Yesterday, I went to the Lovejoy Fountain with Adahlia. Sun, warmth, and a cascade of water running down a series of steps, creating a wading pool for little ones to splash in, makes it the perfect destination for young NW PDX families. Although I hadn’t planned on it, I carried Adahlia over from the grassy area (a mix of shade trees and sun) and let her feet in at the waters edge. She loves water, so I wasn’t surprised when she wanted down on all fours, so she could touch the water with her hands. The fountain changes its flow over time, changing the water level of the pool so that it recedes to nothing and then builds back up to about a quarter city block. Adahlia slowly chased the water down as it receded, as though perplexed, and as it came back in, I occasionally picked her up and moved her backwards. By the end, she was soaked. Back in the grass, on our blanket, a little girl tottled over to me wearing a matching suit and sun hat, and put her hand on my shoulder. She didn’t speak as Adahlia looked at her, and then Adahlia finally reached towards her as her mother came to scoop her up. We exchanged the usual greeting and inquiries of age: her daughter was a mere 2 months older than Adahlia. “Such a fun time!” the girl’s mom said, and she sashayed away with her prize swinging between her arms.

I agreed, of course. And it was a fun time. But it was also 2.5 weeks since her last transfusion, and I had spent much of our time at the park reminding myself to simply relax with her, and trying not to look at other kids’ complexions, comparing them to hers. Some kids were very pale, and there were many children with puffy lower eyelids, or bluish skin tone, or who otherwise looked less well than Adahlia. But then I look closer and I see a lack of depth to her skin tone, a certain sallowness or deficiency that can’t quite be quantified… which perhaps I am only seeing because I am an oriental medicine practitioner.

Over the past months, I have learned a thing or two about anemia. And in gauging it, I’ve learned that you can get around ethnicity, skin color, temporary head-colds, and other confounding factors simply by looking at children’s feet. The soles, or bottom halves, of children’s feet are always pink, flushed with blood, especially as they run or crawl. Unless, of course, the child is anemic. And unfortunately for me, I was surrounded by dozens of shoeless children, and I couldn’t help but look at their feet.

(For you healthcare practitioners, there is another way to judge anemia for people with very dark skin tone, a more reliable way than skin pallor, which is to look at the whites of their eyes. If you cannot see the little red blood vessels, or there are only a few, and/or there is a slight bluish tint in a halo around the iris, then there is an anemia. But of course, this requires you to peer into someone’s eyes, which would be very awkward to do to strangers in a public park!)

I did my best to just enjoy the time at the park, to acknowledge to myself, yes, okay, she is anemic, she isn’t doing super, but she’s alert and enjoying herself, and that’s all that matters. But there were so many healthy children — people are just bursting with them. And that’s when things get dicey: when i start imagining that we will be in the hospital again in less than 2 weeks, while the other scrambling, laughing children won’t. And that’s when I start to feel angry that this is happening to Adahlia, and I start to think it isn’t fair. And then I realize, in a blush, that I am jealous of other children’s health.

It’s funny, though, the things we think we are owed in this world. Or maybe its not about being owed, but forgetful of the true nature of life, which includes toil and heartbreak in equal proportion to ease and joy? Not too long ago, many women died in childbirth, and many infants in their first year of life. My grandmother, actually, lost her 4 month old daughter to illness, while her husband was off fighting WWII. Can you imagine? I’m not sure how she bore it, but bore it she did, as well as three more children who made it into adulthood.

Where do we get these ideas, that everything should be roses? Is it simple denial, the it-wont-happen-to-me syndrome? Is it because of modern medicine? We just take pregnancy and birth and childhood for granted? It used to be common for there to be loss associated with having children. Now, we are shocked and regard ourselves as recipients of outrageous fortune when tragedy strikes. And there are less and less women who can identify with such tragedy, compounding loss with feelings such of alienation in those who experience it. It is as if such things have been whitewashed for a shinier, sparklier society.

Do such things not provide the depth from which we measure our own strength? Provide the counterpoint for relishing a holiday gathering or a family picnic? Or do we not need such difficulty, such tragedy? Could we one day be a tragedy-free human race? We want that… right?

I don’t know. All I know is that its very illuminating for me, having this rush of negative thought or emotion. It helps me to remember how much internal work I can still do, to remain present in the moment, to shed the illusion of desiring anything more than what exists now, which is always meeting us exactly where we are at, exactly where are ready and need it to, regardless of how nice it feels. If we are wise, we embrace it, we acknowledge that it is exactly what we need right now. By embracing it, by bringing it into ourselves, we allow it to change us, freeing us to enjoy it instead of wishing for something else, and that, in turn, has the potential to change our external world.

Today, we went to check Adahlia’s (and mine) Chinese herbal formulas. I must say that both Joe and I tire of having to give hers to her. She takes it peaceably only 20-40% of the time. She’s been taking a Chinese herbal formula for 7 months now.

Today, I was hoping that she would show signs of not needing the herbs for what is known as “Gu.” Gu can be thought of like spirochetes and other tiny viruses that live in the body for years, even incorporating themselves into host DNA processes. It also can be thought of as an unhealthy energetic signature, like an unhealthy pattern, or habit, or way of being in the world that is very difficult to break. An adult with Gu, who may be manifesting with symptoms like Lyme disease, may need 5 years of Chinese herbs to clear it out. A child with an acquired Gu syndrome should be able to clear it much quicker. But being born with one means its deeply rooted, and will be tricky to correct.

I tested positive for Gu back in November, when I was admitted to the ER for a mysteriously swollen kidney, and have been able to clear most of it. My formula now is mostly for tonifying my depleted energies. And I thought Adahlia was right behind me- we took her off the strongest acting Gu herb at our last visit. But today, she tested very strongly positive for it again.

I attribute my “kicking” of Gu so quickly, relatively speaking, to all the therapies I’m doing simultaneously. (And having surgery to drain out my kidney didn’t hurt, either, though it doesn’t solely account for my improvements.) Let me say, though, that I definitely still have kidney pain. Both sides. And days of fatigue. If there are woods, I certainly don’t feel out of them. But I feel better. Vastly better in some ways; marginally better in others. I’m still here, with the souls I love, so I’m alright.

Adahlia went 5 weeks between transfusions a couple months ago. It was a hopeful time, and there may have been many reasons for it. But we were also being very regular with her Gu formula. Then we tweaked her formula and she fought taking it for awhile, so we didn’t force her, and then she tested less positive for the chief Gu herb, so we decided to adjust the focus of the formula again, removing the chief Gu herb and replacing it with a less strong one, thinking she was coming out of it and her body could take over.

Basically, it didn’t work.

So we are back on the heavy-hitting, Gu-clearing herbal formula. Though it may seem odd, I’m actually more committed to continuing the Chinese herbal medicine treatments now. (There are symptoms and correlations I haven’t related and don’t have time to — this post is already too long. Suffice it to say that I have reason to believe that the right herbs positively affect her and the wrong formula negatively affects her or causes no affect at all.)

I am determined to see this course of action through to the end. Will it help? I don’t know. Is it possible that we will do the Gu clearing herbs and then tonifying herbs and she’ll still have problems making RBCs? Sure. The only thing I do know for sure is that the herbs are doing something.

Adahlia is trying to heal. We know healing is possible. The herbs affect her, perhaps not strongly enough for us to stand up and shout “cured!” after 7 months, but I have watched her closely enough to say that they do seem to be helping, or, at the very, very least, they have the potential to help.

They are a part of the puzzle.

And so, knowing that we’ve been set back a little bit, we simply readjust, and continue on.

We are where we are supposed to be.

This now is exactly what we need.