You are not to cross-examine me and pry into my psyche. I don’t understand the reason for this post myself, other than perhaps I’m seeing my daughter at the hospital and feeling a minor sense of nostalgia and once-firm purpose slipped from my grasp. Anyway…
1. A giant salad of fresh cucumber, red pepper, sugar snap peas and diced pickled onions is an excellent way to empty the crisper and use up several vinaigrette salad dressings at once.
2. A brown lentil soup with sweet onion tomatoes, parboiled brown rice and garden vegetables is a delicious way to use up freezer supplies and the last ounce of condiments.
3. We are a pro-condiment family and I will staunchly defend that position until I shuffle from this mortal coil.
4. If you’re plagued with C. difficile and have access to an enema tube, a blender, and a non-infectious-but-slightly-crazy relative or friend, just one fecal transplant might do what months of Vancomycin couldn’t.
5. Next weekend if you’re hosting a dinner, and at a lull in the conversation some inconvenient guest asks, “How does one get C. difficile, anyway?” you will be prepared if you read this brief summary:
- Our bowels are populated with approximately 1000 trillion bacteria, most of which are benign, some of which have crueller intentions. Clostridium difficile falls in the latter category.
- When we take antibiotics, which we tend to do for the most minor of excuses in this society, that antibiotic kills both good and troublesome bacteria.
- Before antibiotics, our gut is like a neighborhood in which criminals or Neo-Nazi elements exist, but are constrained or marginalized by policing and sheer dilution. After antibiotics, they have a proportionately larger share of the streets. They terrorize the good citizens, who eventually walk with their chins tucked to their chests, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, hoping to escape notice.
- A fecal transplant would be like inviting a vast sea of buddies to arrive in a locked-down town. They arrive with determined joviality. They throw their arms over one another’s shoulders and sing as they advance, so that all appears friendly. While their laughter rings out, the “bad” element shrink off to the sidelines.
6. #5 would be true whether your dinner consisted of clean-the-fridge salad and clear-the-freezer soup or something more spendy.
7. That #4 is interesting to me because it’s similar to the modern notion of colic.
- During labor and delivery, infants are supposed to swallow and breath in a quantity of maternal bacteria. They gain even more during breastfeeding, which is far and away better than formula at maintaining gut flora.
- But with high c-section rates and many mothers receiving preventive antibiotics, the transfer is altered. It’s theorized that colic is the result, and that it lasts until finally the gut is colonized by friendly bacteria. In some mothers’ cases, taking an oral probiotic gets the job done faster.
8. My children both had colic. They screamed and arched every night for 4+ hours until they hit 4 months of age. Suddenly, poof! No more issues.
At any point in those 4 months I would have killed for a probiotic if I’d known about them.
Therefor, if I ever get C. difficile, I will be first in line for a poop smoothie.
Just doing my bit to keep you informed, me Zesties. How has your week been? Can you handle the odd health-related post, or does this bore you?
Think carefully before you answer. This kind of stuff is our family-bonding small talk, so I have a lengthy repertoire…