Like your mama said, eat your vegetables.

There is no mystery to overcoming immuno-suppression and the allergies it induces.

I participated in this exchange in a local shop …  Remember doing that, going to a local shop?

I walked in on this ongoing exchange:

“I’ve never had chicken pox,” indicated a young adult behind the counter.

“What’s that other shit,” a patron in the aisle inquired?  “Uhh …”

“Shingles,” I declared!  “Eat your vegetables, and get your sleep,” I further declared.

That declaration launched a larger discussion with many patrons about nutrition, good sleep and exercise, all in a way of illuminating the hazards of immuno-suppression… and how to avoid it.

“Yeah, I had it once,” another patron piped in.  “I got these welts.”

“What?  Did you have them on your rib cage?  Shingles follows nerve endings?”

“No, right behind my shoulder.  These welts…  They said it was stress you know.  I was in prison.  I was worrying about my child.”

We all talked about getting good sleep; “It’s when your body repairs itself.”  We talked about eating well, hence, “Eat your vegetables … Don’t drink too much.”

Never mind that all of this discussion—discussion about prison, diet, sleep and immuno-suppression—went on in a liquor store.  (I had walked in on a bit of rough crowd.) I had been sent out to get some nice stuff for the guests who we will hosting this evening for dinner.  We (everyone in the liquor store getting his/her/xir/haw hooch) did not get around to talking about smoking and drugs.  But, don’t make a habit of those if one aspires to reducing strains on one’s immune system.

I myself have had experience with shingles.  I was not an older person when I first experienced it.

I had the great privilege of going off to medieval archives in Italy.  I ended up doing this over the course of three consecutive summers.  I was digging through the 13th and 14th centuries, looking for evidence about the financing of trade between Italy and the Levant.  The spice trade, mostly pepper.  Venice and Genoa fought wars (plural) over command of it.

The first summer, I learned to decipher the contracts.  They were crafted in medieval Latin.  Someone had published a dictionary of Medieval Latin in the early 20th century, but it really pertained only to ecclesiastical documents.  It had nothing to reveal about commercial documents.  But, a paperback Latin dictionary and a lot of inspired guess work did the job.  It did the job well enough.

The second summer I was proficient at identifying contracts within the stacks of parchment.  In the third summer I was like a machine.  I could proficiently find these documents and then “code” these documents—that is, indicate their schematic features in my database.  I’d make sense of the patterns in the database later.

Who knew that working in the archives could make for such physically demanding work.  You’re just sitting, right?  You’re just looking at documents.  How demanding could that be?

I’d get to the archives just before opening and assume ownership of my preferred work spaces.  Certain spaces would avoid direct sunlight through the course of the day but would be illuminated by the soft, indirect sunlight reflecting off of the plastered walls of the reading room.  The reading room was a long hall with a vaulted ceiling.  It had been part of a Franciscan monastery. 

I worked hard that summer.  I also had great fun.  I enjoyed invitations to give seminars here and there.  “There” included a visit to Poland.  Great fun.  But, getting back from Poland to the archives involved some work.  There had been great flooding in Central Europe.  Train travel had been suspended.  I ended up dishing out for a plane ticket for travel from Krakow to Zurich.  I then took a train from Zurich to Milan, then another train from Milan to Bologna.  Then Bologna to Venice.

There had been a train wreck outside Bologna. Train traffic was suspended for hours, but, by that time—about 4 in the morning—I could already feel a severe “cold” coming down.  I had first noticed symptoms as the train descended from Zurich to Milan.

I got into Venice hours and hours late.  But I was wired, I couldn’t sleep.  I went to the archives.

That did not last long.  By late morning or so, I returned to my dark, little apartment.  I got into bed. 

Bed was a wonky sofa.  But it was clean.  I had cleaned it.  I had gotten much of the stench and stain of cigarettes out of it.

I can visualize now the scene as I attempted to fall asleep.  I was exhausted but still could not sleep   Strange.

It was about a month later or so that I am back in Los Angeles.  And I get this weird inflammation.  Very long story short: Physicians are useless.  I determine through my own research that it’s shingles.  And, what are “Shingles?”  It’s just a label, but it does mean something.  It means that you’re immuno-suppressed.  You’re beat up.  You need to do something about that.

“That” involves getting your sleep.  Getting your sleep might involve not doing drugs, not consuming too much alcohol, and literally eating your vegetables.  (I really do feel better if I consume “cruciferous vegetables”—things from the cabbage family—and leafy greens.)  And, there’s nothing wrong with some red meat.

What I would say to my friends at the liquor store is: If you don’t cook for yourself, then cook for yourself.  Yes, certain stresses and strains—the vicissitudes of life—may not always be obviously avoidable.  But, if you eat better and get modest exercise, you’ll sleep better.  Your immune system will appreciate it.

After that summer, I noticed many consequences of immuno-suppression. I’d become allergic to like everything. I’d sip a beer and then get stuffed up and itchy. I experimented with going gluten-light. (It helped.) I continued to do what I had always been doing: cooking for myself and eating my vegetables! It made a difference. Over the course of several years, my health linearly improved. The allergies faded away.

Consider an alternative way of dealing with these issues. I did visit a physician to talk about allergies. She put me through a raft of tests. I tested positive to everything, meaning, in my mind, that I was not so much allergic to everything but that my immune system was overwhelmed. I needed to get out of a bad equilibrium and back into a better equilibrium.

I remember walking in to the waiting room. All these folks were in there waiting for their allergy shots. Pasty and flaccid.

I did not submit to the take-a-pill, get-a-shot program. I took responsibility for my health, and it improved. It amounted to doing what I had always been doing—cooking for myself and getting exercise. But, having become very well-acquainted with my immune system, I became even more intent on sticking with my own program.

I joke to this day about getting my “beauty sleep.” Sleep is beautiful, and it will make you beautiful. So, again: Eat your vegetables. Cook for yourself. The anti-meat propaganda is just that: propaganda. Nothing wrong with some eggs and a steak now and then. Don’t drink too much. No drugs. Don’t smoke to much. Cut down on highly-refined carbohydrates (sugar). You’ll sleep better, and that itch will go away.