all the time!  I caught 2 moths last night (as an aside, have you noticed that moths only nibble on the nicest fabrics?), I do the catch and release method with a quick dash outside, no kissing and one of them was particularly crumbly.  He left alot of moth dust on my fingers. Have you ever heard of a moth reaction?  No jokes please about the butterfly effect, all over that one.  Other than that, the night was normal.  The wine I had had the night before, a strong cuppa and a piece of kitkat before bed, nothing out of the ordinary.

So back to the title, should I share my disgusting selfies?  I always take photos of myself at my worst, I just never publish them. I always show them to the Gorgeous M, he has a razor sharp sense of humour and is merciless – laughing in the face of imminent death is always a good potion. I usually send them to my glamorous sister (accompanied by a death threat if ever she thinks about sharing it) and friends at work, but I just haven’t had the guts to put them on this glorious blog (as read by about 10 peoples).  Last year I cracked a front crown (front tooth) and the day the dentist drilled off the old crown and revealed the little stump of remaining tooth I made him stop so I could get a few selfies.I even brought props with me to the dental clinic.  He thought I was nuts and kindly hoped that I would never need to return.  I revenged him but, I have a new nicer dentist thank you very much, ha I say!  Don’t ever cross me, I will run and hide from you.

So dear readers, do you self diagnose, are you a hypochondriac and what do you think I may have reacted to?

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Easter Eggs

I thought about eggs alot on Easter Sunday.  And not just the chocolate ones.  I’m very passionate about eggs and decided that it was time for a serious post.  A post on why we should never eat cage eggs.  And then last night on a sunday night program the plight of meat chooks was raised and I knew this post had to be written.  This ain’t gonna be a fun post so feel free to log off now.

The program last night focussed on the issues of humanity.  Do you want to eat chickens that were borne solely to be killed so that we can eat them?  A life with no purpose other than fast growth for human consumption.  And a life lived in a stressful, crowded, dirty environment with no sunlight, no fresh air and the odd dead carcass in the room. Now I’m a softie and a bit silly about animals but I’m sure that most humans living in developed nations like Australia have had a meaningful relationship with an animal.  If you’ve ever loved a dog, cat, horse, guinea pig etc. please have a thought about chickens.

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These were my first three hens, bought as day old chicks in 2006.  The top hen was brave, friendly and really funny.  She looked after her little flock, going so far as to peck my dog on the head if he ever got too close.  She’d puff herself up, hold out her wings and charge him.  A quick peck on the head and he’d back off terrified. They were fun to watch from a comfortable spot on the back deck and great company whenever I did some gardening.  I quickly learnt that each bird had her own personality and they expressed a range of reactions (maybe not emotions?).  To see a hen totally blissed out having a dust bath and lying on her side in the sunshine.  Or the squawk of joy when catching a fat worm.  So in return for the beautiful eggs they produced for me I felt that they deserved a life that would be deemed good for a chook.

This is Pineapple, one of my current hens.  She’s the best looker I’ve ever owned and cannot be contained.  I’ve clipped her wings as low as you can go, but still she can fly.  So she often flies over to the neighbours for some nice grass or goes next door to set up a secretive nest. This chook won’t lay eggs in a nesting box, of no, she has a need for secretive spots where hopefully her eggs will remain hidden.  And once you discover her nest (often with over a dozen eggs in it), she will move it to the next secret location.

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So perhaps you don’t give a s..t about the life of a chook, so may we begin a discussion about health.  Cheap chicken is shit chicken.  I’ve said it, thats just my opinion.  Now when humans want to be healthy they eat good food, exercise, sleep enough, get fresh air, learn how to manage stress etc.  And this effort results in a body that hopefully has some lean muscle, strong bones, not too much fat and is disease free.  So  what about the health of birds that are overfed a diet of processed feed, never get to stretch their wings or run around, that live in an artificially lit environment and are constantly stressed?  They are obese and would probably die young of disease if they were allowed to live beyond 6 weeks of age.  I know that I don’t want to eat obese, unhealthy chicken meat.  The risk of meat borne poisoning are so much higher too when animals are crowded, living in their own excrement and their flesh has wounds/skin ulcers etc. on it.  As do these mass produced birds.

So please have a think about 2 things (sorry for being so preachy today, I promise my next post will be light hearted) – don’t support cage eggs, buying those cheap eggs keeps the industry alive and they are probably crappy eggs.  The chickens live a crappy life so their eggs can’t be anything but crappy.  For the sake of a couple of dollars, it just isn’t worth it.  And finally, if you can, please buy less cheap chicken.  I realise that not every one can afford free range or organic chicken, but if you ate less of the cheap shit, producers wouldn’t need to produce so much of it. The stats on tv last night stated that the average person eats 1kg of chicken per week.  Yikes, no wonder so many people have chronic disease.

Happy Easter and enjoy some chocolate xx