Whale Poop Vital For The Ocean

I just read an article that was written by Wendy Zuckerman in April of 2010 talking about how whale poop is good for the oceans. When whales poop, the poop creates large quantities of iron, which is what helps carbon-sequestering phytoplankton thrive in the Southern Ocean. Studies have shown that iron is "crucial to ocean health because plankton need it to grow. If you add soluable iron to the ocean, you get instant phytoplankton growth." (Quoted by Stephen Nicol of the Australian Antartic Division, based in Kingston, Tasmania)

Nicol's team studied 27 different samples of poop from four different species of baleen whales, and found that on average whale poop had 10 million times as much iron as Antartic seawater. So whale poop will ultimately increase the amount of CO2 that the Southern Ocean can sequester. Who would have thought that whale poop was so valuable and such a wonderful thing?

Harvard also recently did research on whale poop and suggests that the "liquid fecal matter, rich in nutrients, has a huge positive influence on the productivity of ocean fisheries, Joe Roman, a whale biologist from the University of Vermont and his colleague, James McCarthy from Harvard University, have discovered."

Their discovery, published Oct. 11 in the journal PLoS ONE, is what Roman calls a "whale pump." Whales, they found, carry nutrients such as nitrogen from the depths where they feed back to the surface via their feces. This functions as an upward biological pump, reversing the assumption of some scientists that whales accelerate the loss of nutrients to the bottom.
And this nitrogen input in the Gulf of Maine is "more than the input of all rivers combined," they write, some 23,000 metric tons each year.

"It is well known that microbes, plankton, and fish recycle nutrients in ocean waters, but whales and other marine mammals have largely been ignored in this cycle. Yet this study shows that whales historically played a central role in the productivity of ocean ecosystems -- and continue to do so despite diminished populations."

"We think whales form a really important direct influence on the production of plants at the base of this food web," says McCarthy.

"We found that whales increase primary productivity," Roman says, allowing more phytoplankton to grow, which then "pushes up the secondary productivity," he says, of the critters that rely on the plankton. The result: "bigger fisheries and higher abundances throughout regions where whales occur in high densities," Roman says.

"In areas where whales were once more numerous than they are today, we suggest that they were more productive," say McCarthy.

All of this research is evident to me that whales and whale poop play a more prominent role in ecosystems than once believed. I don't think I'll ever be able to look at a whale again without first remarking on their majestic beauty, but to also know that we must keep them safe, so that our oceans will remain healthy.

Up On The Mountain

Several weeks before Thanksgiving, my boyfriend finally talked me into hiking, which if you have IBS and Fibromyaligia, then you know is not something I was looking forward to, or to be honest thought I would actually be able to accomplish. I get winded going up the stairs too fast sometimes and the thought of hiking a freaking mountain no matter the height, scared the hell out of me. But, on the other hand, I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it and I knew my boyfriend, Mr. Adventure loved this kind of stuff and I wanted to be the girlfriend I used to be.

So, I sucked it up, took a double dose of imodium, got my ass out of bed at the crack of dawn and we drove the four hours to Hanging Rock State Park located in western North Carolina. The weather was beautiful and I love the mountains and the fall, so I was in heaven with the fall colors and the crisp breeze. We got there before anyone else and started the hike up Hanging Rock Mountain. I had my fanny pack (yes, don't freaking laugh, I needed toliet paper just in case and water and all that crap) and we made our way up the mountain hand in hand.

The first twenty minutes were great, we walked up a slight incline and as we got higher up the mountain, the paved road turned into a rocky path and that was when I thought to myself, what the fuck have I just got myself into. I couldn't turn back, I couldn't let my chronic illness win, so I pushed on for another thirty minutes pretending that my body was not in agony. I was out of breath and several times, I thought I might hurl. I was obvioulsy out of shape. I ended up having to stop several times to catch my breath and when we finally got there, I was so glad I really considered bowing down and kissing the rock.

Once we got up to the top, it was well worth the agony and I almost cried because I had finally done something I didn't think I could still do, I also wanted to cry because I knew in order to get off this mountain, we had to go back down. We stayed up on the mounatin for a few hours taking in the majestic view. I admit, I was glad that I up there, I was in my element, high up on the mountain, looking down upon the fall leaves on the trees. I was at such peace. I had just wished that I had room in my fanny pack for a notebook and pen.

Right before we headed back down the mountain, just guess what happened next? Yep, I had to shit and I thought, really? There were people everywhere and I was prepared because I had my tiny roll of TP, but really, why on this beautiful mountain? Why now? I tried to talk some sense into my stomach but it would not quit whining, so my boyfriend and I searched for a secret place where I could do the deed and noone would be able to see. I was thinking to myself that my boyfriend and I should be trying to find a place to have hot, mountain sex, but instead we were searching for a shitting spot. This is so messed up. I wanted sex, not shit!

I scaled the tiny side of the back part of the rock and found a small dip in the rock hidden by trees and right there in the middle of the afternoon, I dropped my jeans and did what I had to do, but I have to say, it was the most beautiful scene I ever shit to. It was breathtaking.

After I finished I walked back around the rock and we headed down the mountain as if it was no big thing. I thought about it while walking back down the mouantin, that back in the day when toliets and port-a-potties didn't exist, people did their business in nature. It made me think about the life cycle. And thinking about this made me feel better. I hadn't just shit on a mountaintop, I helped the environment. I helped the ecosystem and I helped the cycle of life go on. Ok, so I know that sounds kind of stupid, but when you shit as much as me, you have to find the silver lining in everything and I had to stop thinking that my TP was not biodigrabale and think that the other part was.

I thought I would call my deed on the mountain, "the life cycle of Christina's shit," and if I ever came back up on this mountain, then I would hopefully seed a plant in the place of where my shit once laid. And so, the cycle of life goes on, or so mine did on the side of Hanging Rock Mountain.

Fibromyalgia and Death

Fibromyalgia and IBS don't take holidays, breaks and don't care what's on your agenda. I have been in extreme physical pain from my chronic illness since November 9th when my best friend, Michelle was admitted to the hospital after collapsing. She had battled stage four lung cancer for over two years and the cancer was winning.

I sat motionless for six days in a hard, hospital chair on the sixth floor looking out on the world around me through autumnal trees and swirling leaves. I watched as my friend slowly faded before me and through it all I was in so much physical pain from my chronic illness that I did my best to shut it from my mind. I had to be strong for her, for her family and for her three year old son, Grayson. I had to set my illness aside, remove the pain from my mind and be there for my friend during her last days on this earth. I wanted my Fibromyalgia to take a holiday and it wouldn't, even to give me few days to be there for my friend.

I sat with her, held her hand, prayed, sung Amazing Grace and even painted her toenails while she lay motionless in extreme pain. I felt bad that she was laying there before me in the dim evening light in so much pain that she could not even speak but only softly moaned when her morphine was wearing off. I thought of all the times that I have cried and complained because I was in pain and hurting but my pain was nothing in comparison to what she was going through that very moment.

I could not and would not let it be known that to sit for six hours a night in this hard chair, my back was going numb and my feet tingling. Instead, I prayed and asked God to help her and not me. I wanted her to go peacefully to the place that we all dream of going to one day. I told her twenty four hours before she died, sitting beside her bed, that it was ok to go to Heaven now and that God was waiting for her and that when she got there, there would be no more pain and it would be glorious.

I saw what pain she went through the last two and a half years and I felt selfish for even complaining about my back hurting or the fact that I had to shit too many times a day. Here she was in private agony, fighting so hard to win a battle that eventually took over every part of her, her mind and her body, and the day she died, November 15, 2010 at 6:30am, I was ashamned that I felt relieved for her. I felt bad for thinking that I was glad that she was gone and with God, because I knew she would never have to feel pain again and this tiny part of me was jealous. I don't want to die, don't get me wrong, but waking up every day in pain is not only physically draining, but emotionally draining as well. The sadnessI fell now that she is gone is enormous, and it has made my chronic illness worse. I went for Acupuncture and that did not help. I went for a massage and that did not help.

It has been one week since we buried Michelle. Today is Thanksgiving, the day we should be thankful for health, friends and family and I can't help but think of her and I do smile knowing that she is no longer in pain but I miss her terribly and wish she had more time on this earth, with her husband, with her son, and to continue to be my best friend. Today I will be thankful for friends, family, health (even if I have IBS and Fibromyalgia), and most of all, I am thankful for my new guardian angel that I know is watching over me right now. For today, I can rest easy on a soft couch and think of her tonight. Happy Thanksgiving Michelle. May you find peace in Heaven next to God.

(Picture above is titled "Sacred Hour" by Christophe Vacher)

My Fantasy Toilet

I just found out that in Japan they have built a women's restroom that is surrounded by a salt water aquarium on three sides that has swimming fish and a turtle. It's a shitter's heaven. A sanctuary for people like me. And it's only for women. They did not build one for men.

This amazing bathroom is located at Mumin Papa Café in Akashi, Japan and was built in 2007. The owner of the cafe says it cost 30 Million Yen (approx. $270,000 at the time) to build, which is not in the budget of most restaurants. It’s filled with all sorts of exotic fish, including the “famous” male sea turtle that watching women to their business. Surprisingly, many women do not claim it impairs their duty or gives them stage fright. The surrounding aquarium was designed to mimic the feeling of relieving yourself while swimming in the ocean.

This makes me wonder why doctor's offices and people in America have not created one here. For people who suffer from IBS and visit bathrooms often, this type of bathroom would make me much more relaxed and not be so anxious when making multiple trips to the bathroom. I might actually look forward to going to the bathroom for a change. Now instead of reading magazines with stupid gossip or observing ceiling tiles, I can now mingle with the fishes and pretend I'm a mermaid and maybe instead of talking to myself, I'll talk to the turtle.




So if the bathroom cost $270,000 to build, I wonder how much the entrees in that restaurant cost.

Sugar Free Not For Me!!!!!

I decided one day that I would try to eat healthier treats so decided I would buy a bag of sugar free gummy bears. They were so delicious that I ate the entire bag within minutes and my tummy was happy. I was in a fake sugar coma.

A few minutes later and at least once every half-hour for the rest of the day, my tummy WAS NOT HAPPY! I stopped counting after my seventh trip to the bathroom.

What the hell was in the damn gummy bears???? I turned over the bag and read the ingredients. Nothing seemed out of th ordinary except in small letters at the bottom of the bag, it read "Consuming large quantaties may have laxative effect."

Oh, Lord what have I done? How could I have not read the ingredients? I always look at ingredients in foods because I am allergic to milk and Monosodium Glucamate gives me a headache, but not once did I think to research gummy bears and sugar free. They didn't have milk, so I scarfed them down, like a six year-old on Halloween night.

BIG MISTAKE!! Hours of agony ensued and it was the first and last time I ever ate sugar free anything again. I started to check all the bags of sugar free candies and treats and they all said the same thing. So Diabetics must be screwed as well. Why make it sugar free if it's going to be hell for you afterwards? I would rather just get the damn cavity that have this!

If anyone wants to go on a quick diet and lose three pounds in two days or if you are about to have a colonoscopy, no need for laxative pills and that disgusting liquid beverage, instead just grab a bag of delicious sugar free gummy bears and that should do the trick.

I'm stiking to my favorite, Haribo Gummy Bears. They have sugar, but Germans know good sugar, so I'm sticking with the Germans on this one.

Diving In

My boyfriend came home today from a two day trip to see his family. He visited a water park yesterday and had a blast. I am sure he rode everything and slid down every slide. He isn't scared of anything. I can see him on a 50 foot diving board. He wouldn't think twice and would jump with abandonment with a smile on his face.

I was stuck here working while he was out in the sun and in the water, two places that I wanted to be. I was getting ready to put his clothes in the wash. I pulled out his swim trunks from the laundry basket and I could smell the chlorine.

I picked up the swimming trunks, pulled them up to my nose. I closed my eyes and inhaled them for at least a minute. I was eleven again on the swim team, with my professional bathing suit, goggles tight and my family watching. I was about to race through the crystal pool ripples like a dolphin. I was stretching on the edge of the pool on that little mount, ready to hear the buzzer, fling like a bird and fly into the water, flex my legs, stretch my arms and swim.

I smelled his swim trunks just like a mother pulling out her box in the attic of baby clothes. She would hold them to her nose, close her eyes and remember a time that seems so long ago, but at the same time, it seems like just yesterday.

I was young again. I was free, flying in the waves and didn't have any worries. I only cared about the way I felt rushing through the water. My heart was beating fast, and adrenaline knew my name by heart. I was streaming ahead, legs graceful as I did the breast stroke. My hands went to the sides, pushing the water away, pulling down below and them coming back up, taking a breath and dancing in the water.

When I opened my eyes, with his swim trunks in my hands I realized that I was 32 in grey jogging pants and one of my boyfriends old t-shirts. I started to cry. I wanted to be that kid again, laughing with no health problems. I was never tired and loved it. I wanted that rush you got when the swim meet was over and I was so proud holding that ribbon for winning. It didn't even matter if I won, because I just got to swim and that was all that really mattered then.

What matters now is that I have to stand up, put on my bathing suit and walk to the diving board again. I will not be scared of the high dive and I will take the plunge. I will forget about illness and be free again.

We need to walk to end of the board and not look back, but run like an eleven year old would, jump and cannonball.

The Other Stall- Just For Laughs

My friend sent me this hillarious email this morning called "the other stall." It was too funny so I had to include it as one of my blog posts. I hope you laugh as hard as I did when you read the email below.


Traveling down the interstate and needing to use the restroom,
I stopped at a rest area and headed to the restroom.

I was barely sitting down when I heard a voice from the other stall saying:
"Hi, how are you?"

I'm not the type to start a conversation in the restroom and I don't know what got into me,
But I answered, somewhat embarrassed,
"Doin' just fine!"

And the other person says:
"So what are you up to?"

What kind of question is that?
At that point, I'm thinking this is too bizarre so I say:
"Uhhh, I'm like you, just traveling!" ??

At this point I am just trying to get out as fast as I can when I hear another question.
"Can I come over?"

Ok, this question is just too weird for me but I figured I could just be polite and end the conversation. I tell them
"No..I'm a little busy right now!!!"
Then I hear the person say nervously...

"Listen, I'll have to call you back.
There's an idiot in the other stall who keeps answering all my questions