COVID-19

Dead Butt Syndrome, Hair Loss, and Funky B.O.

/ Lisa Gastaldo / 1 Comment
Image by max leroy from Pixabay

Just a few of the odd pandemic ailments causing our coronasomnia

I’ve dealt with perils of maskne, been troubled about the effects of skin hunger, and fretted over the infamous “quarantine fifteen.”

(OK — Who am I kidding? It’s more like 20 or 25. My muffin top is now a seven-layer cake.)

But nothing could prepare me for the headline accosting me during my early morning social media scroll:

Dead Butt Syndrome emerges during pandemic

Holy Heinies Batman!

My cheeks clenched in alarm, I had to investigate this menacing malady.

Dead Butt Syndrome (DBS), technically known as Gluteus Medius Tendinopathy (GMT), a.k.a. Dormant Buttocks Syndrome, a.k.a. Gluteal Amnesia is a real affliction and it’s spreading across America.

Our hours of prolonged sitting have caused our posterior muscles to weaken, misfire, or simply forget how to work, causing tingling, numbness, and/or pain. Left untreated, it can lead to hip, lower back, and leg pain.

Our dearly departed derrieres are sleeping off the pandemic like Rip Van Winkle.

Greatly unnerved, I decided to research what other odd conditions we could expect to encounter as a result of over a year in isolation.

Tearing our hair out

We’ve all laughed at the quarantine haircuts gone wrong memes. Chuckled at the home dye jobs that looked like they were done by Jackson Pollock instead of Vidal Sassoon. (My son cajoled me into cutting his hair. He wanted a tight fade. He got a cockeyed zigzag.)

But did you know pandemic stress is freaking our follicles out?

Our hair cycle has three phases: growth, transitional, and resting. When we experience a shock to our system — be it physical, emotional, or both, our bodies react by keeping more and more hairs in the resting phase. Stunted, they eventually throw in the towel and fall out.

Physicians across the country are seeing a huge increase in patients reporting excessive hair loss. Our lives have been uprooted and our manes are following suit.

It’s no wonder our couches are looking like Chia Pets.

Ew! What’s that smell?!

Chances are — it’s you.

Have you noticed a peculiar funk following you around lately? Do you keep cleaning out your pantry searching for that forgotten potato you’re sure has begun to rot? Blame it on pandemic body odor.

There are two main culprits contributing to our musty auras; the first being the quarantine Big Stinky Cheese: Yep, stress.

Humans produce two types of sweat: Normal, everyday sweat to regulate temperature and stress sweat — a thick, viscous secretion that foul-smelling bacteria love to feast upon.

This brings me to the second culprit: Our microbiomes — the mix of bacteria, fungi, and viruses that live on our skin — are transforming. Each of us carries a unique microbe “cocktail” that’s affected by every living thing we come into contact with — including pets.

In our pre-pandemic life, we interacted with dozens of people on a weekly basis. Now the social life of our epidermis squatters has been greatly diminished. We may be missing our daily organism exchange with the person who added just the right amount of zing to our zest.

When we’re hunkered down with a select few, their concentrated condiments can make our microbial parties a little too pungent for our delicate senses.

If we used to waft a slight scent of G&T with extra lime (yes, it’s my go-to beverage, in case anyone is interested), we may now reek like a garlic and brussel sprout smoothie.

Tossing and Turning

A recent study by the American Academy of Sleep Medicine found that Google searches for insomnia rose 58% percent during the first five months of 2020.

Lisa Medalie, PsyD, CBSM, a behavioral sleep medicine specialist, has dubbed the phenomenon coronasomnia. She cites our favorite party crasher — stress — as a primary cause of our restless nights:

“People seem stuck with their minds racing about finances, homeschooling, work challenges, health fears, uncertainty, and struggling to transition into and back to sleep,” she explained to Healthline.

Now we’ve added sluggish tushies, shedding tresses, and malodorous biomes to the worry tilt-a-whirl hindering our slumber.

Trouble Shooting

Experts assure us we can reanimate our defunct fannies, our molting is only temporary, and there are ways to alter our body odor to a fragrance that won’t make our eyes water.

Many advise employing new coping strategies to mitigate stress and improve our sleep.

Call me jaded, but I am exasperated with the ceaseless self-help articles and news segments that only serve to point out how topsy-turvy our lives have become. It’s been nearly 9000 hours of persistent tension. My battery is drained. My circuits are fried.

But then again — maybe it’s time to get my rear in gear: Don a cute hat and lather on some deodorant.

Perhaps I’ll take a cue from Sleeping Beauty and find a vaccinated Prince Charming to kiss my ass and wake that puppy up.

Maybe then I can catch some z’s.

Originally published on Medium.com

Are We in For Another Roaring 20s? Or Will We Be Too Afraid?

/ Lisa Gastaldo / 1 Comment
Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Is society prepared for the psychological aftermath of a global crisis?

The experts may dispute when it will happen, but there is a light at the end of our pandemic tunnel.

It could be the end of Summer, Thanksgiving, or even 2022. One thing history teaches us — we will see the other side of the crisis.

The question remains, however, how will we handle it? Will we experience post-traumatic euphoria or PTSD? Will we explode like confetti canons into socializing or double-down on our agoraphobia?

Our post-tunnel vision is yet to be seen, but there are some clues.

Rip-Roaring and Raring to Go

Considering the constant barrage of doom and gloom over the past year, it is only natural for us to cling to the hope of reliving the fabled Roaring 20s. Bursting from the constraints of the Great War and the Spanish Flu pandemic, the 1920s is often held as the icon for post adversity exuberance.

Even prohibition couldn’t dampen the spirit of the generation. The “danger” only made it more exciting. Quite simply, they were happy and having fun.

Or were they?

It was a decade of prosperity and dissipation, and of jazz bands, bootleggers, raccoon coats, bathtub gin, flappers, flagpole sitters, bootleggers, and marathon dancers. It was, in the popular view, the Roaring 20s, when the younger generation rebelled against traditional taboos while their elders engaged in an orgy of speculation. But the 1920s was also a decade of bitter cultural conflicts, pitting religious liberals against fundamentalists, nativists against immigrants, and rural provincials against urban cosmopolitans.*

Then again, maybe we aren’t so far off.

Give me shelter

When reporting the results of its 2020 survey, The American Psychological Association (APA) declared: “We are facing a national mental health crisis that could yield serious health and social consequences for years to come.”

The BBC recently reported on who is most likely to experience lasting mental health problems in a post-pandemic world. Like with the virus, itself, those who have preexisting conditions are the most vulnerable.

These include:

  • OCD — Particularly those with contamination or cleaning compulsions.
  • General anxiety disorders — Threats (such as those of variant strains, etc.) whether real or imagined can heighten the condition.
  • Chronic loneliness — Those who deliberately detached from the outside world to feel a sense of safety may find it difficult to reenter it.
  • Past trauma — The stress of living in a COVID-19 environment — even after things are opened up — can retrigger PTSD-type worries.
  • Fear of the unknown — This is especially challenging for those who face an ongoing drop in income or unemployment in industries hit hard by the pandemic, such as travel and entertainment.

Noting the numbers rising of those experiencing mental health difficulties as a direct result of the pandemic, researchers on now focusing on how existing disorders may exasperate the situation and how long the effects will last.

Joshua C Morganstein, MD, from Centre for the Study of Traumatic Stress in Maryland, explains that understanding the risks is essential to provide interventions and prepare for future public health emergencies:

Stress is like a toxin, such as lead or radon. In order to understand it and how it is affecting a society, we need to know who is exposed, when, how much and what effects were caused by the exposure.

How do we go about decontaminating an entire population?

Roaring back

With an infection rate already passing 113 million worldwide, one has to wonder if life can ever get back to normal. Why would anyone take a chance of contracting a disease or even death just to hit a happy hour or go dancing?

Yascha Mounk of the Atlantic compares our current (or soon to be current) attitudes to those of the 1920s:

…the devastation of World War I and the 1918 flu pandemic was quickly followed by a manic flight into sociability. The Roaring Twenties saw a flowering of parties and concerts. The 1918 virus killed more people than the deadliest war humanity had hitherto experienced, but it did not reduce humanity’s determination to socialize.

This eagerness to get out and congregate has already been made evident. Wuhan, where the pandemic originated, held a water-park music festival last August. No social distancing or masks were required of the thousands of attendees. New Zealand began hosting sold-out concerts in October and the three-day Electric Daisy Carnival scheduled for May 2021 in Las Vegas sold out in a single day.

People are fed up with being pent up. They are tired of being alone.

Hope springs eternal

Despite the negative impacts of the pandemic, the aforementioned report by the APA states that 71% of those surveyed feel hopeful about their future.

Since the Roaring 20s, the U.S. has had numerous cataclysmic events: The Great Depression, WWII, and 9/11, to name just a few. Not to mention the plethora of natural disasters including the Dust Bowl, the Northridge Earthquake, and Hurricane Katrina. Boom to bust, war to peace, destruction to rebirth and back again: it’s the natural ebb and flow of history.

If these events have taught us anything, it’s that the human race is highly resilient.

Researchers are taking note of this rebound phenomenon in their investigations. In Sweden, the Centre for Psychiatric Research in Stockholm is studying the impact of the pandemic on individuals with already diagnosed mental health conditions. The hows and whys the majority of people are able to overcome their anxieties is a big part of the project.

Nitya Jayaram-Lindström, operations manager for the Stockholm project, explains:

We also want to understand factors that contribute to resilience, which is as important to understand as the risk factors.

Gaining insight into how a population is able to bounce back after a catastrophe is essential to create interventions for those who don’t.

Return to the land of the living

From Wall Street to Madison Avenue to academia, the nuevo Roaring 20s is the hot topic.

Jean-Paul Agon, chief executive of L’Oréal, the world’s largest cosmetics group, predicts the following:

People will be happy to go out again, to socialise (sic). This will be like the Roaring 20s, there will be a fiesta in makeup and in fragrances. Putting on lipstick again will be a symbol of returning to life.

Social epidemiologist, Dr. Nicholas Christakis, takes it a step further in his book: Apollo’s Arrow: The Profound and Enduring Impact of the Coronavirus on the Way We Live. Once we are relatively back to normal, he expects to see mass rejoicing and a carpe diem spirit:

What typically happens is people get less religious. They will relentlessly seek out social interactions in nightclubs and restaurants and sporting events and political rallies. There’ll be some sexual licentiousness. People will start spending their money after having saved it. They’ll be joie de vivre and a kind of risk-taking, a kind of efflorescence of the arts, I think.

It seems no matter what the risk, the basic human need to whoop it up (and make a little whoopie) is irrepressible.

Here’s to staying positive and testing negative

This tongue-in-cheek toast traditionally has referred to STDs. However, it takes on a whole new meaning in a modern post-pandemic world.

The custom of toasting to one’s health dates back to prehistory. Nearly every common language has a traditional word or phrase uttered when clinking glasses with family and friends. The majority of these translate to wishes for good health or a happy life.

From the Czech Na zdraví! (To health!) to the Portuguese Viva! (Life!), all are social talismans reminding us to eat drink and be merry while we still have the ability to do so.

I’m ready to raise my glass. Are you?

L’Chaim!

*Mintz, S., & McNeil, S. (2018). Overview of the 1920s. Digital History. Retrieved 2/28/2021 from https://www.digitalhistory.uh.edu/era.cfm?eraid=13&smtid=1

This post originally appeared in Change Becomes You – A Publication of The Good Men Project @Medium.com

I Have an Autoimmune Disorder. Will COVID-19 Make Me a Second-Class Citizen?

/ Lisa Gastaldo / Leave a comment

united-nations-covid-19-response-BsWzDtNmnro-unsplash

Photo by United Nations COVID-19 Response

All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.

— George Orwell, Animal Farm

I, along with the rest of the world, live in fear of COVID-19. But, unlike most of the population, I am petrified of the aftermath. How will society view me — someone with a dysfunctional immune system — and others like me, once we completely emerge from our cocoons? Will I be shunned and segregated? Or will I be forced to isolate myself to “protect” my physical health? What will be the cost to my mental health?

Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA) is the systemic disease that has chosen to take up residence in my body. This parasite, as I choose to visualize it, can affect any organ and/or any joint at will — often spreading its tentacles in multiple areas simultaneously. My immune system is hyperactive. It goes to eleven and beyond when triggered, wreaking havoc in the process. People with RA are more susceptible to catching a virus, developing infections, and experiencing cardiorespiratory complications. In other words, I’m poised to hit the COVID trifecta.

So, what’s a gal like me supposed to do when restrictions are lifted? Proponents of herd immunity want everyone out and about so we can all catch it, recover, and develop antibodies. That is all well and good unless you’re one of the individuals most likely not to survive such a grand Darwinian roulette.

I realize I am not in the majority. We need to reopen our economy, get kids back in school, and restart society again as soon as possible for it to survive. It would be unrealistic (and selfish) of me to expect anything less. I just wonder if it will be safe for me to go out and play. Will I even be permitted? Is becoming a recluse my mandated future? Human contact reduced to the afterglow of a digital screen.

Underlying Conditions

Currently, I am unemployed. My chosen field, travel and events, has not only been shut down by the pandemic — it has been decimated. In all likelihood, it will be one of the last industries to recover. I am but a single droplet in a sea of millions that will be seeking new employment once our first crisis wave is over. It is illegal for an employer to inquire about medical history, but how long will that protection last? Italy and Germany are considering issuing COVID immunity certificates. Dr. Anthony Fauci told CNN the idea “has some merit” and is “being discussed.” All things being equal, won’t the candidate most likely to weather an outbreak be the more attractive option? I can envision a world where my economic future is regulated by my health condition. Ala Willy Wonka, I could be barred from entry to the factory unless I possess a golden Corona ticket.

Even if I can find employment, will it be safe for me? Restrictions are being lifted across the country, but the guidelines for those of us with autoimmune disorders are still in place. Web MD and Arthritis.org both advise avoiding travel (that’s a boost to my career), staying home as much as possible, and forgoing physical contact as much as possible with anyone outside your home. “Healthy” agoraphobia will be in control of my social life for the foreseeable future. Left behind while the general public moves on.

Our new world rests on order. The danger is disorder. And in today’s world, it can now spread like contagion. — Tony Blair, 2003

Apple and Google are ready to roll out their COVID Tracker app. Health agencies and the like will be able to use it to verify an individual’s COVID status. If you encounter someone who has tested positive within the last 14 days, you will receive an alert on your phone. Privacy issues aside for the moment (as of now, it will be up to the user to enter his/her COVID status), they have yet to minimize the number of false positives to an acceptable level. That’s reassuring. Can you imagine a chorus of viral emergency alerts blaring as you are walking down the street? People could be dodged like COVID zombies — their uncleanliness determined by Bluetooth.

The coronavirus has also recharged the call for a Unique Patient Identifier (UPI) system. All citizens would be issued a code, similar to a Social Security number, that provides access to their personal health database. Your entire medical record available within a few keystrokes. Proponents of UPI say it will make it easier for doctors to make diagnoses and provide proper treatment to patients. Citing security and confidentiality issues, opponents are wary of having such records under the control of the Federal government.

When HIPAA was passed in 1996, it mandated that the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) create a UPI system. Two years later, Congress prohibited funding such a project due to privacy concerns. The subject has been debated every year since and in June 2019, the House voted to lift the ban. In September, however, the Senate appropriators left it in place and so it still stands — for the time being.

As a patient that has had been under the care of multiple types of physicians due to my condition, I can see the convenience of such a system. No more lugging charts from office to office or trying to remember all your past surgery dates and previous medications when filling out forms. The worry lies in how all that collective data will be analyzed. Will pre-existing conditions predetermine the quality of care? Will classifications based on antibodies and immunities ultimately determine our employment, housing, or recreation options?

That’s All Folks

I’ve read my fair share of dystopian novels. Set my eyes upon hours upon hours of post-apocalyptic tales. Perhaps they’ve altered my world view — sowed a bit of paranoia into my fertile imagination. Prompted me to foresee an ominous hierarchy at every turn.

There is no doubt I am overthinking. It’s been my stress reflex even before we were forced to steep in our own thoughts for months on end. I would like to think of my musings as a fine Earl Grey: Bold and rich, with a touch of aromatic citrus. More likely, they are like the gooey remnants remaining in a teacup forgotten on a desk for at least a week.

In reality, it’s the uncertainty of it all that sends my fears into a category 5 tailspin — whirling around me like the Tasmanian Devil. Oh, how I long to be Tweety Bird — projecting wide-eyed innocence, while always having the upper hand. Being ready for every contingency is what has always provided me peace of mind. Having some sense of control — even if imagined — is what settles me. The uneasiness resides in getting prepared for uncharted territory. Society’s next blueprint has yet to be drafted. Will I be deemed suitable for inclusion or cast off? There is nothing to but sit back and wait.

This post previously published @GEN | @Medium

Stop Drinking the New Normal Kool-Aid

/ Lisa Gastaldo / 1 Comment

This sucks and we all know it

andre-hunter-5otlbgWJlLs-unsplash

Photo by Andre Hunter on Unsplash

OK. I’ve had enough of the bullshit. Up to my salt-and-pepper roots with the candy-coated viewpoints. I’m removing my homemade sock mask and screaming:

NEW NORMAL SUCKS!!!

Damn thing stinks anyway.

If you follow me, you know I’ve gone through varied stages coping with pandemic pandemonium. I threw one killer of a pity party, tallied my blessings and cowered in fear. Yet, I seemed to have missed a stop on the Kübler-Ross grief train, so I’ve double-backed. The Metro has dumped me at the Anger Depot and is no longer in service. I’m off the rails and plopping my Jabba-the-Hut ass down for a sit in. If needed, I’ll beg for necessities, “Sister, can you spare a square?”

Staring directly into the bright side has scorched my retinas. All I see is red.

I’m spent — plain tuckered out. Too pooped to shovel this crap any longer. (Yes, I know, I’m referring to excrement quite often. Frankly my dear, I don’t give a shit.)

The spoonful of sugar technique has been attempted repeatedly. My gag reflex is too resistant for such deception. Taking a cue from my Maltipoo, I’ve tried covering the bitter pill in peanut butter. It regurgitated like cow cud.

Safer at home? Tell that to my psyche. I’ve been simmering in my juices for far too long: Marinating in my anxieties, both past and present. How much longer until my connective tissue is fully dissolved, severing my tethers to humanity?

Exactly what are the benefits of our so-called safe havens? Commercials are already referencing our “places of refuge” in their “We are all in this together!” campaigns. Life in our humble abodes tranquilly portrayed like a utopian Westworld scenario. Not in this habitat. The only area shielded from disarray is what can be viewed through my Zoom Happy Hour camera. Eau de nursing home toilette wafts throughout: Lysol mixed with flop sweat and not-so-quiet desperation.

My childhood dreams did not include me being unwashed, unshaven and unemployed, gleaning style tips from Tiger King. (They say animal prints are never passé.) My pits and pubes so overgrown, I am contemplating repurposing my barrettes and hair ties. Note to self: Watch YouTube video on French braiding.

Aren’t you tired of adulting? I’m fed up with rebooting, repeatedly switching to a new alternate reality. I need to vent before all hell breaks loose.

It’s time for a collective temper tantrum. Join me in my fury that is far from insignificant. Six feet provides plenty of room to pound and kick the pavement. I’m not stopping until life goes back to business as usual — or maybe until someone brings me a gallon of Rocky Road.

I’m done with playing Pollyanna. I’m taking my ball and going home. F@#$! I’m already here. :/