Trial: Three Facial Oils

I've always had a pretty good complexion. However, at my present age, I've noticed some dryness and peeling on the sides of my nose, around my lips and between my brows. I asked my dermatologist friend about it, and she said it was pretty common for one's skin quality to change as it matures. At one point the peeling became so bad I was prescribed applications of an anti-inflammatory corticosteroid cream on the problem areas. There were days my skin would remain moist and not peel, and there were days when the facial peeling looked downright embarrassing.

Like most women I've tried the mainstream moisturizers on the market: Brand O, Brand N, Brand P, Brand L. While they all worked reasonably well for me, I thought this time I'd try something more natural, and if possible, organic. For the past three weeks I've been trying a different natural facial oil for a week each: Argan Oil, Ilog Maria Royal Jelly Facial Oil, and cold-pressed, culinary grade Virgin Coconut Oil. It sounds counter-intuitive to put oil on one's face, but for me (and this is a subjective review) it works.

The most exotic of the three, Argan Oil, I found at a stall at Mercato Centrale. It cost PhP 1,500 for a 30ml dispenser bottle. A fair trade product that supports the women of the Berber tribes, this edible oil is imported from Morocco and repacked by local distributor The Souq International. While some people would balk at the price, consider that one application is only about 1-3 drops. On the site it is advertised as a hair-skin-nails moisturizer - "treatment for acne, pimples, scars/keloids, dark spots, large pores, psoriasis, eczema, wrinkles, split ends, weak nails, aging skin, lack-luster skin, etc." Since I had facial dryness and contact dermatitis on one finger and had the extra cash, I thought, why not? Some beauty/anti-aging products that I've tried (that actually worked) cost as much, if not a lot more.

I used the Argan Oil as a night moisturizer after washing my face, applied with the fingers and not with a cotton ball (at that price, would you lose the oil to the cotton ball?). It spreads easily, and has an initial natural scent of "sour forest floor", which disappears once the oil is absorbed on the skin. If you're not used to putting oil directly on your face, go with 1-2 dispenser drops (or the size of a 25-centavo coin). When I woke up the next day I was pleased to find no oil or scent on my pillows, my pores looked smaller and my problem areas looked moist but not oily/shiny. It helped my dermatitis-affected finger, too. Verdict: I loved it. On the last day of my week's trial I was lazy and forgot to moisturize. I woke up with the usual dry reddish areas on my face and peeling around the sides of my mouth.

The second week I used Ilog Maria's Royal Jelly Facial Oil. I had bought this on my last visit to Ilog Maria, Joel Magsaysay's bee farm, in Silang, Cavite. I couldn't remember how much I bought it for, but on the website it's currently PhP 121 for a 50ml bottle. I read on someone's blog that it retails for PhP 150 a bottle at a stall in Marikina Riverbanks. On the bottle it reads: "Handmade in our bee farm using rejuvenating royal jelly and a melange of tropical flower, fruit, nut and seed oils. Can be used as a night cream. Restores aging, dry and sensitive skin. Ingredients tend to separate; No emulsifiers, preservatives or thickeners used. Shake well before using."

The tropical flower must be ylang-ylang. I remember the scent was stronger when it was newly bought. A friend of mine declined using it because the added scent was too strong for her. Since I hadn't had a chance to use it since buying it I smelled it again and the ylang-ylang scent had mellowed. The oil must be a combination of edible oils I can only guess at (sweet almond and grapeseed? I really don't know). The oil didn't separate in the over-six-months it hadn't been used, so I figured it was ok. I used a similar amount as the Argan Oil. I find the texture of this oil to be a tad heavier or thicker, but it wasn't hard to spread it evenly on my skin. It smelled good. When I woke up in the morning the reddish areas on my face from the previous day's laziness disappeared. My skin was supple and the pores were small all week. Verdict: I loved it too.

On the third week I tried Cocowonder's cold-pressed, culinary grade Virgin Coconut Oil. It cost PhP 375/liter. Given the different kinds of VCO available, my sister and I decided on cold-pressed because extraction using heat would destroy the health benefits claimed. We chose culinary grade because it is also cosmetic grade. Our goal was to find a viable and cost-effective alternative to the Argan Oil. I transferred some C-VCO to a small cosmetic dispenser bottle I had repurposed.

I used the same amount of C-VCO as I used with the previous two facial oils. I also used about a tablespoon to massage into my hair an hour before shampooing, to see if it would help a dry scalp. C-VCO smells like nutty baked goods. I mention this because not many people like the heavy smell of bukayo, a cooked coconut candy. Many assume that VCO would smell like that, but it doesn't. The scent disappears once the oil has been absorbed by the skin. Like the argan oil, it left no residual smell on my pillows. In the mornings my skin had a lovely texture, and my hair was soft and my scalp had no flakes. I've done the hair conditioning several times since then. Verdict: I loved it as well.

My skin has never looked so good. I can't afford to be lazy, though, and forget to moisturize nightly. Not once have I broken out with a pimple. Not once.

Now while I love all three, Argan Oil is simply too expensive, in comparison to the other two oils. It is also the best for my finger that suffers from dermatitis (stays on, keeps moist longer). If I have a chance to go to Ilog Maria in Cavite, or even to Marikina Riverbanks, I'd buy the Royal Jelly Facial Oil again. But for everyday hair, skin, nails and internal needs, I think I can stick with VCO. While I've done my part helping the Berber women of Morocco, I think it's good (not to mention patriotic) to put the rest of my money in a Philippine product. (And oh, the lovely savings!)



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This blog is not affiliated with any of the enterprises mentioned. All products were purchased at full retail price.

Held at Needlepoint

Pardon the long online silence. I'd meant to write about the Boracay wedding I attended, about meeting with my local fountain pen group for the first time, about my cable knitted socks, about last weekend's trip to Baguio.

It was at Jun and Jangky's December 19 wedding that we discovered that I have a cyst growing on the left lobe of my thyroid. I spent a week not thinking about it (read: traffic, bank holiday, other reasons to procrastinate). Come January I went to my family doctor. He sent me off for blood tests and an ultrasound. I spent some time hunting for an endocrinologist. When I found her, she recommended that I undergo an FNAB (fine needle aspiration biopsy). For someone who has never been hospitalized ever, the word "biopsy" is a bit freaky. (It took a trip to Baguio for me to build up the right attitude and motivation for it. I found myself walking around Burnham Park in a haze of disbelief, leavened by spending time playing with my little niece on the grass.)

The two doctors (family and endocrinologist) both explained in general what would be done. Imagine the cyst is a rubber jackstone ball with fluid in it. The needle will enter the cyst and draw out as much liquid as possible. Sometimes the solids stick together without leaving a gap. Sometimes the liquid accumulation recurs. The liquid is then sent to the lab for tests, including one for the presence or absence of cancer cells. It's just like a blood test, you'll be fine, they said.

Of course I know I'd be fine. There was just that part of me that really could not process the visual of having a needle stuck in my neck. This is despite the fact that I am not a squeamish person and can look at an open wound without fainting. The way I felt about it is hard to describe, but if you've ever been so anxious and stressed about something that you end up uttering gibberish and giggling uncontrollably, that would be close.

Anyway, it's done. Thank goodness. The pathologist stuck me in the neck twice, in an attempt to remove all the liquid. The first time wasn't painful. The second one was a bit painful, because of the attempt to aspirate until no liquid remained. (Well, it doesn't beat having a tooth cavity drilled.) It was mercifully quick. She ended up with 15.5cc of liquid! That is being tested, and I go get the results on Friday. All I have to show for it are two puncture wounds and a bruise worthy of Twilight the movie. On Saturday I let the endocrinologist figure out how to manage the rest of the cyst.

Some of you know me as fearless and practical, keeping my head in emergencies, coming up with reserves of strength when needed. I used to think I was invincible, and that is an attitude of carefree youth. I'm still young, but then again I'm not that young. Or maybe I should say, in my mind I am younger than this body I inhabit. Perhaps that is more accurate. This body feels tired.

I feel relieved that the biopsy is done. I ate enough fried chicken and cream of potato and basil soup fpr lunch to compensate for my early morning stress. (There was no vanilla ice cream, alas.) Thanks to everyone here and in Facebook who put me in their prayer lists and sent me funny thoughts. I had the strangest thoughts going through my head while there was a needle stuck in my neck for the longest ten seconds ever.

All throughout I could not blog. I could only send emails, chat and write in my journal. I put my mind to writing to my snail mail group. During the time I could not blog I got four postcards in the mail from around the world. Lovely surprises in these electronic times! They cheered me up immensely. I've posted three postcards and three letters. There's something so satisfying about using my fountainpens and different colored inks on lovely paper, writing to people who appreciate the same things.

TDM even took me out for breakfast yesterday to cheer me up. (Pancake House's bacon waffles are great for cheering me up. Now if they had Nutella waffles, maybe you could bribe me to have myself stuck with a needle FOUR times!) Thank you, sweetheart.

Hopefully tonight I dream of myself playing with my niece on the Burnham Park grass. It wipes away my cares.

Running: The 2006 Yakult 5k

I started my running career with my former trainer, Lawrence Gange, in December 2006. From June to December that year, on Lawrence's personalized core strength and cardio program, I lost 10lbs and lost a couple of inches off my waist. Then he said, "I'm entering you in the Yakult 5k in December. All you have to do is finish the run."

My sister Joy, who was working on losing postpartum weight, agreed to be my running buddy. We ran from Star City down Roxas Blvd. all the way to... Pedro Gil? Or was it Padre Faura? Then back to Star City. It was the first time I was able to run continuously without stopping, at my own pace. Joy and I had made a pact - no leaving the other one behind. It was fun, a well-organized run. I finished the race in 52 minutes, receiving a certificate and a Yakult finisher jersey big enough to be a dress if I'd belted it. I was exhilarated. And hungry as hell.

Not too bad for a first-timer, I thought. To think, I was even running while on antibiotics (a wasp bite had gotten infected). I was amazed to feel a second wind kick in, halfway through the race. I was thinking, "So this is what it feels like." For a moment it was as if the rest of the world had melted away; I felt I could keep on running and running. Alas, during the last 2 kilometers the arch of my left foot started aching and went numb. Since I have flat feet, I run in Nikes with a padded insole. At the time I really couldn't feel anything in my left foot except pressure, so I just continued to run, filing the experience in my head as something to work on. There were water stations along the route, so I wasn't too dehydrated.

At the last 500m I could hear Lawrence shouting from the sidewalk, "Go girls!!!" Apart from Joy and myself, he had another client registered in the Yakult 5k. Lawrence had hurt his ankle in a kitchen accident two weeks before. I remember that day, seeing him on the sidewalk propped up on crutches, waving his stopwatch with an infectious grin on his face. I waved and grinned back, and kept running.

We celebrated with breakfast at The Aristocrat. Our entire family showed up for moral support. We have a picture with Lawrence, but I can't find it yet. Will post it when I do. Lawrence immigrated to Canada with his nurse wife a few months later. And I have continued to run ever since.

Weak At The Knees

The other day I received text messages informing me that a close girl friend of mine had suffered a stroke, was mildly paralyzed and was rushed to the hospital. I wasn't able to go to the hospital that night to see her, but a common friend of ours who did texted me: "She has Guillain-Barre Syndrome."

Of course I looked it up online. This site explains it well, but since it's a distant healing rather than a medical/scientific site, I looked at Wikipedia. Then I dug up a really useful site, the Guillain-Barre Syndrome Support Group, based in the UK. The best thing about this last site is that it contains testimonies of those who have experienced and recovered from GBS. Reading those accounts heartened me. I couldn't bear imagining this friend of mine permanently immobile and depressed.

I visited my friend - let's call her Rachel - yesterday afternoon after lunch. but most of the time I was there her mom and the nurse were busy bathing her so I had to wait outside.

When I first arrived I was able to say hi and ask how she was. "Hi, I have GBS."

This was what I noticed:

1. She was lucid, sitting up straight. She talked slowly and carefully, her voice a bit slurred. She said she couldn't smile because she had to support her chin with one hand while talking, because of the mild paralysis in the muscles of her lower jaw. She was connected to a dextrose drip.

2. Her fingers were nimble enough to receive and make short text replies to me on her cell phone.

I was relieved because I had expected worse circumstances.

On her way back from the restroom her mom asked me to get a male nurse to assist them back to the hospital room because she had to hold the drip. Rachel was able to walk slowly, but I realized her legs couldn't voluntarily support the weight of her body. Her mom and I propped her up on the bed, because the bed base was high. Then she asked to wear socks because her feet felt cold (she couldn't bend down to put them on). She told me she could feel the cold, but if her foot were dipped in water, she couldn't feel the sensation of wetness. She asked me to hold her hand, and it was cold and dry. Apparently she could not generate/regulate her body temperature (something to do with the nerves, I don't know how to explain it), but she could feel the warmth of my hands.

I asked if she was able to eat solids. She said she eats by supporting her lower jaw with one hand. "So there's nothing wrong with your tongue?" I asked. None, she said. She had solid food for lunch, despite the drip. The drip was there because earlier she had no appetite. Her blood pressure was up and down, and when she sat up from a prone position she felt dizzy. After she threw up she said she felt the pressure in her esophagus released, so then she actually felt hungry. She drinks water from a glass (doesn't need a straw), but can't stretch out her arm to get it from the table. She says she doesn't like to lie down for long periods without changing position, because the muscles in her back ache. When she lies down she puts a folded blanket between her knees for warmth and circulation. With some effort she can move each leg forward and backward, as long as she's lying down. She likes to be bundled up in a coverlet because her extremities constantly feel cold.

Apparently, this is what happened:

1. Last Wednesday, she woke up feeling numbness in her toes. She still went ahead with her duties. Through the weekend, she felt a tingling sensation climbing up her legs. By Monday, she was still able to drive to work. However, when she got there, her blood pressure shot to 160/100, and she passed out. One of her colleagues took her to the Infirmary, where she was given medicine to lower her blood pressure. But when the doctors noted her mild paralysis, they concluded she must have had a stroke. So her parents rushed her to the hospital for tests.

2. After the battery of tests and the CT scan Rachel was scheduled for an MRI. Early this morning the results of the CT scan came in and they discovered that her brain was undamaged - ergo she NEVER had a stroke at all. And best of all, there was NO brain damage. So when the neurologist interviewed her and she told him of the sequence of events leading to the hospitalization, he diagnosed her as having Guillain-Barre Syndrome (GBS).

Rachel was aware of GBS, because she had had one male student who suffered from it last year. One day while standing at the bus stop, he just collapsed, his legs buckling beneath him. He missed two months of classes, and when he came back, he was just barely able to walk. He reported to the class his experiences with GBS, so when the neurologist made his diagnosis, Rachel was able to grasp what was happening to her.

But Rachel's mom still doesn't understand what GBS is, or whether people are able to recover. I told her about the GBS Support Group, and the accounts I'd read. Rachel said, "If I'd really had a stroke, my brain would be permanently damaged. At least the doctor said, with GBS, there's a beginning and an end." According to the GBS site, the condition clears up of its own accord, only you can't predict when. My guess is, with the immunoglobulin treatment and the physiotherapy, Rachel actually has a chance of recovering most of her motor functions any time within six months. Rachel probably wouldn't be able to go on mountain hikes but at least she'd be able to walk short distances unaided, or even be able to drive again with a companion. The possibility that the quality of her life can still improve is what counts.

The duration of the hospital stay, the cost of physiotherapy, and most of all, the cost of the immunoglobulin medicine worries her mom. Rachel asked me if I could ask all our friends to help raise funds for the medicine. I was shocked when her mom mentioned the cost of treatment. It's estimated that a GBS patient needs 5 vials of immunoglobulin a day for 7 days. However, the premier brand of immunoglobulin costs something like PhP 13,000 PER VIAL. If you calculate it, that's the amount you spend on a CAR. So Rachel's mom told me that she asked around for a cheaper alternative that was just as effective. She found one being supplied by a company somewhere in Manila, that was priced at PhP 5,100 per vial. The 35 vials Rachel needs for the treatment will then cost just under PhP 200,000 (less than half the other total, but still a hefty expense). So I said if they could get me the name of the cheaper alternative I could try to source it in the US and ask some relatives to bring them early next year when they come for our family reunion. Or we could ask our high school batchmates in the US to sponsor vials for the treatment. Or we could write to charity organizations abroad for help. Anyhow, I said I'd ask our other friend Francine to help me write some letters. We'll try to set up a bank account for donations as soon as possible.

If, after reading this, you'd like to help in any way, please send us an email or leave a comment below. We'd really appreciate it.