Ma’am, step away from the fly spray... I learned one of life’s lessons twenty years ago through heartbreak and a tear-stained face. Bernie found me when I was a confused twenty year-old and she was a homeless basenji-boxer mix puppy. As my constant companion and friend, I knew her better than anyone or anything. Eight years later, when I took her to the vet, stating something is wrong, they said: Bernie is fine. When I took her back to the vet and said I know something is wrong, they took a biopsy and said: Bernie is fine. I tried twice more. When I finally took Bernie to CSU, they said: Stage 5, if only we had met her sooner. As endurance riders, we are a pretty stoic bunch. After all, we think it is fun to tear through the woods on over-excited horses, in the pouring 40-degree rain and the blazing heat, with branches slapping our faces and an unknown around every corner. We are not given to snivel if our knees hurt or even if our hand is broken (Ann), we suck it up. We do know our horses, our dogs, our children and our mates like no one else ever will. We know when they are off, when they are on fire and we listen to our guts when we know something is wrong. But do we treat our own bodies with the same kindness and generosity? I realize I am as guilty as anyone of hiding the hurts, fears and worries, but something happened last year that I would hope never happens to other women. I am not one to stand up in front of a crowd, but I have told this story to a few of my endurance family and they have encouraged me to share my little story. Last year, as a newlywed in my mid-forties and in great health, my life began to spiral down for one week a month. A very serious “black-hole”. My world was dark, unkind, and scary. And a week later, I was better. And no one really knew. I looked up what I could be and found something called PMDD- a hormonal pms-y disorder where women right there on-line, said what I was feeling: my life is hell for one week a month. I sat in my office with my hands shaking. I was anxious and all of my worst nightmares seemed reality. And then after a week the sun came out and I was better. So I called the female doctor and they prescribed antidepressants – over the phone. I said “don’t you want to see me?” No, this is what is generally prescribed. I demanded hormone tests. After a simple test: “You are fine,” they said. Two more months went by; suffering through the one week to live the other three, the paranoia is beginning to bleed into the rest of my life. I am sitting in dark closets with the door shut and looking around corners. I demanded tests thinking, it must be some sort of pre-menopausal thing I can correct with some hormone replacement thing. “You are normal, you are fine,” they said. I was not fine. I was suffering. There are all kinds of possible links to diet and life choices to this PMDD thing. Hmmmm…..pesiticides….women’s hormones….pesticides…… Reverse a few months back. My friend Lindette needed a dose of horse and went with me for a visit. She loved my good boys but didn’t like the way I was touching the fly spray. Did I mention, I live in south Louisiana? Besides what the wet swampy-ness does to their feet and the challenge of keeping a sound barefoot hoof, do you know what our mosquitoes are like? Huge, horrible beasts. Last year, they were relentless. There was no freeze and the swarms mosquitoes didn’t give the horses a break for the entire year. I was going out and spraying them from head to tail, from nose to foot, every other day, rubbing it in with my hands and breathing it in. I sprayed it in the palm of my hands to rub on their faces. I hum and rub and tickle their noses and scratch their butts. I feed them carrots, I rub, squirt, squirt, squirt, rub, rub, rub. Humming my little horse song, this is the best part of the day after all, and I feel the world is right when I touch my sweet creatures. I know that there is a warning on the label- don’t touch this, don’t breathe in, so as I rubbed, I always wondered about them- this must not be good for my boys. I didn’t really think about myself. So I am suffering and thinking and wondering, and I remember Lindette’s worry. Could….that… would that make me…..crazy? Because crazy is what I was beginning to feel, so, I stopped cold turkey about 6 months ago. And guess what? The symptoms went away just like that. There was no parade. No doctors called to see how I was. My horses are strong, my husband is wonderful, and I am blessed. I haven’t dug into the research of pyrethrin very aggressively (pyrethrin is an insecticide derived from Chrysanthemum and is found in insecticide). I know it is considered toxic to our fish and has been shown to cause abnormalities in amphibians. The first link I found to possible effects on women’s health was in an article by a herpetologist. It makes sense; she loves the little frogs and salamanders whose thin skin can’t protect their insides from insecticides in water systems. She and others that are concerned with effects of pesticides on the earth’s critters often cite the Journal of Pesticide Reform, which is not an accredited journal. They say the Journal warns that pyrethrin caused thyroid tumors in laboratory in vitro tests, farmers who use may have increased risk of leukemia and there may be long term reproductive health effects because “pyrethrin disrupts the endocrine system by mimicking the female hormone, estrogen, thus causing excessive estrogen levels in females. In males, its estrogenizing effects include lowered sperm counts. In both, it can lead to the abnormal growth of breast tissue, leading to development of breasts in males and cancerous breast tissue in both male and females.” In addition, neurotoxic effects may include: tremors, incoordination, elevated body temperature, increased aggressive behavior, and disruption of learning These citations support my personal experience but are not supported by anything official. The USDA for example, who says that there is no clear evidence of a link, and the National Pesticide Information Center reports that “Pyrethrins are highly toxic to fish and tadpoles. They affect their skin touch receptors and balance organ. Pyrethrins are toxic to beneficial insect (such as honeybees) and many aquatic invertebrates. Pyrethrins are low in toxicity to humans, other mammals, and birds.
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I am a featherweight. Maybe this matters. I don’t know. I do know the label says to scrub your hands for 20 minutes if you touch it, don’t breath it in, don’t let it get in your eyes. Luckily, the bugs haven’t been as bad this year, but I know they are coming, so now I need to figure out a better bug-off option for the horses. We look out for our animals and they look out for us. If you know something is wrong, it probably is. Be good to yourself. And by the way, Bernie was no dog, she was an angel. 15