I’ve had a difficult couple of weeks as my colitis flare rages on, during which time I’ve been resting as much as possible, having left Brighton to stay with family whilst I try to recover. As difficult as I find it to rest, (and as difficult as contemporary society penalises resting in every way imaginable!) I’ve taken the time to mostly catch up on reading and making notes.
I was sad to miss Jesse Darling’s exhibition in Oxford that closed earlier this week, ‘No Medals, No Ribbons’ that would certainly have been worth a short trip, were I well enough. I’ve been a long term fan of Darling’s, an artist who has made work referencing chronic illness, pain and vulnerability that has really resonated with me on a number of occasions.
“To acknowledge our universal vulnerability, at the level of the mortal body, is for me a way of thinking about trying to care for each other.” - Jesse Darling
Thanks to Darling’s incredible reading list as part of this recent exhibition, I started reading ‘Inflamed: Deep Medicine and the Anatomy of Injustice by Rupa Marya & Raj Patel’, a powerful and original book that claims:
‘Health is not something we can attain as individuals, for ourselves, hermetically sealed off from the world around us. An injury to one is an injury to all.’
Whilst this book is difficult, and at times hard (emotionally) to read, the ideas within it are profound and inspiring. Each chapter examines the workings of the main bodily systems (respiratory, digestive, reproductive, etc) alongside the earths’ systems, and charts the effects of consumption, colonialism and capitalism on the planet and their effects on our collective health.
I’ve mentioned in this blog so far that I am interested in the community aspects of health, and this book visualises this in another way during the chapter on the digestive system: ‘The Enchanted Forest’:
But the gut isn’t just a 6.5-meter-long (21 feet) tube of stomach, small intestine, and large intestine, a long sieve with progressively smaller holes. A better analogy for the digestive system would be a dense, teeming, and enchanted forest that borders two worlds within a single ecosystem, a transition zone between what we call the world and what we call our bodies. That forest encompasses human tissue, food, and a vast understory of microbial life.
A couple of weeks ago, I spent some time creating imagined gut-like forms using Blender 3D modelling programme. In the above and following images, the forms overlay photos taken in one of my favourite places, Puzzle Wood in the Forest of Dean, during a visit in October 2020 (on Halloween, days before the UK was back in lockdown).
The book continues…
…this is the poetry of the web of life: what makes you unique is the multitude of beings that make your body their home. And what keeps you healthy literally depends on the relationships you maintain between yourself and others…
Indigenous people have known for thousands of years what modern science is just beginning to understand: 137 that good health is all about relationships and living with others in harmony.
It’s not exactly a radical notion that the impact we have had on the planet has had an impact on our health, but I can honestly say reading this book (especially whilst unwell) has reminded me quite viscerally that I am an organic being. Quite often those with chronic health conditions feel ‘blamed’ for their condition. As I’ve mentioned before, people suggesting ‘try yoga/change your diet/meditate/change your lifestyle’ are well-meaning but missing the point. (I actually do practice yoga, eat a vegan diet, meditate etc, and these are things which do help me.) But I will always have this illness. I could go and live a completely ‘natural’ life, off-grid, but I would still have it.
The realisation that many modern illnesses are symptoms of larger, systemic problems created by capitalism, greed and colonialism is a pretty tough pill to swallow (no pun intended). How could we not be sick?
Anyway, following this recent reading, I’m interested to go a little deeper into research into gut microbial life- I have learned that those with UC, Crohn’s and other digestive diseases have substantially less micro-organisms than someone with no IBD (a ‘normal’ bowel has about 90 billion). I’m excited to be able to ask more questions about this when I speak to the Head of Anatomy at Brighton Medical school in a couple of weeks. Microbiomes seem like a pretty abstract concept to me, so I would like to know more.
This reduction in the micro-organisms in my gut somehow reflects to me the reduction in my human community: an unfortunate but understandable side-effect of long bouts of ill-health is the decrease in social life. Whilst close friends and family do check in, by being at home and unwell, I retreat from my community, and they in turn retreat from me. Communities don’t exist for people unable to physically access them.
As part of my usual flare up schedule, I have a spreadsheet where I keep track of my intake (food, drink, sleep, medication) and my UC symptoms. It allows me to begin to notice patterns and make changes when needed, and I do recommend it to anyone experiencing a UC flare. Also it looks kind of cool. (I wouldn’t recommend zooming in, unless you want to know some pretty in depth details about my bowel movements.)
I’m hoping to be nearing the end of this current flare- with any luck- and whilst the urge to jump back in to a busy life is quite overwhelming, the next few weeks will be extremely important for my longer-term recovery. I’ll be taking things as slowly as possible, however that looks. And as always, I’ll be working more on how to make my everyday life more manageable, should another flare be on the horizon.
Reading list:
Jesse Darling ‘No Ribbons, no medals’ at Modern Art Oxford
‘Inflamed: Deep Medicine and the Anatomy of Injustice’ by Rupa Marya & Raj Patel