Leaves of Ass
Ah, fall. The brilliance of the colors, the crunch of leaves underfoot, and the bounty of my first gall bladder flush:
Here’s another look at one of the yields:
Nestled in the bile-stained apple skins swiped undigested from the small intestine are the treasured orange and green gallstones. They’re about the size of raisins; here’s a close-up of a green one, even though I’m not sure why it photographs as yellow (or blurry):
A recap of the night previous:
9:30pm: A date with myself. The Crucible DVD keeps stuttering and stalling. Pop in Thank You For Smoking instead. Totally fall for the evil Nick Naylor. Realize he also played George, the Harley-riding, babysitting ex-boyfriend of Erin Brockovich. He cleaned up nicely.
12:27am: Mix up 2/3c olive oil and 1/3c lemon juice. Lie on right side, drink what my taste buds register as a “vomitous mixture.” Pretend it’s glaze for a chicken. Or salad dressing. Or something remotely palatable. Fail on all accounts. I’m only able to drink about 3/4 of it and keep it down. Lie on right side and attempt to fall asleep.
12:43am: Strange achy pain coursing down my spine, especially through the mid-thoracic region. Kind of weird, but marvelling that I am feeling SOMETHING, as opposed to the bucketloads of vitamins and supplements I take that do nothing.
12:52am: Weird grumbly noises, stomach ache, followed by a twinge from the liver/gall bladder area. Soon all digestive counties start ringing in with their endorsement that lemon/oil juice is vile. For the next twenty or so minutes, I am swimming in waves of nausea. Note to self: place lined waste receptacle adjacent to bed for next flush.
3:00am: Wake from restive sleep to embrace more nausea and fever-like ague. Note to God: This had better be worth it. Fall back into sleep where I dream I am in a small, unstable rowboat surrounded by sharks.
6:27am: I wake up to the sound of the cat piteously meowing to be let out. The nausea has subsided but I feel absolutely exhausted, too fatigued to attempt some palliative abdominal massage. When the cat starts ripping the Venetian blinds as a prerequisite for breaking the window to escape, I get up and let the ingrate out.
I try to fall back asleep, but can’t. No movement from down south, but I get an internal message that my gallstone friends aren’t ready to leave yet. I tell them where they’re going there’s a huge swimming pool, and there’s going to be lots of other waste for them to play with! They like this, they sing goodbye to me and then - badabing, badaboom - we’re off to the loo.
Even though the cleanse I was following (from Paul Pitchford’s Healing With Whole Foods) said I would release ALL the stones from the gall bladder (and there can be thousands) I was very proud that I released any at all. Plus, the star of the show was copious amounts of cholesterol foam that got filtered through the strainer. So it wasn’t Christmas in the sense that I was greeted with hundreds of shiny little gallstones in every yield, but it was a really successful start. I do feel quite cleansed.
I just have to hypnotize myself into liking olive oil as a drink, unless I find an easier cleanse. Unfortunately, I have yet to google any liver/gall bladder flushes involving chocolate.
[…] if the last one wasn’t bad enough, I’m doing another liver flush today. I know, I know…what am I […]