I followed this man with avocadoees on his head for a quite a while. I couldn’t help but notice that his sweat and his deep breaths to keep up his step added a sense of beauty that took me by surprise.

There are parts of San José, that if broken down ascetically, are what a critic could call unsightly or down right ugly. Yet in each snapshot of life, there is something beautiful to behold.His efforts could make the harshest of critics take note.

Plus, five avodaoes - and they were a pretty good size - for 1000 colones (about $2.00) was a very good price.

Coco brings me a drawing every day. She folds it, usually backward, and puts: To MAMA on one line, and then LOVE COCO underneath.

Where ever I am, I have to unfold it and study it. There is usually long story behind the photo. She’s been working on the idea of perspective in drawing: What’s close is bigger; what’s farther away is smaller. I’ve taught her this joke that was on Kid’s in the Hall. (Great show if you’ve never seen it. Hopefully Internet world could make these shows live again.) I digress…..

On the show, Mr. Tyzik (Dave Foley) would “crush” people with his finger. If he’d get mad or frustrated with someone, or even for a little harmless fun, he’d eye someone far away and “pinch” him between his thumb and forefinger.

“I’m crushing you!” he’d say, with a long rolling “rrrrrr” sound.

So Coco and I drive around crushing things - without the mean intent; we’d be in it to gain a little perspective - the closer the object, the bigger the pinch. The sun, oh so far away, we can usually crush with a quick pinch. She’s gotten down the “rrrrrrr” part too. Since she’s bilingual, she can roll a mean “rrrrrrrr.” A building in the distance takes a bigger pinch, and so on.

The latest picture was of a bird flying home to the babies in the nest. The mother was close to us as was the rose bush with one blooming rose. The babies were far away, but not such a distance that we could crush them. Their little eyes peeked out of a hole in the tree, waiting for their MAMA. And, she always comes home to the nest. From Coco’s perspective, this is the absolute truth. I guess as close as I loom in her large in her psyche, I present a bigger perspective, perhaps, than I really am. As she grows away, to be her own, she’ll look back, from a distance and hold me right between her finger and thumb.

Note: This story first went on-line in 2007.
We still enjoy a good round of crushing here
and there, especially on long rides in the car.

A friend gave me a video called Crazy Sexy Cancer, a documentary about Kris Carr’s decision to battle cancer through a holistic approach. The movie was given to me by a friend who’s son also has Down Syndrome. We tend to bond over intestines, muscle tissue, snot, and how to sneak kale into a child’s diet. She gave me the film after both of us read The PH Miracle.

Watching movies is a pleasure sunken deep at the bottom of my “to-do” list. But with the help of my laptop, I watched the film while cooking and doing dishes over a several day period.

In this new world of reality television where people are pleased and thrilled to hoot, holler, and expose the most trivial parts of their life in front of a camera for the ego-boosting thrill of the camera, Kris’s documentary was a film set apart. As I watched her journey through diagnosis to several years later, I was struck at how she had the energy to deal with such a devastating diagnosis. Yet as I finished the film, I realized I was more struck by willingness of Kris to show the challenging, down-and-dirty, in-the-mud feelings of what it’s like to try to reverse a lifetime of probably not-so-good food choices mixed in with not really understanding why cancer should be dished out to anyone.

I’ve could relate to so much of the film as I too wondered why I got all these “things” in my life: Divorce, Down Syndrome, financial challenges; surgeries (for me and my son); teeth problems; and on and on. Before PH Miracle and Crazy Sexy Cancer, I ate a lot of vegetables. But I also drank a lot of coffee and “frappie” coffee drinks and chocolate and anything made of salty, warm, toasted carbohydrates. In the middle of my juicing, I ate a lot of things that didn’t let all that great organic juice do it’s thing.

I still fail. Regularly. In fact my kids just came back from a party with that dreaded pinata, and there I stood again in front of the refrigerator wondering if a bag of Tootsie Rolls was worth it. Yet, I do tend to win more than I lose of late. Juicing, avocado smoothies, exercise, and probably the most important of all - approaching the day with excitement - are recipes for inching forward a little bit every day in a quest to become healthy, wealthy, and perhaps wise.

After all the diets, theories, regimenes, and ideas of how to live the best life, I’ve had to come up with one of the most important theories of all: I am not sure anyone really knows all the answers, yet all make a good point about something. I sense that we all need to formulate a plan that works best for us. There are some pretty obvious “don’t” out there like don’t drink too much; drugs are out; two loaves of bread probably not good; and bacon fat a definite “gonner.” Too much of any diet or “magic bullet” can turn us into drill sergeant freaks where we forget perhaps the most important ingredient in any diet: Love, empathy, sharing, and a good old-fashioned zest for life.

Kris’s film captured a lot of this idea. In the end, she offered a lot of tips and ideas to help our own journey towards better health. Plus, her blog does the same. Check it out if you can carve a minute between meals.

My daughter runs screaming when it starts to ripen. My brows furrow when I begin to cut into it: Noni. Perhaps the most horribly disgusting smelling and tasting fruit could be one of the best out there.

Said to be to have a range of health benefits for colds, cancer, diabetes, asthma, hypertension, pain, skin infection, high blood pressure, mental depression, atherosclerosis and arthritis.
It contains antibacterial compounds in the fruits; is said to inhibit the growth of Escherichia coli, which is responsible for intestinal infections, and Heliobacter pylori, which causes ulcers. In addition to eating the fruit, the roots, leaves, and flowers are also eaten. A few of the many other benefits touted are that it revitalizes the cells, restores energy, purifies the blood, stimulates the immune system, relieves pain, and is a potent antioxidant.

For years, I saw the fruit hanging from the bushy tree or rotting in the sand on the beach. One of my nannies would gleefully toss any that had yet to start to rot into the fold of her dress. I watched with scepticism and fear. First of all, the fruit stinks. A good metaphor eludes me, but perhaps the idea of a moldy, once-sweaty, sock stuffed with rotting brocoli might do it?

Noni is said to be used by the Polynesians and other tropical cultures for 2000 years. Not long after I arrived in Costa Rica, the popularity of the fruit - and all it’s health claims - hit the market. I go sceptical again. I’ve watched fruit loved and hated by nutritionists, alternative health experts, and the media. It gets confusing what to think.

I “re”-stumbled onto Noni after reading about it’s benefits in Dr. Young’s book, The PH Living Miracle. He says, and many others, there’s just too much sugar in fruit (had to be a reason it tasted so good!). Thus, the trouble with Noni - it tastes horrible. Disgusting in fact, so it has to be really good for us.

I decided to give it a try, but it made no sense buying it in a bottle when it grows on trees down here. My organic supplier delivered, I think, five kilos (I hit the wrong key on the order button! I meant to get a kilo.) It turned out to be a good lesson in the ripening of Noni and how to serve it. At first, I peeled off the brown bumps. This lead to very little juice. Now, I let it ripen and through the whole thing in a blender and pulse as not to break up the seeds. After straining, the consistency is like applesauce.*

When I first gave it to Addison, it bubbled back out of his mouth like a baby trying the first bite of “chicken and peas” from a jar. Now, it’s a bit of a science. I add a few drops of green, mint clorophyll, two drops of stevia and he actually eats it right up. We both take about 1/8 cupin the morning and the same at night. My daughter? Forget about it. She’ll have to discover it someday on her own.**

So, we’ve found another wonderful reason to call this paradise: A horrible, disgusting fruit that may save your life. If you can get it down that is. Figures.

*Noni is available in bottles at most grocery stores and health stores like Bio Salud in bottles. Many grocery stores do carry the fruit, fresh.
**Some have reported to vomit upon tasting it. No joke. 

I reached out and touched it. Didn’t want to. Had that squeamish reaction, and I squealed just like a child. It wasn’t as bad as I thought. Funny thing is, those things we fear are never worse than we imagine in the first place.

Living in the “paradise” of Costa Rica for over a decade, I have not figured out how to keep out life’s regular, old, everyday challenges like car breakdowns, colds, aches, and pains (of all sorts). Perhaps a bit of paradise is finally figuring out how to navigate all these obstacles with a different mind set than when I arrived.

Einstein said something like: We can’t solve the problem we have with the mind we got it with. So as I stumbled around, hoping I had a new brain set, I got a whopper of a sinus infection. Relate? The head falling off thing? Knives in the temple which, upon whim, move about the skull during the day? We all seemed to get it, or some form of it. And other details shall be left to the imagination.

Anyway, we all have to go on. Groceries need to be shopped for; kids readied for bed; car needs gas; bills need paying. In the midst of crossing my eyes to see straight, I misplaced my camera. I know it will show it, but I will have to find some creative way to take photos until then.

And for this episode, perhaps it’s best I leave all to the imagination.

Something so rare and wonderful happened. This story will make no headlines, yet it’s impact travel for miles. This simple story shows how life can be made better - around the world and in an instant. Pretty it’s not.

A few weeks ago back when Addison was in the hospital, he grew a lot stronger after the first few days. An I.V. in his leg kept us from using the bathroom. We were given a bed pan. For some reason, the illness did not effect his digestive system. Addison became famous for shouting and welcoming the food cart with glee. Comida! He’d say as he wiggled his hands by his mouth. And several times a day, that food made it’s way back out again.

One morning as the rush of sheet changing and bathing bustled about the ward, Addison needed to go to the bathroom. Quickly. I stood him up, and he got to work. Thinking he was finished, I covered the bed pan so I could dump it out later. I began to finish dressing him, when the second load (if you know what I mean) came down. The large deposit landed on my arm and the just cleaned sheets. Nurses began barking commands at me to get organized, explaining that the dump needed to be dealt with. (I needed an explanation on this??!!)

Anyway… I stood there with Addison unable to move because if I set him down, he’d be swimming in it. I couldn’t reach the bed pan. I looked across the isle to one of our ward “mates.” This single mother and I bonded often over drugs, exams, and finding the best position to get some sleep. She quickly came over when my eyes pleaded for help. She found the wet wipes and grabbed the bed pan so I could scoop up the problem. Once corralled, I stood with the goods in my hand and finally set Addison down. We’d have to change sheets again, but at least the worst was over.

Then, without being told or asked, the woman’s son from across the isle came to me and asked me if he could dump the contents of the pan out for me. He was ten. In a second I dropped to the size of a pea. Would I do that? He happily walked down the hall, cleaned the contents, and slid the pan under the bed upon his return.

Headline: Ten Year Old Dumps Out Another Child’s Bedpan. Riveting, perhaps not. But it was life changing for me. When I think I give until it hurts, so often in Costa Rica I am put back in my place when, yet again, another person offers me something I’d never expect. I try to live by that example and hope that some day I’ll have the courage to dump out some one’s bed pan, someone I don’t even know. I can’t help but think that’s the stuff that will turn our world into a real paradise.

I could never really thank the woman and her son. It seemed like such a small way to repay such a heartening kindness. We spent a few more days together, talking, being bored together, and wondering when we could go home.

(As a side note: Addison here is very bored with his food and sighed between each bite, which turned the meal into an almost two hour process!).

They finally went home. I hoped to never return. The boy was thrilled and proud his mother was going to take a the $20.00 taxi ride home. A big bite out of their food budget, I was sure. The ten year old looked back one last time and said: Addison. Throwing up his thumb and smiling on his way out. This kid changed a little bit of the world and would never know it.

Watching a child toddle off to school after a long battle in the hospital ranks as perhaps one of the deepest joys imaginable. And, though a two week stay in the Hospital de Niños of Costa Rica was not a place I ever wanted to be - or any hospital for that matter - it was more than worth the time spent.

My discomfort was nothing compared to the pain I saw many families going through as they sat by the beds of the children, wiping up the sweat and vomit and emptying bed pans. Though we all wished for a comfortable bed to sleep on, each mother knew that it was nothing. Nothing, for it was for their child.

Every child born in Costa Rica has the right to medical treatment. Period. No child is turned away. And as I watched each child go through their treatment for whatever ailed them, I also saw an incredible patience by the medical team to be sure no one was sent home less healthy than when they arrived. The nurses have their hands full. That’s where parents must take a part in the care. There’s just not enough money for all the benefits of a private hospital to go around.  And what seems like an eternity of sleepless nights and drugs and waiting for blood results to arrive quickly becomes a moment, a story recounted in the past.

Addison pointed at the picture of his class this morning and squealed with so much excitement, we had to keep a close eye that he wouldn’t try to jump out the window to get to his morning bus. That’s the moment the long haul turned into a flash of light and lit up a new life to come.

Whether in Costa Rica or New York, we’ve got to bring with us our stuff. No matter what stage of my life I’ve been in, I seem to always be hauling a cart. On the airplane, I’ve always got more to pull along than others. I’m amazed at those with the single fanny pack. I admire people who get it all in one bag. I even had a job once that ran out of office space when it came to me, they gave me a cart. Just find a space that’s open I was told.

With my car in for another adjustment, I pull my orange cart out and take it from the kid’s school to the grocery store to the pharmacy. One night, a rat crawled into my garage and must have discovered something I’d neglected to take out of the bag after shopping. The little rodent chewed a huge hole right through the bottom. Now, I’ve got to be sure I don’t put a wandering avocado on the bottom.

Few people stop for pedestrians in Costa Rica. Being pregnant or crippled doesn’t always add to the advantage either. Having a cart surely gets no exceptions. I have to fight my way across like the rest of the world as I lug my stuff to it’s next stop.

I go through phases or trying to downsize and get sleek. It never seems to work. Between diapers and snacks and water and my camera and…..I’ll be pulling more than my share for a while to come.

This blog has suffered in the last few days due to the operator’s pain in the neck. I dislike when my kids get colds. Who doesn’t?  With Addison, it’s an extra challenge as the child can produce more phlegm than I thought possible for a horse.

Usually, I by-pass the colds and sickness the last few years and end up getting up in the middle of the night to un-stuff noses. I’d be a little tired but able to manage. This time, whatever he got, I got. And boy does it suck. So I’m trying to practice positive thinking by pretending it’s not there while I pop another Tylenol.

So, this is short, and I’ll be back as soon.