The Antidote

COMPLETE LIST OF TOPICS

2008-04-01T06:33:00.005-07:00

Welcome to the online archive of "The Antidote,"
published in the Boise Weekly from
July 2005 through March 2008.

Comments are always welcome in the posts,
and not-so-public comments may be sent to:
theantidote@edrabin.com.

Enjoy!

The Final Column
Released on Your Own Recognizance

All Columns and Subjects

Sticking Your Neck Out - Chiropractic and Neck Pain
B.S., I Love You - The Many Myths of Goji Berries
No, We Can't Be Friends - Physical Effects of Heartbreak
The 60-Watt Sugar Cone - Compact Fluorescent Lightbulbs
Attractive Nuisance - Magnetic Supports
Mind over Platter - Hypnosis and Weight Loss
Rhythm and Blues - Biorhythms
Field of Dreams - Electric Blankets and Health
The Porcelain Cup Workout - Green Tea
Bless You for Tweezing - Sneezing and Tweezing
Type O, Please..Hold the Garlic - Drinking Blood
A Little Slippery with the Facts - Moisturizers
Kefir Madness - Kefir Beverage
One-A-Day, Plus Irony - Multivitamins and Antioxidants
All Manner of Deflation - Goatheads
Weed Control - Niacin and Drug Tests
Wink Wink, Nudge Nudge - Eye Twitching
Transcendental Publication - The StressEraser
Putting the Moo in Smoothie - Live Cell Therapy
In Rust We Trust - AquaDetox
Seasonings for Seasonals - Oregano Oil, Peppermint Oil and Allergies
State of the Urine Address - Saw Palmetto
I Spy with my Little Eye - Iridology
Golden Arches - Orthotics
Sound Judgment - Infrasound
Refractive Error Messages - Bates Method
Public Displays of Infection - Bathroom Handwashing
The Pucker-Up Prophylactic - Cranberry Juice
Skittles, Extra Strength - Vitamin C Powder and Canker Sores
Every Party Needs a Pooper - Colon Hydrotherapy
Flash Point - Black Cohosh
Gross Anatomy - Tears, Snot and a Good Blow
The Womb Room - Isolation Tanks
The Morning-after Bouquet - Bad Breath
Getting an Earful - Tinnitus and Hearing Loss
The Return Trip from Bountiful - Ibogaine for Addiction
When Goobers Attack - Peanut Allergy
Elevation Rejuvenation - Altitude and Aging
Serenade for Two Organs - Why does your stomach growl?
Future Hype Guaranteed - Astragalus Supplements
Nature's Diet Coach - Tapeworms
Piddles, not Pills - Drinking your own Urine (repeat)
700% More Hot Air - Oxygenated Water
Pond Scum - Blue-Green Algae
Ligament Leaching Lattes - Manganese Supplements
Steeped in Secrecy - Essiac Cancer Tea
Calf Wrestling - Nighttime Leg Cramps
Baby Food - Colostrum Supplements
Indian-style Hot Pretzels - Bikram Yoga
Reef Belief - Coral Calcium
Stiletto Heals? - Reflexology
Science-y Fiction - LifeWave Energy Patches
ThroatSwab SquarePants - Nasty Sponges
Blister Blocker - Sunscreens
Lunacycles - Jet Lag and Melatonin
Burps per Minute - The Hiccups
Numbing Nibbles - Chewing Ice
Not for Use on Toads - Warts and Duct Tape
Charmless Bracelet - The Q-Ray Bracelet
Polly wants a Gas Mask - The Dangers of Teflon
The Lost Gospels of Julia Child - Ezekiel Bread
This Cure Really Bites - Shark Cartilage
High Anxiety - Kava Kava
Immaculate Complexion - Tea Tree Oil
Oscar Meyer Vindaloo - Curry and Turmeric
Shrink Wrap - The Body Wrap
Girls Gone Wireless - Magneurol, The Psychic Pill
Piddles, not Pills - Drinking Your Own Urine
Chi Toes - The Chi Machine
Flu Fighter a la Fear Factor - Kimchi & Bird Flu
Your Preference Under the Sheets - Mattresses
French (Poodle) Kisses - How Clean is Dog's Mouth?
Robosugar - Splenda Sweetener
The Royal Flush - Royal Jelly
A Lube Job in Emerald City - Glucosamine & Chondroitin
Cool It, Boys - Heat vs. Ice
How Elephants Fit in a Two-Piece - The Peanut Diet
The Midnight Show - Sleep Twitches/Myoclonic Jerks
Anti-Gravity Boots - Inversion Tables
Spot Remover - Arnica Gel
In-Flight Beverage Service - Airborne Cold Remedy
Mr. Bubble, meet The Sandman - Epsom Salts
Let's Get Crackin' - Cracking Knuckles and Arthritis
Clearing the Air - Ionizers and Ozone
Precious Purple Potions - Mangosteen Juice
Hop on Pop - Carbonation and Bone Health
Consider it Liquid Sushi - Cod Liver & Fish Oil
The Eat Like a Bushman Diet - Hoodia gordonii
A New Way to Wash Your Face - Neti Pots
A Pate Worse than Death - Baldness Remedies
Bubbeleh, Have a Little Nosh - Starve a Cold?
Well Protected Cat Naps - Valerian Root
Everlasting Tarnish - Colloidal Silver
Play Hide the Vitamin - Sublingual B12
Fitness in Ten Thousand Easy Steps - Pedometers
The Night Before Pill - Hangover Prevention Pills
The Get Out the Bloat Campaign - 8 Glasses of Water a Day?
Popeye’s New Can Isn’t Spinach - Energy Drinks
Just Nuke 'Em - Microwave Ovens
Fire One Up - Ear Candles

Released on your own Recognizance: The 100th and Final Column

2008-03-26T08:50:00.001-07:00

When I started this column nearly three years ago, I believed I would find enough controversial alternative treatments and questionable dietary supplements to keep me happily occupied for thirty or forty weeks. I was fully expecting to add in healthcare topics from the news, descriptions of the most entertaining diseases, and other desperate miscellany fit to fill this space. To my complete surprise, before even coming close to exhausting alternative medicine’s supply of kooky, the kooky has exhausted me—this will be the last of The Antidote. But before I leave my tiny, bald-headed photo to yellow and crack, I’m obliged to repeat what has become my not-so-subtle refrain: When you hear extraordinary claims, you should demand extraordinary proof.

Whether promoting dubious supplements (like shark cartilage), quasi-diagnostic procedures (like reflexology) or borderline treatments (like detoxifying foot baths), a common marketing ploy is to misrepresent the evidence—should any exist. By my measure, most purveyors in these categories have little desire to know the truth of what they offer. The real difference between the fringes of medicine and medicine itself is that the latter requires proof. Those who seek the truth base their opinion on peer-reviewed, controlled clinical trials because they understand that even good researchers can be misled by their own pre-conceived ideas.

Yet the most careful of us, myself included, can be fooled into giving credit where none is due. Because most common ailments are self-limiting, they run a natural course that ends relatively quickly. Even chronic or incurable diseases have good days and bad days. A quirk of human behavior finds us often waiting until symptoms are the most severe before we look to a cure—generally at the bottom of the health-sickness-health cycle. And when we feel better, the glory is given to the remedy. This often results in a sincere and honest—yet misguided—testimonial that ultimately draws another group toward the panacea.

Which brings me to Airborne. I wrote about this fizzy vitamin tablet in late 2005 and, in a case of perfect timing (for me, anyway), the company recently agreed to a $23 million settlement for falsely advertising their product could cure or prevent the common cold. Despite having virtually no data to support their claims, the makers of Airborne made well over $100 million based on nothing more than testimonials and word of mouth. There is probably no better example of selective perception or confirmation bias: The completely normal psychological behavior in which information that supports a belief is recalled, while any that contradicts it is ignored or discounted. For example, you note that you took Airborne before your plane flight and didn’t get sick, yet you forget the dozens of prior trips that ended with you equally sound. And if you took Airborne and still got sick, you might say to yourself, “I guess I didn’t take it early enough” or “I knew I should’ve taken more.”

Confirmation bias, misperceived coincidences and the well-known placebo effect are all part of a system by which many therapies appear to work—and in some cases actually do. Therein lies my ethical dilemma: Have these 100 columns of myth busting destroyed the actual benefits that some have enjoyed? Are these self-deceptions ever warranted? I’ve wrestled with these questions since beginning The Antidote and am still not certain of the answer. I am sure, however, that today we have a choice to know the truth of a supplement or therapy. In my opinion, those who choose to seek reality are destined to be healthier, wiser and, in most cases, be left with significantly more in their wallets.

Enjoying health freedom, as we do in this country, has a cost. The price is allowing nearly unregulated promotion of any new remedy, so long as no overt claim of preventing or treating disease is made. Though marketers may call something “natural,” that doesn’t mean it’s also safe and effective—the fluid expressed from the anal gland of my cat is all natural, organic and has no additives or preservatives, but I still wouldn’t put it in my smoothie. Likewise, I encourage you to see past nonsense verbs like “balances,” “stimulates” or “supports” and especially approach anything that claims to “detoxify” with suspicion. Most of the time, these words cover the fact that no credible evidence exists to back their statements.

Rather than end on a preachy note—especially after I’ve trained you to expect bitchy—I’ll simply leave you with this: The likelihood that the true cure for all disease will be sold by your hairstylist, massage therapist or brother-in-law is only slightly higher than the odds of convincing me to sell it.

Dr. Ed Rabin is a chiropractor practicing at Life Chiropractic Center in Boise. Those still unclear may send MLM business opportunities to theantidote@edrabin.com (on the Web at www.edrabin.com).

Sticking your Neck Out: Chiropractic and Neck Pain

2008-03-12T08:47:00.001-07:00

I am a literature major in my final semester and I have to read about four novels and write two to three papers per week. So much time spent reading and writing often leaves me in severe back, neck and shoulder pain. I try to do at least 20 minutes of yoga a day, if I can. Also, I break things up by cleaning or watching television or going outside between homework since I can’t sit in one position for more than 15 minutes. But no matter what I do, I usually just hurt from my shoulders up. What can I do? I ask not just for me, but for all studentkind. —Jenny R., Boise

Finally. A chiropractic question. After dozens and dozens of articles, you would think I would have been given an opening for a self-serving column about neck pain before now. Apparently, though, topics like irrigating your colon, dieting with tapeworms and drinking your own urine are somehow more interesting than adjusting spinal fixations. OK, I have to admit, those subjects actually are more interesting. So maybe I’m in the wrong business. Does anybody know if DeVry still offers the Careers in Kooky Medicine degree program?

But before I change careers, Jenny, I must tell you that your pain is very likely due to the position of your head when you study. Unless you’re at The Flicks watching Wuthering Heights instead of actually reading the novel, your head is probably in a forward, bowed position. While this is normal for short periods of studying, if you lead with your head when you’re, say, walking to class, it could mean trouble. Called “forward head posture,” this awkward position puts stress on the muscles at the back of the neck. To illustrate, imagine keeping a bowling ball balanced upright by holding one end of a foot-long stick placed in one of the fingerholes. Holding it straight up is easy, but tilt it slightly forward and your forearm muscles will quickly burn hotter than Heathcliff on the moors. In that same way, carrying your head forward can make your neck and shoulder muscles ache.

Unfortunately, the fix is not as easy as simply standing up straight. That forward head position is often a result of losing the normal curve in the neck. This curve is a natural shock absorber and can be lost for many reasons—injuries or accidents, habitually sleeping on your stomach or even a few seemingly minor “stiff necks.” Whichever the cause, the usual result is a muscle spasm that will tightly lock down the vertebrae and their joints. Eventually, the spasm relaxes and those vertebrae usually pop loose and begin moving freely again. Sometimes, though, one or more joints don’t release, and those bones stay somewhat stuck together.

Chiropractors call this fixation or subluxation. After months or years, the surrounding muscles and ligaments become accustomed the lack of motion and can shorten or become less flexible. So simply standing straight and pulling your head backward, won’t just be uncomfortable, it’ll be as fruitless as the farm in The Grapes of Wrath. All your good intentions and all those aspirin, creams and massages won’t free those joints—only some form of mobilization can release them properly. On this, and very little else, chiropractors seem to agree (if you haven’t noticed, we are mostly contrary misfits, otherwise we’d have gone to medical school).

My advice to first and foremost get your spine checked is not simply self-indulgent practice building (that’s just a bonus); there is significant evidence behind it. In 2003, the medical journal Spine published a paper describing a clinical trial involving 115 patients with neck pain similar to yours. Up against medication and acupuncture, spinal manipulation resolved the pain in the highest proportion of patients. More importantly, however, the following year a review article looked at 33 previously published, randomized clinical trials involving neck pain. The conclusion was that mobilization techniques definitely work, but they must be combined with exercise to maintain any lasting benefit.

Which brings me to your yoga. Without regard to its ancient spiritual history, the core of yoga is slow, ergonomically perfect stretching—I highly recommend continuing. Focus on positions that open your chest and shoulders, and extend your head up and back. As for reading, reclining on a bed or couch will make things worse by forcing your head and neck into flexion. Do your reading and writing at a desk or table, or sit erect in a comfortable chair with armrests. Finally, be careful not to judge my profession by the neck mobilizations described in A Tale of Two Cities: guillotines were never part of the curriculum—not even at DeVry.

Dr. Ed Rabin is a chiropractor practicing at Life Chiropractic Center in Boise. Send the Book-of-the-Month and health-related questions to theantidote@edrabin.com (on the Web at www.edrabin.com).

B.S. I Love You: Goji Berries

2008-02-22T08:45:00.001-07:00

I’m wondering your opinion of the juice from the Tibetan goji berry. A good friend, who I trust, told me that drinking it forced her breast cancer into remission. Her cancer was real, I know, because we’ve been friends since college at ISU. She now sells the juice because she believes in it so strongly, and wants me to try it for an arthritic shoulder I’ve been nursing. I’m pretty skeptical by nature, but I’m tempted to buy some. — Laurie A., Boise

You are not the first to ask me about these berries—goji juice has suddenly gotten more buzz than a German shepherd sniffing Lindsay Lohan’s luggage. The parade of exotic elixirs such as the Tibetan goji began a few years back with mangosteen juice, followed quickly by the squeezings of the smelly Hawaiian noni. While the price tag on each has grown progressively, the credibility level has fallen close to zero. And as pleased as I am about your friend’s cancer remission, I feel fairly confident saying her recovery had little to do with the goji. To paraphrase what one Australian journalist brusquely concluded, “The most active ingredient in goji juice is bullshit.” Pithy they are, those Aussies.

Before their apparent enchantment, goji berries were simply known as common Asian wolfberries. These fruits, when fresh, are fairly small, orange-red berries. They are tender and bruise easily so it is unusual to find fresh wolfberries outside their country of cultivation. Most are dried like raisins for distribution or export. Nearly all the Tibetan goji berries found in the west come not from Tibet, but from commercial agriculture in central and northern China. Though the leaders of the People’s Republic may disagree, China is not Tibet.

The South China Morning Post actually sent a reporter to Tibet to find the picturesque, wild-harvested goji berry crop described so vividly in the marketing pieces of a major juice distributor. He found hardly a wolfberry bush in the entire country, and even the nomadic gatherers he encountered—who depend on the land for subsistence—didn’t recognize the berry when he showed it. So why would promoters falsely claim goji berries are grown in Tibet? Perhaps the stigma of China’s polluted environment and tainted exports makes the reputation of Tibet’s ancient wisdom and purity somewhat more appealing. And with this first little half-truth, the snowball of deceptive hype began rolling toward the desperately ill.

Despite the inherent absurdity, the cancer-cure claim is surprisingly common. So, too, are assertions that the juice is an antidote for impotence, cellulite, sleep disorders and normal aging. In my recycle bin sit reams of faxes (and glossy brochures dropped off by roving bands of multi-level marketers) suggesting that, by comparison, penicillin must be a mere cough drop. Like many other fruits, the wolfberry has long been a part of Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM). But even among these classic herbalists, its uses have generally been limited to providing relief from skin irritation, aches, coughs and mild inflammatory conditions. Aside from TCM, the use of the wolfberry in Asia is primarily as a flavoring for rice dishes, wine and beer.

In the medical literature, there has been precisely one published clinical trial examining the effects of goji berries in relationship to cancer. Unfortunately the text is in Chinese, but the English abstract indicates that goji may have had a beneficial effect in combination with one, relatively outdated, cancer treatment. Sounds great, but it appears to have been a preliminary study with never a completed follow-up. Not exactly the kind of bulletproof data necessary to start closing the hospitals. To be fair, the goji berry is a good source of antioxidants and vitamin C—but not the best source. Compared to an equivalent serving of this mystic panacea, there are significantly more antioxidants in ordinary blueberries and more vitamin C in a single kiwi fruit. Even if the berry was a nutrient gold mine, many goji juices are “blends,” meaning any goji therein is mixed with an often-unlisted amount of other processed juices.

Laurie, the real danger is not that goji juice is a waste of money. My fear is that the misguided trust your friend (and others) place in these elixirs will delay critical medical treatment. But it’s understandable that after surviving a hellish illness, her faith in a $50 bottle of romanticized juice could not be easily shaken by a know-it-all like me pushing a $2 bag of frozen blueberries. So I’ll relent, and maybe I’ll even buy a bottle from her; I know a guy in Australia who could use a cure for potty-mouth.

Dr. Ed Rabin is a chiropractor practicing at Life Chiropractic Center in Boise. Send Qantas flight schedules and health-related questions to theantidote@edrabin.com (on the Web at www.edrabin.com).

No, We Can’t Be Friends: Heartbreak

2008-02-13T08:41:00.001-07:00

Apparently mistaking me for “The Love Goddess” columnist, the editors of BW have asked me to discuss the physical effects of heartbreak for this Valentine’s Day issue. I can only assume the request indicates a concern for those of you who read the paper this far back into the classifieds. The idea, I believe, is to save you from turning one more page—to the phone sex ads.

Heartbreak (or simply “Prom” as it’s known in high school) is a common result of rejection, loss or the ending of a relationship via divorce, physical separation or some schmuck’s unilateral decision. Whatever the cause, a broken heart may, indeed, cause the physical symptoms associated with anxiety, sleeplessness and loss of appetite. And though the emotional ramifications are even more pronounced, both pale in comparison to the creative ones: For every Shakespeare that produces a tortured Romeo and Juliet, we unfortunately get a Good Luck Chuck, an American Pie: Band Camp and several mini-series on Lifetime, Television for Women.

The heart, of course, has long been considered the seat of our emotions and the home of the soul. Over time, the organ has also become the iconic symbol of romantic love. Along with fat, flying babies wielding weapons, little hearts mark the corners of every pink Hallmark card papering the aisles of Rite Aid. And, given the physical consequences of Cupid’s arrow being ripped from your chest, their location in a drug store may be strangely appropriate.

A few years ago, researchers published a study in the New England Journal of Medicine identifying a pattern of symptoms occurring in those having experienced a sudden emotional stress such as unexpected breakup, abrupt revelation or severe grief. Calling it Broken Heart Syndrome (BHS), they described a condition that mimics a heart attack, but occurs in a generally healthy person with few or no cardiac risk factors. The flood of emotion appears to cause an equivalent flood of adrenaline—a stress hormone that, at high levels, can be toxic to heart tissue. Technically a “stress cardiomyopathy,” BHS affects women primarily, but both sexes can quickly die from the stun to the heart.

If identified quickly and treated appropriately, BHS can resolve in a few days and leave the patient with no lasting physical damage. Emotionally though, the stress of a breakup, death or shock may linger. Various studies over the last couple of decades have shown that those surviving the death of a spouse have an understandably high rate of depression, alcohol use and accidental death. But, they also have more cancer and heart disease. One explanation for this curious finding may be that stress itself suppresses immune function and slows disease recovery. This link between stress and illness almost certainly translates over to the unfortunate casualties of love.

Conventional treatment for a broken heart does not exist, unless you count getting cornball platitudes from Dr. Phil. Short periods of self-pity, anger or isolation are perfectly normal, but if these last weeks or months, a visit to a psychologist or trained counselor may be appropriate. Early on, established coping methods, such as exercise, may offer considerable help. Exercise increases production of endorphins, the naturally occurring feel-good chemicals that elevate mood. A secondary benefit of strenuous activity is an improved quality of sleep—especially important for any physical or psychological recuperation. And not to be overlooked is the feeling of accomplishment and control that exercise provides—a helpful boost for diminished self-esteem. Other pearls of wisdom are spread generously through women’s magazines (my Redbook subscription: now tax-deductible): Never try to remain friends, pack away those concert ticket stubs for future reminiscing, and—should you wear down your friends—a call to the heartbreak help line can allow you to tell your sob story to someone who has volunteered to hear it. (Note to self for future column: analyze link between help line volunteers and ownership of an inordinate number of cats.)

A broken heart never heals in a linear fashion; be prepared to retrace your steps many times along the way. An important thing to remember is that you wouldn’t feel so awful if you weren’t equally capable of feeling the joy of being in love. You may just have to trust that another flying baby will eventually target your heart again (i.e. Brad Pitt, post-Jennifer Anniston). But, if my own cornball platitudes don’t convince you, I suppose there are always those ads two pages over. Be warned, however, those kittens over in Adopt-A-Pet are tough to get past.

Dr. Ed Rabin is a chiropractor practicing at Life Chiropractic Center in Boise. Send your dozen dead roses and health-related questions to theantidote@edrabin.com (on the Web at www.edrabin.com).

The 60-Watt Sugar Cone: Compact Fluorescent Lightbulbs

2008-01-30T08:38:00.001-07:00

Saturday I drove my biodiesel VW Jetta to the Co-op for some organic fruits and veggies, sorted my recycling and installed new compact fluorescent bulbs. Why-o-why do I now, days later, feel that something is amiss? Am I merely moping after watching my Packers lose on Sunday or are these new light bulbs not all they’re cracked up to be? My biggest concern is that the energy savings is not worth the potential health risk. Isn’t fluorescent lighting generally bad? —DJC, Boise

It’s not common knowledge, but I’m all about fighting global warming. Years back, I freely offered the government my suggestion to float used Styrofoam packing peanuts all around the Arctic Circle to reflect back the sunlight. In my view, they would be a perfect replacement for those melty old ice caps—I was surprised to receive no support. And, sure, I’ll admit my next proposal for the big exhaust fan positioned over the ozone hole was not well thought out, but did I really deserve a security escort out of the Senate building for the ”Drive With Your AC Running and Windows Open” initiative?

Using similar reasoning, the resemblance of a compact fluorescent lamp (CFL) to Dairy Queen soft-serve cone is a major part of its climate cooling effect (I should be careful here; fans of The Secret may take me seriously). Although they’ve been around for about 20 years, it is only recently that CFL’s have become widely accepted as one small step in improving the global warming/carbon emission problem. Compared to standard incandescent bulbs, compact fluorescents use about a quarter of the energy for equivalent light output and can last 10 to 15 times longer. These clear advantages have some countries, such as Australia and Ireland, announcing intentions to ban incandescent bulbs within a few years.

Until your letter, I was blissfully unaware of any real drawbacks to CFL’s—other than my own difficulty jamming them into fixtures. Apparently, the current manufacture of these bulbs—with their multiple parts, internal electronics, and heavy plastic packaging—seems to use significantly more energy and more resources, while creating more pollution, than traditional incandescents. Equally concerning, the bulbs contain mercury, though not a large amount. Still, this makes end-of-life disposal a logistical (and energy consuming) problem, since throwing them into the regular garbage will ultimately release the toxic metal into the environment. What’s worse is if they break during your own fixture-jamming activities, careful cleanup is critical and mildly hazardous.

The new twisty CFL’s, as well as the old tubular office fluorescents, produce light by electrically exciting a powdery, white phosphor coating inside them. This requires production of ultraviolet light (UV), the same rays that can damage skin. About five percent of fluorescent light’s output is UV, which escapes past the phosphor and glass. Some especially sensitive people believe that exposure to any fluorescent light causes them headaches, fatigue, an inability to concentrate or worse. These complaints may actually be attributed to the earlier phosphor formulations (and the unpleasant colors they create) or the not-so-subtle flickering that old-style bulbs often produce. Ultimately though, the most seemingly-credible indictment of fluorescent light was a short-lived scare, 25 years ago, regarding those escaping UV rays.

In 1982, the authors of a study published in The Lancet demonstrated a significant increase in malignant melanoma among women who worked in fluorescently lit offices. Over the next five years or so (while office workers presumably set up tarps), several other studies tried to reproduce these results. That feat was never accomplished. It seems the original findings were flawed—another example of the danger of relying on any single research study. Acrylic diffusers (those brittle panels over ceiling fixtures) block nearly all UV light. Additionally, the distance above workers that these lights are usually installed probably explains the lack of UV-related health effects. Other complaints, like fatigue and mind wandering, have never been demonstrated—or even mentioned—in recognized medical literature. Perhaps Mr. Coffee may offer some assistance here; his office is in the break room.

Global considerations aside, fluorescent light has little associated risk. New formulations of phosphor have resulted in a more natural-seeming light, with improved color rendering and less UV leakage. In CFL’s at least, replacement of the buzzing magnetic ballasts with electronic ones has largely eliminated flicker. And lately, manufacturers have begun voluntarily lowering mercury content at the same time retailers have agreed to provide recycling. All my idea, of course. It’s amazing how quickly crusades can be undertaken once a guy finally learns to spell “fluorescent.”

Dr. Ed Rabin is a chiropractor practicing at Life Chiropractic Center in Boise. Send discarded office sombreros and health-related questions to theantidote@edrabin.com (on the Web at www.edrabin.com).

Attractive Nuisance: Magnetic Supports

2008-01-16T08:35:00.001-07:00

As a New Year’s resolution, I am hereby publicly committing to get back in shape. I’d like to use the elliptical machine I own, but I always get a sore back about an hour after every workout. The husband of the woman with whom I share an office cubicle sells magnetic support belts, and she swears hers really helps. I hesitate to spend that kind of money for some refrigerator magnets glued inside a back brace unless you tell me it’s a good idea. So give it up, doc. —Roberta McC., Boise

A belt like that could be useful—at least around the office. If your co-worker wears hers at work, the thing would be a great place to store paperclips and bent staples. But unless you’re Batman, that’s about the only purpose for a magnetic belt. Nonetheless, I applaud your plan to get fit for the new year. Regular workouts will definitely be helpful when your cubemate eventually backs into the metal filing cabinet; you’ll need all the strength you can muster just to yank her free.

Her husband, I presume, sells more than back belts: magnetized bracelets, wrist supports, shoe insoles, mattress pads—even bottled water—are now sold by both retail chains and through multi-level marketing. A recent journal article estimated sales in the U.S. at $300 million, and about $1 billion worldwide. These huge figures cannot be explained by the dubious effectiveness of the products; they are almost certainly due to the famous athletes endorsing them. Largely from sports populated by affluent amateurs (golf and tennis), paid celebrities give seemingly sincere testimonials, but ultimately promote the baseless idea that magnets have miraculous healing power.

Enthusiastic users, often members of a multi-level sales force, describe magnetic products to prospective customers with meaningless words and phrases reminiscent of a Bush press conference. Magnets (similar to, oddly, new Iraqi governments) “remove disharmony,” “facilitate congruency” and “redirect energy flow.” Perhaps the most interesting rationale for selling magnets, other than for securing children’s artwork to refrigerators, is this: because the earth’s electromagnetic field is weakening, magnets are necessary to restore your personal magnetic balance. Ah, that pesky personal magnetic balance; finally an explanation why my favorite Clay Aiken cassette keeps erasing when I hold it, lovingly, close to my heart.

There are, in truth, actual medical uses for magnets. A new procedure called Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation sends strong electromagnetic pulses across the brain, and may be helpful for depression and Parkinson’s disease. Smaller magnetic oscillations are used by orthopedists to stimulate slow healing fractures and, of course, there is MRI diagnostic imaging. However, visualizing anatomy in cases of injury or disease with the strong magnet of an MRI has not, so far as I know, resulted in spontaneous healing.

Lists of research studies show absolutely no effect of weak magnets on health, while only a relative few indicate need for further study. The Canadian Medical Association Journal published an evaluation of 29 different, well-designed studies of magnets used for pain relief. It concluded that the evidence shows no merit for pain conditions, but did suggest more study for uses in osteoarthritis.

Naturally, the facts haven’t slowed sales. A common claim made by purveyors is that magnets increase circulation, and thereby speed healing. That does make logical sense if one knows that blood contains hemoglobin, and hemoglobin contains iron. But, experiments show that the four separate iron atoms in each hemoglobin molecule are actually not magnetic at all. It seems that large numbers of iron atoms must be packed tightly together in order for them to become attractive—much like the audience at a Clay Aiken concert. As one critic pointed out, if blood were indeed attracted to magnets, placing one briefly on the skin would leave a little red mark.

This is not to say that your co-worker is being dishonest about her pain relief. She is likely benefiting simply from the support itself, not the magnets inside. The same applies to happy golfers with magnetic carpal tunnel wrist wraps and arch supports (benefits of orthopedic supports are medically well-established). Plus, a person’s resolve not to have wasted $85 adds additional encouragement, often resulting in a strong, physically helpful placebo effect.

Other than overpaying, contributing to your office cellmate’s dreams of financial freedom is relatively harmless—unless it keeps you from getting a proper diagnosis. In my experience, low back pain following elliptical machine use is quite common; I’d advise a quick check-up and exercise recommendations from your doctor. But if he suggests a magnetic mattress pad, an abrupt run out of his office would be a good first workout.

Dr. Ed Rabin is a chiropractor practicing at Life Chiropractic Center in Boise. Send Clay’s empty bronzer bottles and health-related questions to theantidote@edrabin.com (on the Web at www.edrabin.com).

Mind over Platter: Hypnosis and Weight Loss

2008-01-02T08:32:00.001-07:00

I’m a big fan of food, but not so much of working out. Is there any truth to the buzz I hear that hypnosis can help me lose weight? —Megan, your very own Office Manager

Clearly, we’re not keeping you busy enough. I expect you’ve heard this buzzing from our patient who has dropped a few pounds and attributes it to visiting her hypnotherapist. What you don’t know—since you’re not often in the treatment room—is that when I recently happened to say the word “Thanksgiving,” her eyes glazed over and she began to gobble like a turkey. Unsure that it was hypnosis-related, I hastily mentioned Mardi Gras without thinking it through. I’m now eternally grateful to my high school Judo coach for teaching that masterful arm block kept her from spontaneously lifting her blouse.

Perhaps that’s not fair. Hypnosis, of course, is more than just regressing stockbrokers back to pre-school in front of a live audience. But, like any good skeptic, I must first question whether it is an authentic craft and whether the so-called trance has any validity. Apparently, the answer to both is yes (stage performers notwithstanding). A good amount of research—some using brain scans—demonstrates the existence of a distinct hypnotic state characterized by a combination of relaxation, concentration and suggestibility. It seems that the brain can actually switch into a condition where it accepts, without verifying, incoming sensory information—temporarily muffling its typical decision-making abilities. Remarkably, there is little dispute over hypnosis as an effective palliative for chronic pain conditions (cancer, for example). The technique, too, shows promise for easing acutely painful procedures like bone-marrow aspiration or wound cleaning. But, like pre-school naptime, not everyone goes down without a fight.

Susceptibility to hypnosis varies among individuals, and is surprisingly unrelated to a person’s gullibility, submissiveness or even the extent of their imagination. Careful personality analysis has shown that it is, instead, your capacity to become completely absorbed in activities like reading, daydreaming or listening to music that is the best measure of your hypnotic responsiveness. So if we accept that hypnosis is real, its usefulness for weight loss depends upon yet another presumption: a post-hypnotic suggestion must last, at the very least, through your next meal.

Post-hypnotic suggestions are those instructions given by the hypnotist that compel a person to, say, perform the chicken dance whenever someone sneezes. In weight control sessions, the guidance may include positive body image statements, fondness or aversion toward certain foods, or encouragement for exercise. Despite the myriad sitcoms showing people doing, essentially, the chicken dance days and days after being hypnotized, it is a not-so-public fact that post-hypnotic suggestions are generally short-lived and decay quickly. With this in mind, any promises of single-session, instant and dramatic weight loss should be filed under the category of wishes, not treatment.

However, hypnosis can work. Unfortunately for those who want a quick fix, it is only in combination with true psychotherapy that hypnosis has proven to be effective. For example, a 1998 randomized and controlled study found that, after measuring total weight lost, dietary advice with hypnotherapy only barely defeated that same advice alone. But added to real cognitive behavioral therapy, other investigations have found hypnotism to be a much more effective adjunct. The necessity for simultaneous psychotherapy suggests that conditions having significant behavioral components—like weight control, smoking or other addictions—are more resistant to hypnosis, whereas less complex issues like anxiety or insomnia respond fairly quickly.

It should be noted that all the above research used one-on-one hypnosis by trained and certified therapists. Audio CDs or tapes providing guided self-hypnosis, with or without subliminal encoding, have not been proven to have any effect whatsoever—with the exception of a relaxation stupor sufficient for sleeping through dinner. Although testimonials abound on the Internet and elsewhere (including our own waiting room), a significant placebo effect may occur when a person truly believes a therapist or audiotape has changed their eating habits; it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. There is nothing inherently wrong with that, but individuals may sacrifice lasting benefit by avoiding responsibility for their own behavior.

Megan, becoming enthused about exercise would definitely be better than a hypnosis-only plan. And I can certainly help by finding some heavy file boxes for you to move and some exhausting errands to run. But don’t let me stop you from combining hypnotherapy with a real weight—control program, though I’d love to speak with the therapist first. I can think of a number of patients who would pay top dollar to see you do the chicken dance.

Dr. Ed Rabin is a chiropractor practicing at Life Chiropractic Center in Boise. Send “The Amazing Kreskin” and health-related questions to theantidote@edrabin.com (on the Web at www.edrabin.com).

Rhythm and Blues: Biorhythms

2007-12-19T08:28:00.000-07:00

As I absently stare at my personalized Google homepage, trying to decide how best to waste my time here at work, I notice that my embedded biorhythm Google gadget says that my physical and intellectual cycles are on downswings and my emotional biorhythm is near its peak. Ignoring the fact that I actually got it together to e-mail this question, could that be why I’m so lethargic today? —Anthony L., West Boise

I doubt it. Your depression is more likely due to Google buying-up your company and replacing you with a three-line algorithm. Next, I expect that you and the other staff members will be promptly digitized and stored in your own Gmail accounts. Buck up, though. Your family should still be able to download you for the holidays—assuming you aren’t corrupted. Farfetched? Maybe, but it nonetheless remains a much more probable scenario than that your biorhythm is causing your sluggishness.

Those fun little biorhythm charts are based on a theory that some take quite seriously. Adherents say that our behavior, attitudes and aptitudes are directly affected by cyclic biological rhythms. Beginning at the moment of birth and continuing until our death, three main cycles are allegedly in motion: a 23-day physical (strength, endurance), 28-day emotional (mood, creativity) and a 33-day intellectual rhythm (memory, reasoning). Whether a particular cycle is rising, falling or crossing a baseline supposedly determines your capacity in that category, and knowing the relative positions is said to provide guidance for your daily challenges.

Proposed in the late 1890’s by German physician Wilhelm Fleiss, the original philosophy included only the 23 and 28-day cycles, which he considered the male and female rhythms respectively. The latter, coinciding with menstruation, he misogynistically labeled the “emotional” cycle. Some twenty years later, an Austrian teacher added the 33-day intellectual cycle based on, apparently, nothing more than the variations in quality of his student’s work. With even less rigor, if that’s possible, newer cycles like intuition and spirituality have now been added. Seriously, if that’s all it takes, I propose a 30-day financial cycle, as I’ve noticed my bank account going negative every month. Like clockwork.

Fliess was an ear, nose and throat specialist, but had a strong interest in human psychology and behavior. Another of his ideas was that there is a specific spot, on a bone inside your sinuses, which can profoundly stimulate the genitals. In treating at least one case of pre-menstrual syndrome, he actually surgically removed this bone, resulting in severe disfigurement of his patient (who likely never again mentioned her PMS to a doctor). Strangely enough, and for quite some time, Fliess was among the closest confidants of psychiatrist Sigmund Freud. There is evidence that part of Fliess’ biorhythm theory—that all people are affected by both male and female cycles—had a significant and lasting influence on Freud’s ideas on bisexuality. At some point (I’m guessing during the erotic sinus period), Freud broke off contact with Fliess and destroyed all correspondence he had received from him. But, as luck would have it, Freud’s own letters to Fliess were saved and ultimately published.

Despite the fact that some biological rhythms are real (such as circadian rhythms of sleep/wakefulness and animal hibernation/aestivation), the biorhythm hypothesis fails nearly every scientific test—especially my logic smell-test. For example, why would these cycles begin exactly at the moment of birth? Why not at conception? How can it be explained that biorhythms remain unerringly constant—never slowing or accelerating—despite illness, geographic heritage, or simple variation among individuals? Lest you think that I’m merely on an emotional swing, there’s a comprehensive review article in a 1998 issue of Psychological Reports that evaluated 134 biorhythm studies, concluding that the theory is neither valid nor supported.

Truthfully, there’s little harm to be found in monitoring these prophecies, even if you plan your life around them. Sure, there are those who base relationships on rhythmic compatibility, but even they can find enough contradictory opinions to allow a date with almost anyone. They just choose between the ideas that “partners who cycle together travel life’s roads as one” and “partners out of sync are always there to support one another.”

My only advice is to avoid placing too much faith in the predictions. Passing the bar exam simply because you’re at an intellectual peak is about as likely as—you should forgive the crude Dr. Fliess reference—picking your nose and expecting an orgasm. Regardless, don’t worry about your new Google bosses noticing your biorhythm habit; they obviously believe in providence and serendipity themselves. How else can you explain the “I’m Feeling Lucky” button still on their search engine after all these years?

Dr. Ed Rabin is a chiropractor practicing at Life Chiropractic Center in Boise. Send nasal fetish videos and health-related questions to theantidote@edrabin.com (on the Web at www.edrabin.com).

Field of Dreams: Electric Blankets and Health

2007-12-05T08:26:00.000-07:00

I’ve used an electric blanket since I went off to college in Madison, where it’s colder than a nun’s buns. My current boyfriend won’t sleep under the blanket because he’s afraid of the electric field, and says it will make him sterile or give him cancer or something equally awful. I’ve heard this before from other guys I’ve dated, but have never seen any evidence. I usually take your advice, so which one gets the axe? Blanket or boyfriend? —PrincessSparklePony

I can hear his final exit line: “No, really, it’s not you, it’s the blanket.” Seems you’ve hit upon the perfect strategy to bring about a clean break. Your clever relationship-ending plan has the additional advantage of closing the door to any lingering “friends with benefits” expectations. The only drawback is the requirement that it be winter. Having to wait eight or nine months before pulling out the break-up blanket is significant dating time lost. Give me a week or so and I’ll try to come up with a summertime tactic involving some health risk associated with lying naked under a ceiling fan, trading spoonfuls of Haagen-Dazs.

Regardless of his possible faults, however, your boyfriend is right about one thing: There is an electric field created by the electric blanket. If fact, all electrical appliances generate an electromagnetic field (EMF). To be clear, EMF’s actually consist of two fields, an electric field and a magnetic field. The electric field is created by the voltage (how hard the electricity is being pushed through the wires) and the magnetic field is created by the current (how much electricity is being pushed). The good news is that most electric fields can be shielded by the design of the appliance, or physically, by walls or heavy casing. Unfortunately, magnetic fields—the focus of the health controversy—are difficult to block and can travel through most barriers and for long distances.

The public’s attention toward EMF risks began in the late 1990’s with some research that seemed to demonstrate a strong link between the proximity of homes near electric power lines and cases of childhood leukemia. Not surprisingly, a media frenzy occurred with newspaper headlines, magazine cover stories, and PBS documentaries. Unfortunate for the cause, however, was a revelation in 1999 that some of the results had been fabricated. Still, a massive number of new investigations were undertaken anyway and have since concluded that weak electric fields don’t result in negative health effects, but the magnetic fields just might. Cell phones, wireless networks and Blackberry handhelds appear to be clear of causing EMF-related health problems, which, here on the tarmac, I find faintly disappointing as I try to pass the insufferably loud, multi-tasking real estate associate blocking my window seat.

Specific studies of electric blankets and mattress pads show mixed findings as well, probably because most studies have looked at specific conditions only rather than general illness as a whole. For example, although the extensive Nurses Health Study—following 85,000 women over four years—found no association between electric blanket use and breast cancer, another smaller study showed a slight increase in risk for African-American women. A different investigation notes a somewhat higher risk of early term miscarriage in women sleeping under these blankets, and some new research has linked the devices to higher rates of endometrial cancer. Keep in mind, however, that most of these studies looked at long-term use of electric blankets and pads (decades, not months). Regardless of the final scientific verdict, my opinion is that sleeping directly underneath (or atop) what is certainly a strong electromagnetic field—while remaining an excellent way to scare off Mr. Wrong—is simply not worth the risk.

Yet another reason against regular use is that a higher nighttime body temperature can lead to more arousals (awakenings, I mean; tell that boyfriend to simmer down), which interfere significantly with proper sleep. Still, if you like a warm bed, there is no reason you can’t heat the empty bed with the blanket or pad, so long as you unplug it prior to settling in. Better yet, changing over to duvet or a thick, regular blanket instead should keep you just as cozy. Or simply wear socks to bed. Which, come to think of it, just may be a less-hazardous way to jettison a flickered-out flame. The one-piece flannel sleeper, with attached footies, is quite the relationship killer. If that doesn’t work, here’s one that never fails: introduce an insufferably loud, multi-tasking real estate associate as his future mother-in-law.

Dr. Ed Rabin is a chiropractor practicing at Life Chiropractic Center in Boise. Send broker anti-defamation literature and health-related questions to theantidote@edrabin.com (on the Web at www.edrabin.com).

The Porcelain Cup Workout: Green Tea

2007-11-21T08:22:00.000-07:00

I’m a guy, 34 years old, 5-feet 10-inches and weigh 205 pounds and have been trying to lose 40 pounds since August. I have only managed to lose five pounds even though I eat pretty good and workout some. A girl I work with said she saw Oprah say that drinking green tea will automatically make you lose weight by speeding up your metabolism. I only need an extra boost to curb my appetite. Is this true?? —Clay B.

I receive questions quoting a coworker’s health advice so often that I’m beginning to think a conspiracy is underfoot. It would be all too easy for some malevolent foreign nation to place agents in offices around this country to disseminate crazy health information and weird diet suggestions. Obviously, their evil plan would be to destroy our economy by picking off our workers, one by one. I recently tried to alert Alan Greenspan, the Chairman of the Federal Reserve, to my suspicions, but it seems he retired last year. Apparently, the new chairman, Ben Bernanke, must have told him he heard on Geraldo that the air in the United States Treasury would give him an itchy rash.

Realistically, Clay, if green tea were truly a cure for obesity, we’d surely know it by now. The bushy shrub used to make all true tea, Camellia sinensis, has been steeped in places all across Asia and the Middle East for millennia. Though it’s true that, for nearly as long, herbalists have been prescribing green tea for stomach, skin and heart ailments, its use for weight control has never been customary. Were it really a diet miracle, the now common addition of green tea to cakes, candy and ice cream would see all Weight Watchers meetings quickly moved into P.F. Chang’s.

Next to water, tea is the most widely consumed beverage across the globe. And, because all teas come from a single plant (herbal teas are technically infusions), it is the processing of the leaves—or lack thereof—that creates the wide variety of resulting brews. White teas are Camellia leaves, simply picked and dried, resulting in a very mild beverage. Leaves for green tea are generally steamed, pan fried or roasted, while those for black tea go through a full fermentation before they are dried. Within these general categories, additional modifications affect the final taste, such as growing the shrub in shade, mixing the leaves with roasted brown rice, or any number of other, subtler techniques.

Green tea’s weight loss reputation did begin with some encouraging research, but has ultimately been countered with opposing findings. The often-cited metabolism-quickening benefit is generally attributed to caffeine, though green tea supplies only a quarter of that found in coffee. Some studies show green tea slows the breakdown of starches resulting in a steadier release of glucose into the blood. But, this only means that it may be useful for diabetics (who benefit from stable blood sugar). In dieters, however, this finding is about as helpful as discount marshmallow Peeps.

This is not to say that green tea has no medical benefit. On the contrary, a recent issue of the Journal of American College of Surgeons suggested that daily consumption of this tea might explain the “Asian Paradox”—that being despite high rates of cigarette smoking, Asians show low rates of cardiovascular disease and cancer. Most theories point to antioxidants as the responsible party, as green tea contains high levels of certain compounds called polyphenols (black tea contains fewer due to its fermentation). Antioxidants stabilize the electron-stealing molecules called free radicals that damage cells and genetic material, though the evidence of this effect remains controversial.

In both 2005 and 2006, the United States Food and Drug Administration looked at all current research while evaluating the effect of green tea on cancer and heart disease. In both cases, the FDA concluded there was not sufficient evidence to make actual health claims for the brew. Published too late to be included for review, a huge Japanese study that followed more than 40,000 people over 11 years, recorded a significant decrease in mortality (total deaths from all causes) in people who drank about five cups of green tea per day.

So, while you shouldn’t expect green tea to help you lose weight, I certainly won’t discourage you from drinking it. The long-term health benefits just may defy the plot of your devious coworker. On that subject, you might let drop you saw Dr. Phil say foreign agents can be identified by their radioactive tooth fillings. If you catch her checking her gums in a hand mirror, call the State Department.

Dr. Ed Rabin is a chiropractor practicing at Life Chiropractic Center in Boise. Send those tiny little tea leaves and health-related questions to theantidote@edrabin.com (on the Web at www.edrabin.com).

Bless You for Tweezing: Sneezing and Tweezing

2007-11-07T08:17:00.000-07:00

Tell me this: Why do I sneeze every time I pluck my frickin’ eyebrows? —LizBeth

You must really go through the Windex. I don’t pretend to understand the high price women pay for beauty, but the thought of you holding a pointed object near your face while you repeatedly sneeze gives me the shivers. Could your body be trying to tell you that ripping individual hairs from its skin, one by one, is simply a bad idea? Shaving your brows is one option, I guess, though a sudden sneeze at the wrong moment might have more, shall we say, asymmetric ramifications.

The sneeze itself is a very odd thing. Perhaps the most violent reflex in the body—with the exception of the reaction to being sneezed upon—it is a completely involuntary expulsion of air following an unexpected stimulation of, most often, a nasal membrane. Although the seemingly obvious purpose is to blast an irritant out of your nose, the logic falters when you notice that we mostly sneeze out of our mouths. By we, I mean human adults. Any pet owner or parent can testify from sticky experience that dogs, cats and babies definitely sneeze out of their noses.

The trigger for the reflex can be likened to an itch, and is frequently an irritant like dust, pollen or cold air contacting the nasal mucosa. Although scratching the itch could be done with a finger, evolution has chosen instead a cascade of sudden inhalation, extreme muscle contraction and forceful exhalation. Immediately following the discharge, histamine is released to turn on a stream of mucous in an attempt to wash out the offending particle. So why in the world would the tweezing of an eyebrow hair cause this spontaneous cavalcade of activity? The answer is found, LizBeth, in the layout of the nerves of your face.

The trigeminal nerve, or fifth cranial nerve, has functions that include both muscle movement and sensation. One of its three branches, the ophthalmic, monitors and reports to the brain everything that happens in the nasal passages. But, as fate would have it, the same wiring relays messages from the skin of the forehead, eyelids, and a few other nearby locations. This overlap—worse in some people than in others—can confuse the brain into delivering a sneeze when a more appropriate response would be: “Cheese and Rice! Quit ripping out my hair!”

Another example of these crossed wires is known as photic sneezing, or sneezing caused by looking at the sun or other sources of bright light. Apparently, the reflexive sudden squinting of the eyes and forehead also sends a flash of signals through trigeminal nerve in the same manner as, say, pulling a nose hair. This short-circuiting seems to have a genetic component, as only about 25 percent of the population is compelled to sneeze when looking at bright lights.

Since your question was fairly straightforward and easily answered, there is room here to address some of the many myths about sneezing that get passed around like viruses. An elementary school favorite says that your eyes will pop out if you manage to keep them open when you sneeze. Another contends that your heart stops every time it happens. Though it would be a strange talent to keep your eyes open when you sneeze, and your heart may indeed momentarily slow, neither legend is true. Regardless, I plan to continue carrying an emergency pepper packet in case I find myself at a matinée of License to Wed. Ripping my eyes out or stopping my heart would be welcome relief.

Stifling a sneeze is a common practice among teenagers (for fun) and introverts (for social camouflage), despite essentially fictional warnings against bursting a brain aneurysm. Still, it’s not a good idea. Holding back a nearly-inevitable snot rocket may send microbe-laden fluid up the eustachian tube and cause an ear infection—or worse, in rare cases, the sudden rise in pressure can rupture the ear drum. Best advice: Just admit defeat and let it fly.

But cover your mouth. Sick or not, that sneeze can send infectious droplets flying at hurricane-force speeds of 100 miles per hour. Catch the mist in the crook of your arm or in a tissue, if possible, rather than your hands—unless, of course, there’s a make-up mirror in front of you. Sadly, there isn’t much to be done to prevent post-tweezing sneezing, though a brisk pre-pluck rub of the entire eyebrow area may help. Should it become unbearable, however, a vacation from epilation may be necessary. Worry not: There are worse things in life than looking like Brooke Shields.

Dr. Ed Rabin is a chiropractor practicing at Life Chiropractic Center in Boise. Send Russian eyebrow braiding techniques and health-related questions to theantidote@edrabin.com (on the Web at www.edrabin.com).

Type-O, Please, Hold the Garlic: Drinking Blood

2007-10-24T08:11:00.000-07:00

My dear Dr. Rabin, you drag more vampiric charlatans into the light of day than that do-gooder Van Helsing. Which brings us to today’s horrific inquiry: Is blood really good for you? The “Blood Countess” Elizabeth Bathory bathed in it; the Rolling Stones supposedly got (get?) transfusions regularly; and then, of course, there’s Dracula. Please reply soon because I have some important decisions to make by the end of the month. —R. Enfield (known, during daylight, as John R.)

Let’s be clear: Blood is essential, but homemade is still vastly superior to any, shall we say, imported variety. Authors like Anne Rice, and tough blondes like Buffy, have romanticized the blood-drinking characters that were—for hundreds of years—feared and reviled. Those suckers aren’t quite so scary anymore. Rather, sanguinarians (“vampire” is so 19th century) are now sensual, fearless, eternally youthful immortals with a social conscience. Hell, if Lestat would run in the primaries, he might even win New Hampshire.

To fully answer your question, I must address each of your supporting statements. Indeed, the Countess Elizabeth Bathory was a wealthy, Hungarian turn-of-the-17th-century serial killer who is most noted for accusations that her extreme vanity led to bathing in the blood of her victims. Her prey were mostly local peasant girls lured by offers of work, and Bathory ultimately dispatched each following severe beatings, mutilations and torture. There is little doubt she enjoyed this pastime, as plenty of evidence exists that she killed at least 30 women (and probably many more).

But according to historians, actually soaking herself in their blood is a beauty regime that appears completely invented. My own morbid calculations show that it would take at least fifteen victims, thoroughly exsanguinated, to provide enough blood for even a thin bath. Assuming for the moment she could work out the logistics, the lack of anti-coagulants might pose an additional problem; I suspect that even a hardened, narcissistic serial killer would be grossed-out sitting in a tub of clots.

Turning to The Stones, we can assume you’re alluding to an altogether different tale that guitarist Keith Richards had “all his blood changed” in order to kick a heroin addiction. Not so, says Snopes.com. As the urban legend investigators tell it, Richards once went to Switzerland for hemodialysis, a treatment that simply filters your blood in the same manner your own kidneys do—it doesn’t swap it out. Granted, he may appear vampiresque, but his pharmaceutically-fortified blood remains entirely his own.

In recent years, a vampire subculture has arisen that has essentially fetishized the drinking of both human and animal blood. In the latest case of eat and run, a man in Hong Kong was just arrested after fleeing a hospital where he had grabbed three blood tubes from a testing lab and downed the contents. More consensually, there are groups of night-loving enthusiasts whose vampire role-play often culminates in oral blood exchange. Somewhat smaller (with, perhaps, some crossover) are the numbers of these people with true psychiatric disorders that involve a penchant for plasma. An attempt has been made to classify such compulsive blood-drinkers as suffering from an invented disease called “Renfield’s Syndrome” (after Dracula’s loyal henchman), but such individuals already fall into more than enough existing categories.

Though it is true that Kenya’s Maasai population will drink cattle blood, this is usually a matter of survival during periodic times of severe drought. In their case, blood is simply a protein source and, often mixed with cow’s milk, allows both the traditionally nomadic people and their livestock to live another season. In western society, there is no such upside, and the significant dangers certainly outweigh whatever savory delights a night-stalker might enjoy.

Obtaining blood, even from a willing participant, must involve biting, puncturing or cutting—all of which leave the donor open to bacterial infection. In a similar vein, ingesting a literal Bloody Mary may expose the drinker to blood-borne pathogens ranging from hepatitis to HIV. Animal blood is no safer: Whether slaughterhouse-obtained or home-collected, contamination with infectious coliform bacteria is far too easy, and exposure to parasites and other circulating microbes are real threats. We know you’re immortal; no need to prove it.

So, my friend, I cannot give even an anemic recommendation for blood as a dietary supplement. However, if you still feel the need suck the life out of others to make you stronger, might I suggest a career in corporate law? The dress code is still basic black, you would finally be properly despised again and I’m certain you’d prefer the requisite Kobe steak to a sharpened one made of wood.

Dr. Ed Rabin is a chiropractor practicing at Life Chiropractic Center in Boise. Send coffin-pedic pillows and health-related questions to theantidote@edrabin.com (on the Web at www.edrabin.com).

A Little Slippery with the Facts: Moisturizers

2007-10-10T08:05:00.000-07:00

I know you usually review supplements and dicey holistic treatments, but I'm wondering if you would comment on this. I recently visited the dermatologist for my annual check-up following removal of a couple of pre-cancerous moles a few years ago. I was asking him to look at some roughened, itchy areas of skin on my legs that never quite clear up, despite twice-daily application of lotion. He advised me that I should always use a cream, never a lotion, because lotion contains water and actually dries the skin. Assuming this is true, why is this *not* common knowledge, and why do I have to pay a doctor to find this stuff out? —TP, Boise

I'd be more than happy to take a break from supplement-bashing to take a swing at moisturizers, if only because their ads are better. Even so, skin cream commercials are no less prone to misleading innuendo than, say, the fat-burner Stacker II—though they have significantly higher production values. The slow pan of a softly focused model, bare to her perfect skin, holding a tiny bottle of magic serum is much more appealing than watching a body builder, pushing the outer limits of spandex, with muscles so swollen he appears to have been stung by bees. But what do I know? I hardly ever watch Judge Judy, so I'm not really the target audience for either.

Although the moisturizer commercials imply that their products can repair the effects of aging or injury, these results are minimal at best. The real purpose of moisturizers, and nearly their only effect, is to increase water retention in the outer layers of skin and increase flexibility of the tissue. The outermost skin layer is called the stratum corneum, and consists of a couple of dozen sheets of essentially dead cells. Once young and vibrant in the deep skin layers, as they age—much like that softly focused model—they get pushed out, dried up, and eventually sloughed off. Toward the end of this death march, they fill with keratin, a hard fibrous protein that serves to block evaporation. Application of moisturizer assists the keratin by acting as an additional barrier to water loss.

The barrier in most formulas is oil, like cocoa butter or white petrolatum, or an oily animal product like lanolin. Lanolin is a waxy, fatty substance that is secreted by the pores of sheep and is meant to repel water from their wool. Without it, after a heavy rain, a sheep would look less like a grazing animal and more like a giant, immobile pasture sponge. As a blockade against water loss, lanolin is second only to petrolatum (aka Vaseline), but the sheep squeezins are a better skin softener, or emollient.

Other ingredients in creams and lotions—called humectants—absorb and hold water themselves (label examples include lactic acid and urea). Although humectants can actually be absorbed into cells, their plumping effect is only temporary. Most surprisingly, except for Vitamin A-related retinoids (which encourage more sloughing of the stratum corneum, leaving smoother skin layers visible), added vitamins, antioxidants, and botanicals have never been definitively proven to have actual healing effects and must be classified as a waste of money. I guess I can say goodbye to my L'Oreal endorsement deal.

Lotions and creams differ, generally, by the amount of water they contain. There are exceptions, but lotions are water solutions containing an emulsion of oils, and creams are just the opposite: tiny water droplets suspended in a primarily oil base. As your doctor noted, the creams with their higher oil content are better barriers, though they usually feel greasier. On the other hand, lotions are easier to apply, but don't protect as well. Nonetheless, for best results, use a cream and apply immediately following a short bath or shower. This helps trap moisture in the now-hydrated outer skin layers. Additionally, a bedroom humidifier can reduce nighttime shrivel and—along with your drinking plenty of fluids—help flesh-out your flesh.

One final heads-up: Television and print ads for moisturizers often use the very dramatic before-and-after photos. Amazingly, those little lines and wrinkles disappear completely moments after applying the formula. This sleight-of-hand is accomplished by simply withholding all products (except soap) for the few days before the photo shoot. Starved for moisture, the withered skin immediately sucks in the humectants and plumps up, ready for the close-up. If, at home, you expect to instantly become Victoria (or David) Beckham, be ready for disappointment. Though you might find some sympathy with me, I'd advise against claiming fraud; your naiveté will surely provoke a trademarked tongue-lashing from Judge Judy.

Dr. Ed Rabin is a chiropractor practicing at Life Chiropractic Center in Boise. Send Oil of Olay and health-related questions to theantidote@edrabin.com (on the Web at www.edrabin.com).

Kefir Madness: Kefir Beverage

2007-09-25T15:10:00.000-07:00

I drink a lot of kefir that I buy in plastic bottles at the Co-op. I've read on the Internet that it's cheap and easy to make at home out of whole milk, not to mention it would lessen the impact of packaging on our environment. But to make it the traditional way, you have to obtain some kind of fungal "granules" to start the culture, and then it's usually incubated at room temperature. Is it safe to ferment milk like this, or am I just setting myself up to die from some horrible food poisoning? —Leila W.

Of course, a smart ass like me only has to hear the word kefir to reflexively make a joke about Kiefer Sutherland. And, like his counter-terrorist TV character Jack Bauer, your willingness to sacrifice your life for your planet makes a good wisecrack even more compelling. Sadly, though, the topics of fermented milk and recycling don't easily lend themselves to associations with terrorist threats and global intrigue. Unless, that is, we're talking biological weapons—in which case you will definitely want to read on for the shocking truth about kefir!

The shocking truth is: kefir's not scary at all; actually it is quite the health food. I was merely attempting a FOX Network-style teaser like they use to hook you into the next episode of 24. Kefir is white, often bitter and sometimes smells of alcohol (the drink, I mean, not the actor) and is a little-known dairy product that originated as a result of milk preservation in the Caucasus Mountain region near the Black Sea. About a day after adding a starter culture, milk transforms into a gloppy, sour liquid, somewhat thinner than yogurt.

Unlike its cousin yogurt—which is made from only bacterial cultures—a kefir starter contains both bacteria and yeast (no fungus). The yeast not only helps protect the milk from unwanted microorganisms, but by continuing incubation longer than the typical 24 hours, it can also produce a bit of alcohol and carbonation. It's not exactly a fizzy White Russian, but the acquired taste falls somewhere between buttermilk and sour cream.

Perhaps the most fascinating thing about kefir is the culture itself. Although you can begin a batch with a dry starter, true traditional kefir requires the granules you mention. Looking like a mass of tiny cauliflower florets made of even tinier grains of rice, these kefir granules are the slightly gooey townhouses of the active microbes. Technically called a SCOBY (Symbiotic Colony Of Bacteria and Yeast), no one has yet been able to create these "grains" spontaneously from a dry starter culture—excess portions are simply given from person to person after they multiply in milk. This curious obstacle has given rise to a legend that the original grains were given to man by the prophet Mohammad and, therefore, kefir is heaven-sent to help us live healthier (and more neighborly) lives.

Which may be truer than it sounds: Cultured food products, like yogurt, miso and kimchi contain beneficial bacteria or other compounds that aid the human digestive process. These foods are often referred to as probiotic, as the friendly microorganisms discourage the growth of any antisocial bacteria in our intestines. Traditionally-made kefir contains a huge range of beneficial microbes (more than 30 species, about three times that of yogurt), many of which breakdown lactose, giving the beverage a particularly good reputation among those who cannot tolerate the milk sugar. A 2003 Journal of the American Dietetic Association study showed that among a randomized group of lactose intolerant volunteers, those who drank kefir products noted at least 50 percent less flatulence (bad news only at frat houses). The beverage has also been shown to significantly help irritable bowel syndrome (IBS) and kefir shows promise, too, in lowering cholesterol.

Leila, you aren't risking your health by culturing it at home; there are very few reported food-borne illnesses associated with kefir. Because of the huge head start given by the culture granules, the good microbes are nearly always victorious against our enemies. Certainly, though, you should always use clean, boiling-water-sterilized jars and fresh, pasteurized milk. But (in one more example of my obsessive caution), pregnant women, the immune-compromised or the weakened elderly should either check with their doctors before drinking the home brew, or simply stick to commercially available kefir.

That would, however, leave some plastic bottles to dispose of. I strongly suggest to them that they recycle, or else there may be trouble. I've seen what Jack Bauer does to those who threaten the country and they definitely don't want a house call.

Dr. Ed Rabin is a chiropractor practicing at Life Chiropractic Center in Boise. Send Jack Bauer action figures and health-related questions to theantidote@edrabin.com (on the Web at www.edrabin.com).

One-A-Day, Plus Irony: Multivitamins and Antioxidants

2007-09-12T08:59:00.000-07:00

I'm writing to tell you how refreshing it is to hear straight talk about dietary supplements. The hemp-clouded birdbrain working the vitamin counter constantly confuses me. Worse than him are the other customers (they are always just skin and bones, too) trying to convince me to buy stuff I don't need. Why are natural food enthusiasts so deranged? From lack of protein, no doubt, but I'd like to hear your opinion.
—Daryl J.P., Mountain Home
[edited significantly for rant-removal]

Thanks for the compliment, but I have to wonder why you're in the natural foods store in the first place. You are definitely not the typical customer and I expect that your visit is not all that pleasant for the "birdbrain" either. Perhaps you're there (and I'm just guessing here) for some calming herbs, like valerian or kava-kava. Regardless, and for your own safety, I'd suggest toning it down a notch at the vitamin counter as the taste of natural laxatives can be easily hidden in a free sample of fresh carrot juice.

As far as contradictory information given out by store clerks and customers, they truly cannot be blamed. The dietary supplement industry is booming as more than half of the adults in the United States are swallowing some sort of daily nutritional enhancement. With a growth curve like that, manufacturers and promoters have significant incentive to provide the most carefully worded—but completely misleading—information to retailers and consumers. And as you know from reading this column, the moment one myth is busted, two more appear to take its place. Beyond my expertise, however, is what makes your fellow customers deranged and skeletal (though I do have an idea about the hemp).

The motivation to take vitamins, on the whole, is to stay healthy and to avoid age-related illness. To that end, the most widely consumed supplements are antioxidants (specific substances thought to protect cells from free radical damage) and multivitamins (containing any number of combinations of vitamins and minerals). Some take it further, attempting to turn around the normal aging process. These latter, idealistic types should be aware that—among antioxidants, vitamins and hormones—no single compound has ever been shown to reverse aging. The moment one is found, and for the good of the entire country, I will immediately send a bottle to Danny Bonaduce.

Outside the nutrition store, there is evidence building against even the most routine supplementation. For example, nearly all large studies of antioxidants—including, but not limited to the poster boy, beta-carotene—have determined that regular use does not prevent (or even affect your risk of) cancer or cardiovascular disease. In fact, for smokers, additional beta-carotene is shown to actually increase rates of lung cancer. One theory why antioxidants haven't met their promise may be drawn from a study in which high doses of vitamin C (another antioxidant) in mice appear to essentially shut down the manufacture of the body's natural free radical defenses.

Bad news, too, for Flintstones Chewables: Investigations of multivitamins have similarly unimpressive findings. A 2006 meta-analysis (a study of multiple, previous studies) published in the Annals of Internal Medicine concluded that there is insufficient evidence to state that a daily multivitamin/mineral provides any protection, whatsoever, against cancer or heart disease (as she is fictional, Wilma Flintstone could not be reached for comment). The authors here are specifically talking about routine supplementation; they are clearly not referring to individual nutritional needs like folic acid to prevent birth defects in pregnancy, or calcium and vitamin D to maintain bone density and prevent fractures in postmenopausal women.

In what should be the near-final word on the subject, a second Physician's Health Study (the first discovered, among many other things, that aspirin decreases risk of first heart attack) will be completed by the end of this year. This massive, 10-year undertaking has been following 14,000 male physicians to test the effect of antioxidants and multivitamins on the rates of cancer, cardiovascular disease, cognitive decline and age-related eye disorders (cataracts and macular degeneration).

Although artificial supplements may turn out to be of little use, there is still abundant evidence that a diet heavy in fruits and vegetables decreases the risk of cancer and heart disease. The obvious conclusion is that something in unprocessed food, other than simple vitamins, is of primary importance to our health. This discussion, added to my prior work, gives you and me something in common: Neither of us is making many friends at the nutrition counter. And, seeing as my picture is published along with the column, I'll be avoiding the carrot juice, too.

Dr. Ed Rabin is a chiropractor practicing at Life Chiropractic Center in Boise. Send free (or low-priced) radicals and health-related questions to theantidote@edrabin.com (on the Web at www.edrabin.com).