This week saw considerable optimism and promise for neuroscience research. The announcement regarding a late-stage Alzheimer’s drug infused excitement into a field that has had disappointments and clinical failures over the years. Scientists and industry experts at the Precision Neuroscience Summit predicted a renaissance in research and development, and that by 2030 there will be system-level innovations to further accelerate breakthroughs ranging from early neurodiagnostics, interventions and artificial intelligence (AI) enabled clinical trials using novel endpoints. ‘We are incredibly fortunate to be living in the first time in history where emerging biology and diagnostic technologies are coming together to allow us to attack the really big unmet needs in mood disorders, genetic neurologic disease and neurodegeneration,’ according to Tim Opler, an economist and partner at boutique investment banking firm Torreya. Read More

Welcome to Refinery29’s Fertility Diaries, where people chronicle their joyous, painful, and sometimes complicated paths to parenthood. Today, we hear from Jackie Quinn-Piper, a 40-year-old woman in Southern California who is struggling with secondary fertility and who has experienced four miscarriages.  Have your own fertility diary to share? Contact us here or fill out this form.  “I didn’t know I wanted to have kids until I thought I couldn’t. In my 20s, I was pursuing higher education and a career, and just really enjoying my life with my husband. But a few years into the marriage, we decided to “try” — I went off birth control but wasn’t too worried about it. But after four years without success, we began wondering if something was wrong. At 35, I went to a fertility doctor. He suggested in vitro fertilization (IVF).  “We went for it but there were financial, physical, and emotional costs I wasn’t prepared for. We had to pay about $20,000 for the first cycle. Worse, we later learned we only had one ‘B quality’ embryo viable to “transfer.” We were hoping for at least one ‘A,’ which would have a higher chance of resulting in a healthy pregnancy that would be carried to term. We went for it, and two weeks later I found out I was pregnant. We were overjoyed. The nurses and doctors told us to wait before we got too excited because sometimes pregnancies don’t hold. It was week seven when we heard the heartbeat. Feeling relief, we left the clinic and began planning. But the next week, I started experiencing pain. I went in and they said the heartbeat had stopped. It was a miscarriage.   “We decided to take a break from treatments after that, and eventually we began trying to time sex to my cycle again. At the end of June 2018, I had a positive test. The pregnancy was terrifying, I kept worrying something would go wrong and this was going to be taken away from me. But, after a difficult nine months and birth, I had my son and he was healthy. We were ecstatic.  “About a year later in 2020, I found out I was pregnant again. We were so happy, but history repeated itself. Around the same week of pregnancy, we had the same issue we’d had after implanting our IVF embryo; they couldn’t find the heartbeat again. It was the most terrible déjà vu I’ve ever had. They told me I could wait for things to “take their course,” but it would be days and days of bleeding and I didn’t want that. I wanted to mourn and move on. I had a [dilation and curettage] (D&C) to remove the fetus. On the day of the operation, they had me fill out a form for insurance purposes. The form listed [the procedure] as an “elective abortion.” “I didn’t realize something like this was classified as an abortion. My husband was angry about it being called that because we didn’t have any control over what happened. I always was and am still pro-choice so it surprised me to feel so much emotion about it being called an abortion, knowing this wasn’t something I was choosing.  “Chrissy Teigen recently spoke out about being in a similar situation. She had no choice but to have a technical abortion for her health, though she thought of it as a miscarriage at the time. “Let’s just call it what it was: It was an abortion,” she said recently. “An abortion to save my life for a baby that had absolutely no chance.” I was so appreciative of what she shared. Abortion is such a complicated issue, and there are so many people who have them for so many reasons. It’s not talked about enough. In fact, I spoke to my mom about the subject, and she was like, “Oh yeah, I had four miscarriages before you.” I didn’t know that before. Now, with the recent Supreme Court decision overturning Roe v. Wade, if what had happened to me then happened now and if I lived in another state, I would have been even more terrified. It would be another level of anxiety on top of everything. With my history, I would also be scared to try to conceive again. “After the second miscarriage, we grieved, and then we decided to start trying again months later. I desperately wanted to give my son a sibling, but I also felt riddled with guilt about that. I told myself, I have my son, and that should be enough. We have such an amazing kid right here in front of us.  “I got pregnant again. But when I went in for an ultrasound, they couldn’t find anything in my uterus. The doctor said my [human chorionic gonadotropin] (hCG) and progesterone levels were still increasing, which was strange. It seemed like there was still hope, so they kept having me come in for testing for a few weeks, but they never found a heartbeat. A nurse told me it could be an ectopic pregnancy, in which the fertilized egg implants outside of the uterus. It was a total mindfuck. But soon, my levels started dropping again and they told me it was another miscarriage.  “Eventually, we decided to give IVF another shot. This wasn’t our first rodeo, so we were prepared for it — and then we weren’t. We genetically tested the two eggs from the retrieval that made it. One had too many chromosomes, one had too few, our doctor told us. We knew we couldn’t do IVF again as we’d spent about $40,000 in total and were in debt. Five months later I got pregnant again but then miscarried another time. “Through therapy, I have attempted to process my sense of loss and despair. I had to accept what I couldn’t change, and know you only have so much control. My husband and I have had lots of conversations about our desire for another child, and he’s been so supportive. Right now, we’re not actively pursuing getting pregnant again, but it’s still in the back of my mind. I honestly have some hope. If it were to happen, that would be amazing but we’re just letting it be and are trying to be okay with where we are now. In some ways, that’s relieving. It’s like stepping out of a fog. Now we’re just going to live.” As told to Molly Longman. This interview has been condensed for length and clarity.  Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here? I’m A Queer Woman Doing Fertility Treatments Solo. How Abortion Decisions Could Impact IVF. You Can Be Pro-Choice & Grieve A Miscarriage. Read More

Katie Couric, a former co-anchor of NBC’s “TODAY” show, opened up about her recent breast cancer diagnosis Monday, saying she was "lucky" it was detected early Read More

In April 2022, Clea Shearer ― co-founder of the popular organization company The Home Edit ― announced that she had breast cancer. The diagnosis came after she discovered a lump in her breast and called multiple doctors to go in for a mammogram as soon as possible. Estimates suggest that one in eight women in the United States will develop breast cancer at some point in their life. Shearer had just turned 40when she discovered the mass in her breast. Stories like Shearer’s highlight the value of familiarizing yourself with what is normal and abnormal for your breasts. Read More

But if you use this brief wake-up window to turn on the bathroom light, start thinking about your to-do list, or check the time on your  phone, it really won't be conducive to falling back asleep. "[When] we flip on the bathroom light we get all this light exposure into our eyes, suppressing our melatonin," she explains. Taking a look at our tech will have the same effect. So instead of doing any of those things, Vora suggests, you'll just want to shuffle to the bathroom (sans lights if you can!), take a sip of water, and lie back down with your eyes closed. "Trust that you're going to fall back asleep—it might take five or 10 or 20 or 30 minutes, but reassure yourself that this is a normal wake-up and you're going to fall back asleep," she says. Then, prepare to drift back into dreamland once again. Read More

3. Ask yourself questions in the moment. Think about whether alcohol will add value to your experience — what difference will drinking make to your time at a party or your night at the bar? You can tally how many cocktails you consume in a given night and pay attention to why you were drawn to booze. Read More

Recently, after a week in which 2,789 Americans died of COVID-19, President Joe Biden proclaimed that “the pandemic is over.” Anthony Fauci described the controversy around the proclamation as a matter of “semantics,” but the facts we are living with can speak for themselves. COVID still kills roughly as many Americans every week as died on 9/11. It is on track to kill at least 100,000 a year—triple the typical toll of the flu. Despite gross undercounting, more than 50,000 infections are being recorded every day. The CDC estimates that 19 million adults have long COVID. Things have undoubtedly improved since the peak of the crisis, but calling the pandemic “over” is like calling a fight “finished” because your opponent is punching you in the ribs instead of the face.   American leaders and pundits have been trying to call an end to the pandemic since its beginning, only to be faced with new surges or variants. This mindset not only compromises the nation’s ability to manage COVID, but also leaves it vulnerable to other outbreaks. Future pandemics aren’t hypothetical; they’re inevitable and imminent. New infectious diseases have regularly emerged throughout recent decades, and climate change is quickening the pace of such events. As rising temperatures force animals to relocate, species that have never coexisted will meet, allowing the viruses within them to find new hosts—humans included. Dealing with all of this again is a matter of when, not if. In 2018, I wrote an article in The Atlantic warning that the U.S. was not prepared for a pandemic. That diagnosis remains unchanged; if anything, I was too optimistic. America was ranked as the world’s most prepared country in 2019—and, bafflingly, again in 2021—but accounts for 16 percent of global COVID deaths despite having just 4 percent of the global population. It spends more on medical care than any other wealthy country, but its hospitals were nonetheless overwhelmed. It helped create vaccines in record time, but is 67th in the world in full vaccinations. (This trend cannot solely be attributed to political division; even the most heavily vaccinated blue state—Rhode Island—still lags behind 21 nations.) America experienced the largest life-expectancy decline of any wealthy country in 2020 and, unlike its peers, continued declining in 2021. If it had fared as well as just the average peer nation, 1.1 million people who died last year—a third of all American deaths—would still be alive. America’s superlatively poor performance cannot solely be blamed on either the Trump or Biden administrations, although both have made egregious errors. Rather, the new coronavirus exploited the country’s many failing systems: its overstuffed prisons and understaffed nursing homes; its chronically underfunded public-health system; its reliance on convoluted supply chains and a just-in-time economy; its for-profit health-care system, whose workers were already burned out; its decades-long project of unweaving social safety nets; and its legacy of racism and segregation that had already left Black and Indigenous communities and other communities of color disproportionately burdened with health problems. Even in the pre-COVID years, the U.S. was still losing about 626,000 people more than expected for a nation of its size and resources. COVID simply toppled an edifice whose foundations were already rotten. In furiously racing to rebuild on this same foundation, America sets itself up to collapse once more. Experience is reputedly the best teacher, and yet the U.S. repeated mistakes from the early pandemic when faced with the Delta and Omicron variants. It got early global access to vaccines, and nonetheless lost almost half a million people after all adults became eligible for the shots. It has struggled to control monkeypox—a slower-spreading virus for which there is already a vaccine. Its right-wing legislators have passed laws and rulings that curtail the possibility of important public-health measures like quarantines and vaccine mandates. It has made none of the broad changes that would protect its population against future pathogens, such as better ventilation or universal paid sick leave. Its choices virtually guarantee that everything that’s happened in the past three years will happen again. The U.S. will continue to struggle against infectious diseases in part because some of its most deeply held values are antithetical to the task of besting a virus. Since its founding, the country has prized a strain of rugged individualism that prioritizes individual freedom and valorizes self-reliance. According to this ethos, people are responsible for their own well-being, physical and moral strength are equated, social vulnerability results from personal weakness rather than policy failure, and handouts or advice from the government are unwelcome. Such ideals are disastrous when handling a pandemic, for two major reasons. First, diseases spread. Each person’s choices inextricably affect their community, and the threat to the collective always exceeds that to the individual. The original Omicron variant, for example, posed slightly less risk to each infected person than the variants that preceded it, but spread so quickly that it inundated hospitals, greatly magnifying COVID’s societal costs. To handle such threats, collective action is necessary. Governments need policies, such as vaccine requirements or, yes, mask mandates, that protect the health of entire populations, while individuals have to consider their contribution to everyone else’s risk alongside their own personal stakes. And yet, since the spring of 2021, pundits have mocked people who continue to think this way for being irrational and overcautious, and government officials have consistently framed COVID as a matter of personal responsibility. Second, a person’s circumstances always constrain their choices. Low-income and minority groups find it harder to avoid infections or isolate when sick because they’re more likely to live in crowded homes and hold hourly-wage jobs without paid leave or the option to work remotely. Places such as prisons and nursing homes, whose residents have little autonomy, became hot spots for the worst outbreaks. Treating a pandemic as an individualist free-for-all ignores how difficult it is for many Americans to protect themselves. It also leaves people with vulnerabilities that last across successive pathogens: The groups that suffered most during the H1N1 influenza pandemic of 2009 were the same ones that took the brunt of COVID, a decade later. America’s individualist bent has also shaped its entire health-care system, which ties health to wealth and employment. That system is organized around treating sick people at great and wasteful expense, instead of preventing communities from falling sick in the first place. The latter is the remit of public health rather than medicine, and has long been underfunded and undervalued. Even the CDC—the nation’s top public-health agency—changed its guidelines in February to prioritize hospitalizations over cases, implicitly tolerating infections as long as hospitals are stable. But such a strategy practically ensures that emergency rooms will be overwhelmed by a fast-spreading virus; that, consequently, health-care workers will quit; and that waves of chronically ill long-haulers who are disabled by their infections will seek care and receive nothing. All of that has happened and will happen again. America’s pandemic individualism means that it’s your job to protect yourself from infection; if you get sick, your treatment may be unaffordable, and if you don’t get better, you will struggle to find help, or even anyone who believes you.   In the late 19th century, many scholars realized that epidemics were social problems, whose spread and toll are influenced by poverty, inequality, overcrowding, hazardous working conditions, poor sanitation, and political negligence. But after the advent of germ theory, this social model was displaced by a biomedical and militaristic one, in which diseases were simple battles between hosts and pathogens, playing out within individual bodies. This paradigm conveniently allowed people to ignore the social context of disease. Instead of tackling intractable social problems, scientists focused on fighting microscopic enemies with drugs, vaccines, and other products of scientific research—an approach that sat easily with America’s abiding fixation on technology as a panacea.   The allure of biomedical panaceas is still strong. For more than a year, the Biden administration and its advisers have reassured Americans that, with vaccines and antivirals, “we have the tools” to control the pandemic. These tools are indeed effective, but their efficacy is limited if people can’t access them or don’t want to, and if the government doesn’t create policies that shift that dynamic. A profoundly unequal society was always going to struggle with access: People with low incomes, food insecurity, eviction risk, and no health insurance struggled to make or attend vaccine appointments, even after shots were widely available. A profoundly mistrustful society was always going to struggle with hesitancy, made worse by political polarization and rampantly spreading misinformation. The result is that just 72 percent of Americans have completed their initial course of shots and just half have gotten the first of the boosters necessary to protect against current variants. At the same time, almost all other protections have been stripped away, and COVID funding is evaporating. And yet the White House’s recent pandemic-preparedness strategy still focuses heavily on biomedical magic bullets, paying scant attention to the social conditions that could turn those bullets into duds. Technological solutions also tend to rise into society’s penthouses, while epidemics seep into its cracks. Cures, vaccines, and diagnostics first go to people with power, wealth, and education, who then move on, leaving the communities most affected by diseases to continue shouldering their burden. This dynamic explains why the same health inequities linger across the decades even as pathogens come and go, and why the U.S. has now normalized an appalling level of COVID death and disability. Such suffering is concentrated among elderly, immunocompromised, working-class, and minority communities—groups that are underrepresented among political decision makers and the media, who get to declare the pandemic over. Even when inequities are highlighted, knowledge seems to suppress action: In one study, white Americans felt less empathy for vulnerable communities and were less supportive of safety precautions after learning about COVID’s racial disparities. This attitude is self-destructive and limits the advantage that even the most privileged Americans enjoy. Measures that would flatten social inequities, such as universal health care and better ventilation, would benefit everyone—and their absence harms everyone, too. In 2021, young white Americans died at lower rates than Black and Indigenous Americans, but still at three times the rate of their counterparts in other wealthy countries. By failing to address its social weaknesses, the U.S. accumulates more of them. An estimated 9 million Americans have lost close loved ones to COVID; about 10 percent will likely experience prolonged grief, which the country’s meager mental-health services will struggle to address. Because of brain fog, fatigue, and other debilitating symptoms, long COVID is keeping the equivalent of 2 million to 4 million Americans out of work; between lost earnings and increased medical costs, it could cost the economy $2.6 trillion a year. The exodus of health-care workers, especially experienced veterans, has left hospitals with a shortfall of staff and know-how. Levels of trust—one of the most important predictors of a country’s success at controlling COVID—have fallen, making pandemic interventions harder to deploy, while creating fertile ground in which misinformation can germinate. This is the cost of accepting the unacceptable: an even weaker foundation that the next disease will assail. In the spring of 2020, I wrote that the pandemic would last for years, and that the U.S. would need long-term strategies to control it. But America’s leaders consistently acted as if they were fighting a skirmish rather than a siege, lifting protective measures too early, and then reenacting them too slowly. They have skirted the responsibility of articulating what it would actually look like for the pandemic to be over, which has meant that whenever citizens managed to flatten the curve, the time they bought was wasted. Endemicity was equated with inaction rather than active management. This attitude removed any incentive or will to make the sort of long-term changes that would curtail the current disaster and prevent future ones. And so America has little chance of effectively countering the inevitable pandemics of the future; it cannot even focus on the one that’s ongoing. If change happens, it will likely occur slowly and from the ground up. In the vein of ACT UP—the extraordinarily successful activist group that changed the world’s approach to AIDS—grassroots organizations of long-haulers, grievers, immunocompromised people, and others disproportionately harmed by the pandemic have formed, creating the kind of vocal constituency that public health has long lacked. More pandemics will happen, and the U.S. has spectacularly failed to contain the current one. But it cannot afford the luxury of nihilism. It still has time to address its bedrocks of individualism and inequality, to create a health system that effectively prevents sickness instead of merely struggling to treat it, and to enact policies that rightfully prioritize the needs of disabled and vulnerable communities. Such changes seem unrealistic given the relentless disappointments of the past three years, but substantial social progress always seems unfeasible until it is actually achieved. Normal led to this. It is not too late to fashion a better normal. Read More

Curious about wrinkle fillers, which hold the promise of smoother skin and a younger look without surgery? Don't confuse fillers with Botox, Dysport, and Xeomin. These are injectables that help smooth so-called dynamic lines -- such as forehead furrows and crow's feet caused by frowning and smiling -- by blocking muscle contractions under the skin. Instead, FDA-approved cosmetic (or dermal) fillers on the market help restore the contours of the face by padding folds and wrinkles and replacing lost volume. They work on any skin tone. Read More

A new study from the Medical College of Georgia at Augusta University has found that irrigating your nose twice a day with a saline solution after testing positive for Covid-19 can decrease your chances of hospitalization and death in higher-risk patients. Read More

This week’s horoscope calls for celebration! Two of the six planets that are currently retrograde in the sky end their backward journeys. Mercury retrograde ends on October 2nd in Virgo, healing all the miscommunications that occurred since the planetary moonwalk began on September 9th. Mercury and the Pluto retrograde in Capricorn align on October 6th, giving us the stamina and power to assert ourselves. Transformative Pluto turns direct on October 8th, ending the evolutionary journey that began on April 29th. Now we can expect to see the progress that we’ve made in our lives — even if it’s a little. We're now aware of the work it takes to grow and become better versions of ourselves.Aries Sun & Aries Rising Start writing in a journal to help yourself understand your actions. You can often act out brashly without being accountable. Understanding your emotions, through daily journaling, will give you the chance to comprehend the reasons why you fly off the handle or take aim at certain people. Doing this exercise is a healthy way to make amends with yourself and others because it will allow you to note the truth in all matters. You can see where and when you’re wrong or right in your dealings. Plus, how to say you’re sorry when you hurt those you love. Not only that, but it can inspire transformation to occur within. As one of the strongest zodiac signs, you can make the change you desire.ILLUSTRATION BY BARBARIANFLOWERTaurus Sun & Taurus Rising You want to take action and complete all of the errands that have been on the back burner since the beginning of last season, but you don’t have enough hours in the day to tackle these grueling tasks. Slowing down to meditate and mentally digest everything on your to-do will keep you sane and provide a greater supply of creativity and solutions. Don’t forget that self care is an essential part of life. It’s important to integrate it into your daily routine. Have a bath when you’re feeling anxious and rest your head when you’re stressed. Don’t push yourself to the limit. You need rest and relaxation to keep your spirit at peace. ILLUSTRATION BY BARBARIANFLOWERGemini Sun & Gemini Rising There are a lot of big business decisions you need to make. A daunting sense of déjà vu occurs often with career opportunities around you, mostly because you seem to be receiving the same assignments and projects from your boss. When discussing the matter, watch out for gaslighting. You may want to rethink the relationship with your current company and start working on new material or projects elsewhere (if you’re a freelancer) or another gig, because your creativity is at a high, and your talents are being wasted. This week is a roller coaster for work, but you’ll get through the highs and lows. ILLUSTRATION BY BARBARIANFLOWERCancer Sun & Cancer RisingThis week is an amazing time to hit the refresh button on your career. The cosmic energies at play are motivating you to try a unique approach to work, and you may be inspired to take on exciting projects that help you evolve into the best version of yourself. The world is waiting to see what you come up with now — and you won’t disappoint them. In fact, your creative insights will exceed expectations and give your competitors a run for their money. Don’t be shy about the final product and celebrate your professional successes. ILLUSTRATION BY BARBARIANFLOWERLeo Sun & Leo Rising The week ahead allows you to see the true intentions of your colleagues. You may find that they do not have your best interest at heart and are planning to take credit for the work that you’ve done. They don’t want you to have more praise and acclaim, so they’re usurping your insights and ideas as their own with the intention of silencing your creative vision. Demanding transparency can lead to minor arguments, so it’s important to approach the situation casually and with kindness. The silver lining is that you’re learning who you can trust. The actions of your dishonest coworkers will be brought to light.ILLUSTRATION BY BARBARIANFLOWERVirgo Sun & Virgo RisingIt will be hard to negotiate or come to a compromise with friends, lovers, or family members at the beginning of the week. Everyone is finding it extremely hard to understand each other’s point of view, but there are nice ways everyone can express themselves that do not create major turmoil. If you want a situation to change, choose your words wisely and kindly. Interpersonal relationships quickly transform when you speak your mind with an open heart and move toward transformation that will benefit your partnership as well as yourself.ILLUSTRATION BY BARBARIANFLOWERLibra Sun & Libra Rising The repetitiveness of your daily activities is becoming increasingly like a stagnant personal ritual. To be blunt, the monotonous nature is making you yearn for excitement and freedom from the regularly scheduled (and very organized) ongoings in your life.  Opting to do one thing differently won’t throw you off-balance and it’ll inspire you to make minor, positive changes that can radiate to other aspects of your life. Therefore, it is extremely important to step out of the norm and take the road less traveled in order to shake up your vibe, shift the energy, and confuse the matrix. The moment that you change up the energy, the more open and joyful your aura will be. ILLUSTRATION BY BARBARIANFLOWERScorpio Sun & Scorpio RisingThere comes a time in all relationships when the honeymoon is over and you have to face the harsh realities of the dynamics at play. A friend will push you to the limit, and you should not feel bad about saying no to protect your boundaries. Strong limits will help you both maintain the friendship. If a situation has gone too sour, then it’s time to move on without them. The moment you let go of these toxic and unhealthy friendships, you will feel more even-keeled and able to blossom into the person you were meant to be without the constant negativity they bring. ILLUSTRATION BY BARBARIANFLOWERSagittarius Sun & Sagittarius RisingOne of your close acquaintances at work may not have your best interests in mind. Before you share personal aspirations, confidential information, or creative ideas, be aware that they can be tricky and duplicitous at the moment. While you may want to confront them for stealing your creative ideas, it’s best to back down from arguing until all the pieces of the puzzle come together (because you can be too quick to speak without all the facts). Take a step back from running your mouth impulsively. It’s totally fine to not have the last word — something you’re becoming increasingly aware of. ILLUSTRATION BY BARBARIANFLOWERCapricorn Sun & Capricorn Rising You are hungry for change but may run into issues as you try and convince others to go along with your ideas, which are off the beaten path. Due to Pluto’s forward motion, there is a lot of energy in the sky right now asking you to evolve. As you know, getting there is not so easy. Pace yourself as you enter the work week. Remember that transformation doesn't happen overnight and that sticking to a routine while making small adjustments can still move things in the right direction — without overwhelming your psyche. Finding balance and noting what needs to grow won't be easy, so remember to find your breath if stress levels begin to rise. ILLUSTRATION BY BARBARIANFLOWERAquarius Sun & Aquarius RisingThe mirror always has two faces: the one you see and the other that weighs on your heart. Although it’s hard to project an optimistic image 24/7, the cosmos are urging you to use your people skills and to be kind when possible. The energy that you give out to the world is what you receive, which is all the more reason to keep a positive outlook on matters in order for the good energy to come back to you. This doesn’t mean constantly being happy. It’s okay to feel your feels. But, in your dealings with people, it’s crucial to extend warmth whenever possible. The more goodness and selflessness you project into the world, the more loving vibes will come back to you. ILLUSTRATION BY BARBARIANFLOWERPisces Sun & Pisces Rising If you are glorifying the past, then it’s time to open your eyes and remind yourself about what all these sentiments felt like when you first experienced them. The people that you’re yearning to connect with aren’t a part of your life anymore for a reason. Rather than dwell on how things were and should’ve been, remember the specific unpleasant experience that pushed you to give less energy and care to the matter. Let your heart move forward this week. Healing is key and fundamental over the next few days, as well as self-care, compassion, and love. Give yourself an emotional pass to move through the days with ease.ILLUSTRATION BY BARBARIANFLOWER. Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here? Your Monthly Horoscope For October 2022 Is Here. Hallelujah! Mercury Retrograde Is Finally Over. Venus In Libra Is The Best Time For Love. Read More

If you or someone you know is in crisis, call, text, or chat via 988, the national Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. NEWTON, Iowa — Jeff White knows what can happen when 911 dispatchers receive a call about someone who feels despondent or agitated. Read More

In recent years, accessibility to nonalcoholic beverages has surged, and perhaps for good reason. The COVID-19 pandemic alone brought in a new wave of sober-curious people, amid a rise in alcohol consumption during the isolation of lockdowns. To meet this shift, drinks like CBD-infused seltzers, zero-proof liquors, nonalcoholic wines and more have filled the shelves for those who are looking for party options without the buzz. Read More

The first couple weeks of October feel a little muddy. Mercury is getting out of retrograde pretty quickly on October 2, but there is always a shadow period afterward when that retrograde energy lingers. Using the three "retrograde R’s" (review, reflect, and redo) will still come in handy at the start of the month. When visualizing the weeks ahead, I’m getting an image of a person wearing galoshes in the mud and trying to walk quickly but being forced to slow down. This could prove to be a period when your projects aren’t getting off the ground as fast as you want them to, your communications are feeling flat, or you feel like doing nothing more than binge-reading your favorite cozy mysteries. And hey, it’s fall, who can blame you! Read More

How many women are likely to experience recurrent urinary tract infections, or U.T.I.s, in their lifetime? Read More

Academic philosophers these days do not tend to be the subjects of overwhelming attention in the national media. The Oxford professor William MacAskill is a notable exception. In the month and a half since the publication of his provocative new book, What We Owe the Future, he has been profiled or excerpted or reviewed or interviewed in just about every major American publication. MacAskill is a leader of the effective-altruism movement, whose adherents use evidence and reason to figure out how to do as much good in the world as possible. His book takes that fairly intuitive-sounding project in a somewhat less intuitive direction, arguing for an idea called “longtermism,” the view that members of future generations—we’re talking unimaginably distant descendants, not just your grandchildren or great-grandchildren—deserve the same moral consideration as people living in the present. The idea is predicated on brute arithmetic: Assuming humanity does not drive itself to premature extinction, future people will vastly outnumber present people, and so, the thinking goes, we ought to be spending a lot more time and energy looking out for their interests than we currently do. In practice, longtermists argue, this means prioritizing a set of existential threats that the average person doesn’t spend all that much time fretting about. At the top of the list: runaway artificial intelligence, bioengineered pandemics, nuclear holocaust. Whatever you think of longtermism or EA, they are fast gaining currency—both literally and figuratively. A movement once confined to university seminar tables and niche online forums now has tens of billions of dollars behind it. This year, it fielded its first major political candidate in the U.S. Earlier this month, I spoke with MacAskill about the logic of longtermism and EA, and the future of the movement more broadly. Our conversation has been edited for length and clarity. Jacob Stern: Effective altruists have been focused on pandemics since long before COVID. Are there ways that EA efforts helped with the COVID pandemic? If not, why not? William MacAskill: EAs, like many people in public health, were particularly early in terms of warning about the pandemic. There were some things that were helpful early, even if they didn't change the outcome completely. 1Day Sooner is an EA-funded organization that got set up to advocate for human challenge trials. And if governments had been more flexible and responsive, that could have led to vaccines being rolled out months earlier, I think. It would have meant you could get evidence of efficacy and safety much faster. [Read: How future generations will remember us] There is an organization called microCOVID that quantifies what your risk is of getting COVID from various sorts of activities you might do. You hang out with someone at a bar: What’s your chance of getting COVID? It would actually provide estimates of that, which was great and I think widely used. Our World in Data—which is kind of EA-adjacent—provided a leading source of data over the course of the pandemic. One thing I think I should say, though, is it makes me wish that we’d done way more on pandemics earlier. You know, these are all pretty minor in the grand scheme of things. I think EA did very well at identifying this as a threat, as a major issue we should care about, but I don’t think I can necessarily point to enormous advances. Stern: What are the lessons EA has taken from the pandemic? MacAskill: One lesson is that even extremely ambitious public-health plans won't necessarily suffice, at least for future pandemics, especially if one was a deliberate pandemic, from an engineered virus. Omicron infected roughly a quarter of Americans within 100 days. And there’s just not really a feasible path whereby you design, develop, and produce a vaccine and vaccinate everybody within 100 days. So what should we do for future pandemics? Early detection becomes absolutely crucial. What you can do is monitor wastewater at many, many sites around the world, and you screen the wastewater for all potential pathogens. We’re particularly worried about engineered pathogens: If we get a COVID-19-scale pandemic once every hundred years or so from natural origins, that chance increases dramatically given advances in bioengineering. You can take viruses and upgrade them in terms of their destructive properties so they can become more infectious or more lethal. It’s known as gain-of-function research. If this is happening all around the world, then you just should expect lab leaks quite regularly. There’s also the even more worrying phenomenon of bioweapons. It’s really a scary thing. In terms of labs, possibly we want to slow down or not even allow certain sorts of gain-of-function research. Minimally, what we could do is ask labs to have regulations such that there’s third-party liability insurance. So if I buy a car, I have to buy such insurance. If I hit someone, that means I’m insured for their health, because that’s an externality of driving a car. In labs, if you leak, you should have to pay for the costs. There’s no way you actually can insure against billions dead, but you could have some very high cap at least, and it would disincentivize unnecessary and dangerous research, while not disincentivizing necessary research, because then if it’s so important, you should be willing to pay the cost. Another thing I’m excited about is low-wavelength UV lighting. It’s a form of lighting that basically can sterilize a room safe for humans. It needs more research to confirm safety and efficacy and certainly to get the cost down; we want it at like a dollar a bulb. So then you could install it as part of building codes. Potentially no one ever gets a cold again. You eradicate most respiratory infections as well as the next pandemic. Stern: Shifting out of pandemic gear, I was wondering whether there are major lobbying efforts under way to persuade billionaires to convert to EA, given that the potential payoff of persuading someone like Jeff Bezos to donate some significant part of his fortune is just massive. MacAskill: I do a bunch of this. I’ve spoken at the Giving Pledge annual retreat, and I do a bunch of other speaking. It’s been pretty successful overall, insofar as there are other people kind of coming in—not on the size of Sam Bankman-Fried or Dustin Moskovitz and Cari Tuna, but there’s definitely further interest, and it is something I’ll kind of keep trying to do. Another organization is Longview Philanthropy, which has done a lot of advising for new philanthropists to get them more involved and interested in EA ideas. I have not ever successfully spoken with Jeff Bezos, but I would certainly take the opportunity. It has seemed to me like his giving so far is relatively small scale. It’s not clear to me how EA-motivated it is. But it would certainly be worth having a conversation with him. Stern: Another thing I was wondering about is the issue of abortion. On the surface at least, longtermism seems like it would commit you to—or at least point you in the direction of—an anti-abortion stance. But I know that you don’t see things that way. So I would love to hear how you think through that. MacAskill: Yes, I’m pro-choice. I don’t think government should interfere in women’s reproductive rights. The key distinction is when pro-life advocates say they are concerned about the unborn, they are saying that, at conception or shortly afterwards, the fetus becomes a person. And so what you’re doing when you have an abortion is morally equivalent or very similar to killing a newborn infant. From my perspective, what you’re doing when having an early-term abortion is much closer to choosing not to conceive. And I certainly don’t think that the government should be going around forcing people to conceive, and then certainly they shouldn’t be forcing people to not have an abortion. There is a second thought of Well, don’t you say it’s good to have more people, at least if they have sufficiently good lives? And there I say yes, but the right way of achieving morally valuable goals is not, again, by restricting people’s rights. Stern: I think there are at least three separate questions here. The first being this one that you just addressed: Is it right for a government to restrict abortion? The second being, on an individual level, if you’re a person thinking of having an abortion, is that choice ethical? And the third being, are you operating from the premise that unborn fetuses are a constituency in the same way that future people are a constituency? MacAskill: Yes and no on the last thing. In What We Owe the Future, I do argue for this view that I still find kind of intuitive: It can be good to have a new person in existence if their life is sufficiently good. Instrumentally, I think it’s important for the world to not have this dip in population that standard projections suggest. But then there’s nothing special about the unborn fetus. On the individual level, having kids and bringing them up well can be a good way to live, a good way of making the world better. I think there are many ways of making the world better. You can also donate. You can also change your career. Obviously, I don’t want to belittle having an abortion, because it’s often a heart-wrenching decision, but from a moral perspective I think it’s much closer to failing to conceive that month, rather than the pro-life view, which is it’s more like killing a child that’s born. Stern: What you're saying on some level makes total sense but is also something that I think your average pro-choice American would totally reject. MacAskill: It’s tough, because I think it’s mainly a matter of rhetoric and association. Because the average pro-choice American is also probably concerned about climate change. That involves concern for how our actions will impact generations of as-yet-unborn people. And so the key difference is the pro-life person wants to extend the franchise just a little bit to the 10 million unborn fetuses that are around at the moment. I want to extend the franchise to all future people! It’s a very different move. [Read: Is colonizing Mars the most important project in human history?] Stern: How do you think about trying to balance the moral rigor or correctness of your philosophy with the goal of actually getting the most people to subscribe and produce the most good in the world? Once you start down the logical path of effective altruism, it’s hard to figure out where to stop, how to justify not going full Peter Singer and giving almost all your money away. So how do you get people to a place where they feel comfortable going halfway or a quarter of the way? MacAskill: I think it’s tough because I don’t think there’s a privileged stopping point, philosophically. At least not until you’re at the point where you’re really doing almost everything you can. So with Giving What You Can, for example, we chose 10 percent as a target for what portion of people’s income they could give away. In a sense it’s a totally arbitrary number. Why not 9 percent or 11 percent? It does have the benefit of 10 percent being a round number. And it also is the right level, I think, where if you get people to give 1 percent, they’re probably giving that amount anyway. Whereas 10 percent, I think, is achievable yet at the same time really is a difference compared to what they otherwise would have been doing. That, I think, is just going to be true more generally. We try to have a culture that is accepting and supportive of these kinds of intermediate levels of sacrifice or commitment. It is something that people within EA struggle with, including myself. It’s kind of funny: People will often beat themselves up for not doing enough good, even though other people never beat other people up for not doing enough good. EA is really accepting that this stuff is hard, and we’re all human and we’re not superhuman moral saints. Stern: Which I guess is what worries or scares people about it. The idea that once I start thinking this way, how do I not end up beating myself up for not doing more? So I think where a lot of people end up, in light of that, is deciding that what’s easiest is just not thinking about any of it so they don’t feel bad. MacAskill: Yeah. And that’s a real shame. I don’t know. It bugs me a bit. It’s just a general issue of people when confronted with a moral idea. It’s like, Hey, you should become vegetarian. People are like, Oh, I should care about animals? What about if you had to kill an animal in order to live? Would you do that? What about eating sugar that is bleached with bone? You’re a hypocrite! Somehow people feel like unless you’re doing the most extreme version of your views, then it’s not justified. Look, it’s better to be a vegetarian than to not be a vegetarian. Let’s accept that things are on a spectrum. On the podcast I was just on, I was just like, ‘Look, these are all philosophical issues. This is irrelevant to the practical questions.’ It's funny that I am finding myself saying that more and more. Stern: On what grounds, EA-wise, did you justify spending an hour on the phone with me? MacAskill: I think the media is important! Getting the ideas out there is important. If more people hear about the ideas, some people are inspired, and they get off their seat and start doing stuff, that’s a huge impact. If I spend one hour talking to you, you write an article, and that leads to one person switching their career, well, that’s one hour turned into 80,000 hours—seems like a pretty good trade. Read More

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It’s true: I’m a few weeks shy of my 35th birthday and still use single-use menstrual pads. I don’t know if it was the trauma of that first shove of a dry tampon without an applicator at age thirteen or my narrow-set hips, but pads have always been my go-to period product. Other adults look at me like I’m crazy: Don’t pads feel like wearing a diaper? Wouldn’t I be more comfortable using tampons? The answer is a definitive no. I am a pad girl, through and through. However, I fully realize that they’re not the best choice — for me or the world. That’s right: The negative attributes of single-use pads extend beyond their carbon footprint (which, is Not Great, Bob). Besides not being biodegradable (and causing a ton of plastic waste), pads are chemically treated with bleach, which can irritate your skin or cause allergy flare-ups with prolonged use. Some people even attribute poor vaginal health and menstrual cramps to them (though no official studies have concluded that). As an extreme cramps sufferer, I will try anything to help them. Even (maybe) leave behind my beloved pads. But when I started looking at alternative period products, I was woefully intimidated by the popularity of the menstrual disc (which seemed even more terrifying than tampons). So, when the Hello Period washable pads and period undies came across my desk, I was cautiously optimistic. These machine-washable undies and pads are an eco-friendly solution to the one-use pads plastic problem. Plus, the panties come in two cuts — bikini and high-waisted — and range from size XS-3XL (pretty damn inclusive). The panties and pads both claim to absorb up to five pads’ worth of blood (perfect for my first-day heavy flow) and look cute while doing so. If that sounds pretty good to you, you’re in for an extra treat. Right now, Hello Period is giving R29 readers an exclusive 10% off their first order with code HELLOPERIOD10. Read on to find out my personal pros and cons of each product so that you can purchase with confidence. Hello Undies – Coral, $34.99 Though I have been aware of sustainable period underwear for some time, I’ve actually never tried any. Because I tend to have severe sensory issues during my period, I opted to try out Hello Period’s bikini cut first, which was most similar to the style I wear daily. I was immediately impressed with the cut and color. The bright coral with contrasting trim looked cute enough to be rolled up right next to my lacey Hanky Panky’s. And upon pulling them on, I could see why Hello Period already has such a fanbase. The super-thin fabric was cool and silky against my skin, and the color is so flattering, it surely would compliment any skintone. Had I not been on my period, I probably would have loved them, just based on appearance. However, the waistline cinched my midsection where my cramps were the most painful, and the trim (though absolutely adorable-looking) felt tight and rubbery at the seams. I had planned to wear them overnight to see if the absorbency claims held up, but I ended up taking the pair off in the middle of the night, feeling too constricted. To be fair, these undies would be perfect for someone who bleeds a lot but doesn’t suffer from horrible menstrual cramps. It did not leak at all, and I have complete faith that even if I’d worn them through the night, I would have woken up to still-pristine white sheets in the morning. Unfortunately for me, though, my cramps are a major menstrual issue. Therefore, this pair was not a match. Hello Undies High Waist – Blush, $44.99 The next day I moved onto the high-waisted undies. As I took them out of the packaging, I fell in love. The pattern on the high-waisted panties was somehow even cuter than the bikini (check out those mesh side panels and floral design!), there was something about the additional fabric that did not work for me. Though I looked stylish AF, I didn’t like how bulky it felt. Also worth noting: The high-waisted coverage doesn’t actual get you extra protection, either; the pad is the same absorbency and thickness as the bikini style. It’s possible it fell differently between my legs in this cut, but regardless, it was still not a match. I will admit, the one thing this pair had above the bikini style was that it didn’t cut me across my lower stomach, avoiding added discomfort where I was already cramping. It also comes in a black option, which honestly looks sexier than any of the underwear I currently have in my drawer. The mesh paneling contrasts with the black perfectly to accentuate your hips in a good way, and if you are a person who is in the market for some undies to wear before period sex, I would highly recommend these. Hello Pad, $14.99 Last but not least, I pulled out the washable pad. I don’t know why I was scared of it. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been wearing the same brand of single-use pads with wings for the last twenty years, but the idea of a new pad was intimidating. Turns out, I was a fool to wait so long. The Hello Pad is perfect for someone stuck in their pad ways. It’s a pad, just like the one I know and love, but without bleaching and/or plastic waste. I was worried it’d bunch up against my underwear or feel bulky like the panties I’d tried, but neither was true. The pad’s material requires no sticking and no wings; it just affixes to the inside of your panties (I wore a comfy pair of cotton ones all day that worked great), and it didn’t have the weird rubbery lining feeling I had with the panties. I think that’s because I was applying it, I could move it exactly where I wanted it, instead of relying on the panty’s fit for correct crotch placement. Though it was definitely a sensory adjustment (I kept worrying it’d move around and cause blood to get all over my furniture), I think with more wear I’d get used to the feeling. I might try and get into period panties someday, but for now, I’ll stick to good old reliable pads. Just a more sustainable version. At Refinery29, we’re here to help you navigate this overwhelming world of stuff. All of our market picks are independently selected and curated by the editorial team. All product details reflect the price and availability at the time of publication. If you buy or click on something we link to on our site, Refinery29 may earn commission. Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here? Surprisingly Sexy Ways To Alleviate Period Cramps. How To Have Period Sex. 6 Pairs of Period Underwear For Any Leaky. Read More

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Kira Stoops lives in Bozeman, Montana—a beautiful mountain town where it sometimes feels like everyone regularly goes on 50-mile runs. Stoops, however, can’t walk around her own block on most days. To stand for more than a few minutes, she needs a wheeled walker. She reacts so badly to most foods that her diet consists of just 12 ingredients. Her “brain fog” usually lifts for a mere two hours in the morning, during which she can sometimes work or, more rarely, see friends. Stoops has myalgic encephalomyelitis, or chronic fatigue syndrome (ME/CFS). “I’m considered a moderate patient on the mild side,” she told me. ME/CFS involves a panoply of debilitating symptoms that affect many organ systems and that get worse with exertion. The Institute of Medicine estimates that it affects 836,000 to 2.5 million people in the U.S. alone, but is so misunderstood and stigmatized that about 90 percent of people who have it have never been diagnosed. At best, most medical professionals know nothing about ME/CFS; at worst, they tell patients that their symptoms are psychosomatic, anxiety-induced, or simply signs of laziness. While ME/CFS patients, their caregivers, and the few doctors who treat them have spent years fighting for medical legitimacy, the coronavirus pandemic has now forced the issue. A wide variety of infections can cause ME/CFS, and SARS-CoV-2, the coronavirus that causes COVID-19, is no different: Many cases of long COVID are effectively ME/CFS by another name. The exact number is hard to define, but past studies have shown that 5 to 27 percent of people infected by various pathogens, including Epstein-Barr virus and the original SARS, develop ME/CFS. Even if that proportion is 10 times lower for SARS-CoV-2, the number of Americans with ME/CFS would still have doubled in the past three years. “We’re adding an immense volume of patients to an already dysfunctional and overburdened system,” Beth Pollack, a scientist at MIT who studies complex chronic illnesses, told me. The U.S. has so few doctors who truly understand the disease and know how to treat it that when they convened in 2018 to create a formal coalition, there were only about a dozen, and the youngest was 60. Currently, the coalition’s website lists just 21 names, of whom at least three have retired and one is dead, Linda Tannenbaum, the CEO and president of the Open Medicine Foundation, told me. These specialists are concentrated on the coasts; none work in the Midwest. American ME/CFS patients may outnumber the population of 15 individual states, but ME/CFS specialists couldn’t fill a Major League Baseball roster. Stoops, who is 39, was formally diagnosed with ME/CFS only four years ago, and began receiving proper care from two of those specialists—Lucinda Bateman of the Bateman Horne Center and David Kaufman from the Center for Complex Diseases. Bateman told me that even before the pandemic, she could see fewer than 10 percent of the patients who asked for a consultation. “When I got into those practices, it was like I got into Harvard,” Stoops told me. ME/CFS specialists, already overwhelmed with demand for their services, now have to decide how to best use and spread their knowledge, at a time when more patients and doctors than ever could benefit from it. Kaufman recently discharged many of the more stable ME/CFS patients in his care—Stoops among them—so that he could start seeing COVID long-haulers who “were just making the circuit of doctors and getting nowhere,” he told me. “I can’t clone myself, and this was the only other way to” make room for new patients. Bateman, meanwhile, is feverishly focused on educating other clinicians. The hallmark symptom of ME/CFS—post-exertional malaise, or PEM—means even light physical or mental exertion can trigger major crashes that exacerbate every other symptom. Doctors who are unfamiliar with PEM, including many now running long-COVID clinics, can unwittingly hurt their patients by encouraging them to exercise. Bateman is racing to spread that message, and better ways of treating patients, but that means she’ll have to reduce her clinic hours. These agonizing decisions mean that many existing ME/CFS patients are losing access to the best care they had found so far—what for Stoops meant “the difference between being stuck at home, miserable and in pain, and actually going out once or twice a day, seeing other humans, and breathing fresh air,” she told me. But painful trade-offs might be necessary to finally drag American medicine to a place where it can treat these kinds of complex, oft-neglected conditions. Kaufman is 75 and Bateman is 64. Although both of them told me they’re not retiring anytime soon, they also won’t be practicing forever. To make full use of their expertise and create more doctors like them, the medical profession must face up to decades spent dismissing illnesses such as ME/CFS—an overdue reckoning incited by long COVID. “It’s a disaster possibly wrapped up in a blessing,” Stoops told me. “The system is cracking and needs to crack.”   Many ME/CFS specialists have a deep knowledge of the disease because they’ve experienced it firsthand. Jennifer Curtin, one of the youngest doctors in the field, has two family members with the disease, and had it herself for nine years. She improved enough to make it through medical school and residency training, which showed her that ME/CFS “just isn’t taught,” she told me. Most curricula don’t include it; most textbooks don’t mention it. Even if doctors learn about ME/CFS, America’s health-care system makes it almost impossible for them to actually help patients. The insurance model pushes physicians toward shorter visits; 15 minutes might feel luxurious. “My average visit length is an hour, which doesn’t include the time I spend going over the patient’s 500 to 1,700 pages of records beforehand,” Curtin said. “It’s not a very scalable kind of care.” (She works with Kaufman at the Center for Complex Diseases, which bills patients directly.) This also explains why the cohort of ME/CFS clinicians is aging out, with little young blood to refresh them. “Hospital systems want physicians to see lots of patients and they want them to follow the rules,” Kaufman said. “There’s less motivation for moving into areas of medicine that are more unknown and challenging.” ME/CFS is certainly challenging, not least because it’s just “one face of a many-sided problem,” Jaime Seltzer, the director of scientific and medical outreach at the advocacy group MEAction, told me. The condition’s root causes can also lead to several distinct but interlocking illnesses, including mast cell activation syndrome, Ehlers Danlos syndrome, fibromyalgia, dysautonomia (usually manifesting as POTS), and several autoimmune and gastrointestinal disorders. “I’m still amazed at how often patients come in with Complaint No. 1, and then I find five to seven of the other things,” Kaufman said. These syndromes collectively afflict many organ systems, which can baffle doctors who’ve specialized in just one. Many of them disproportionately affect women, and are subject to medicine’s long-standing tendency to minimize or psychologize women’s pain, Pollack told me: An average woman with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome typically spends 16 years getting a diagnosis, while a man needs only four. People with long COVID might have many of these conditions and not know about any—because their doctors don’t either. Like ME/CFS, they rarely feature in medical training, and it’s hard to “teach someone about all of them when they’ve never heard of any of them,” Seltzer said. Specialists like Bateman and Kaufman matter because they understand not just ME/CFS but also the connected puzzle pieces. They can look at a patient’s full array of symptoms and prioritize the ones that are most urgent or foundational. They know how to test for conditions that can be invisible to standard medical techniques: “None of my tests came back abnormal until I saw an ME/CFS doctor, and then all my tests came back abnormal,” said Hannah Davis of the Patient-Led Research Collaborative, who has had long COVID since March 2020. ME/CFS specialists also know how to help, in ways that are directly applicable to cases of long COVID with overlapping symptoms. ME/CFS has no cure but can be managed, often through “simple, inexpensive interventions that can be done through primary care,” Bateman told me. Over-the-counter antihistamines can help patients with inflammatory problems such as mast cell activation syndrome. Low doses of naltrexone, commonly used for addiction disorders, can help those with intense pain. A simple but rarely administered test can show if patients have orthostatic intolerance—a blood-flow problem that worsens other symptoms when people stand or sit upright. Most important, teaching patients about pacing—carefully sensing and managing your energy levels—can prevent debilitating crashes. “We don’t go to an ME/CFS clinic and walk out in remission,” Stoops told me. “You go to become stabilized. The ship has 1,000 holes, and doctors can patch one before the next explodes, keeping the whole thing afloat.” That’s why the prospect of losing specialists is so galling. Stoops understands why her doctors might choose to focus on education or newly diagnosed COVID long-haulers, but ME/CFS patients are “just so lost already, and to lose what little we have is a really big deal,” she said. Kaufman has offered to refer her to generalist physicians or talk to primary-care doctors on her behalf. But it won’t be the same: “Having one appointment with him is like six to eight appointments with other practitioners,” she said. He educates her about ME/CFS; with other doctors, it’s often the other way round. “I’m going to have to work much harder to receive a similar level of care.” At least, she will for now. The ME/CFS specialists who are shifting their focus are hoping that they can use this moment of crisis to create more resources for everyone with these diseases. In a few years, Bateman hopes, “there will be 100 times more clinicians who are prepared to manage patients, and many more people with ME/CFS who have access to care.” For someone who is diagnosed with ME/CFS today, the landscape already looks very different than it did just a decade ago. In 2015, the Institute of Medicine published a landmark report redefining the diagnostic criteria for the disease. In 2017, the CDC stopped recommending exercise therapy as a treatment. In 2021, Bateman and 20 other clinicians published a comprehensive guide to the condition in the journal of the Mayo Clinic. For any mainstream disease, such events—a report, a guideline revision, a review article—would be mundane. For ME/CFS, they felt momentous. And yet, “the current state of things is simply intolerable,” Julie Rehmeyer, a journalist with ME/CFS, told me. Solving the gargantuan challenge posed by complex chronic diseases demands seismic shifts in research funding, medical training, and public attitudes. “Achieving shifts like that takes something big,” Rehmeyer said. “Long COVID is big.” COVID long-haulers have proved beyond any reasonable doubt that acute viral infections can leave people chronically ill. Many health-care workers, political-decision makers, and influencers either know someone with long COVID or have it themselves. Even if they still don’t know about ME/CFS, their heightened awareness of post-viral illnesses is already making a difference. Mary Dimmock’s son developed ME/CFS in 2011, and before the pandemic, one doctor in 10 might take him seriously. “Now it’s the flip: Only one doctor out of 10 will be a real jerk,” Dimmock told me. “I attribute that to long COVID.” But being believed is the very least that ME/CFS patients deserve. They need therapeutics that target the root causes of the disease, which will require a clear understanding of those causes, which will require coordinated, well-funded research—three things ME/CFS has historically lacked. But here, too, “long COVID is going to be a catalyst,” Amy Proal, the president of the Polybio Research Foundation, told me. She is leading the Long Covid Research Initiative—a group of scientists, including ME/CFS researchers, that will use state-of-the-art techniques to see exactly how the new coronavirus causes long COVID, and rapidly push potential treatments through clinical trials. The National Institutes of Health has also committed $1.15 billion to long-COVID research, and while some advocates are concerned about how that money will be spent, Rehmeyer notes that the amount is still almost 80 times greater than the paltry $15 million spent on ME/CFS every year—less than any other disease in the NIH’s portfolio, relative to its societal burden. “Even if 90 percent is wasted, we’d be doing a lot better,” she said. While they wait for better treatments, patients also need the medical community to heed the lessons that they and their clinicians have learned. For example, the American Association for Family Physicians website still wrongly recommends exercise therapy and links ME/CFS to childhood abuse. “That group of doctors is very important to these patients,” Dimmock said, “so what does that say to them about what this disease is all about?” Despite all evidence to the contrary, many clinicians and researchers still don’t see ME/CFS as a legitimate illness and are quick to dismiss any connection between it and long COVID. To ensure that both groups of patients get the best possible treatments, instead of advice that might harm them, ME/CFS specialists are working to disseminate their hard-won knowledge. Bateman and her colleagues have been creating educational resources for clinicians and patients, continuing-medical-education courses, and an online lecture series. Jennifer Curtin has spent two years mapping all the decisions she makes when seeing a new patient, and is converting those into a tool that other clinicians can use. As part of her new start-up, called RTHM, she’s also trying to develop better ways of testing for ME/CFS and its related syndromes, of visualizing the hefty electronic health records that chronically ill patients accumulate, and of tracking the treatments they try and their effects. “There are a lot of things that need to be fixed for this kind of care to be scalable,” Curtin told me. Had such shifts already occurred, the medical profession might have had more to offer COVID long-haulers beyond bewilderment and dismissal. But if the profession starts listening to the ME/CFS community now, it will stand the best chance of helping people being disabled by COVID, and of steeling itself against future epidemics. Pathogens have been chronically disabling people for the longest time, and more pandemics are inevitable. The current one could and should be the last whose long-haulers are greeted with disbelief. New centers that cater to ME/CFS patients are already emerging. RTHM is currently focused on COVID long-haulers but will take on some of David Kaufman’s former patients in November, and will open its waiting list to the broader ME/CFS community in December. (It is currently licensed to practice in just five states but expects to expand soon.) David Putrino, who leads a long-COVID rehabilitation clinic in Mount Sinai, is trying to raise funds for a new clinic that will treat both long COVID and ME/CFS. He credits ME/CFS patients with opening his eyes to the connection between long COVID and their condition. Every ME/CFS patient I’ve talked with predicted long COVID’s arrival well before most doctors or even epidemiologists started catching up. They know more about complex chronic illnesses than many of the people now treating long COVID do. Despite having a condition that saps their energy, many have spent the past few years helping long-haulers navigate what for them was well-trodden terrain: “I did barely anything but work in 2020,” Seltzer told me. Against the odds, they’ve survived. But the pandemic has created a catalytic opportunity for the odds to finally be tilted in their favor, “so that neither patients nor doctors of any complex chronic illness have to be heroes anymore,” Rehmeyer said. Read More

People of all genders can get breast cancer, so it’s important for trans men and trans women to consider that as part of their health care. “Anyone who has breast tissue could potentially or theoretically develop breast cancer,” says Fan Liang, MD, medical director of the Center for Transgender Health at Johns Hopkins Medicine in Baltimore. Read More

The U.K.’s health secretary has declined to order extra monkeypox vaccines against the advice of the government agency responsible for protecting public health, the Financial Times has reported. Although the U.K.’s outbreak has declined significantly, experts fear a lack of extra stockpiled shots could leave the country vulnerable to future resurgences. Read More

As the COVID-19 pandemic presses on, the U.S. healthcare system continues to fail Black and brown women and birthing people. According to a recent study released by the Blue Cross Blue Shield Association (BCBSA), pregnancy-related complications have worsened 9% since 2018, and particularly during the pandemic. Of those complications, women of color are at a nearly 70% higher risk of pregnancy-related complications than white women, and maternal health disparities are still to blame amidst a myriad of health system and societal issues — including but not limited to chronic health conditions, racial inequities, and healthcare system biases.   “When it comes to racial disparities in childbirth complications, the pandemic has only sent us further in the wrong direction, and we were in a bad place to begin with,” Kim Keck, president and CEO of BCBSA, said in a statement. “We have a bold goal of reducing racial disparities in maternal health by 50% in five years, and BCBS companies are taking action through advocacy, partnerships and local programs to support mothers at every stage of their pregnancy. Every mother deserves to have a healthy pregnancy, deliver a healthy baby, and live a healthy postpartum life. We invite everyone to join us in making this a reality.”  Unfortunately, that reality doesn’t look like it will happen any time soon. In 2019, the CDC reported that Black folx in America are over three times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than white people, and as this latest study shows, things don’t seem to be getting much better. BCBSA examined childbirth complication rates in close to 11 million U.S. births and found that Black, Latina and Asian women have higher rates of severe maternal morbidity (SMM) than white women do. This is regardless of their age or the type of health insurance they have. “One’s race or ethnicity should not determine how likely you are to suffer from pregnancy-related complications. We must address deep-rooted issues like implicit bias and systemic racism that cause these disparities in the first place,” Dr. Adam Myers, senior vice president and chief clinical transformation officer for BCBSA, said in the same statement. “To achieve better outcomes, we need to make sure care before pregnancy is easily accessible and equitable for all women, in addition to robust prenatal care, and ongoing postpartum care to ensure the safety of future pregnancies.” Achieving better outcomes also means continuing to support those in our community who are addressing these issues, especially organizations fighting for Black maternal health. Some of them include Washington D.C.’s Mamatoto Village, which provides perinatal support for Black women and families, New Orleans’ Sista Midwife Productions, a birth advocacy organization, among many others. The Tulsa Birth Equity Initiative (TBEI), a community-based doula program that provides doula services to expecting parents, is another example of those doing work to change what’s happening. “It is not just a maternal health issue when we think about the disparities that exist with historically marginalized groups; it’s a racial equity issue that seems to span many sectors, like education and the criminal justice system,” LaBrisa Williams, Tulsa native and director of TBEI, told Unbothered last year. If we are to shift the trajectory of what’s happening to Black and brown birthing people, we must hold accountable the systems that are responsible, and we also need to bolster community-centered solutions. This moment is crucial, and we need each other now more than ever. Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here? Tulsa Is Fighting The Black Maternal Health Crisis. Black Maternal Mortality Is Not For Sale. The Black Maternal Health Crisis Needs Solutions. Read More

The CDC made many communications mistakes during Covid, from confusing guidance to delayed recommendations. CDC staffers say they've been frustrated and concerned. Read More

If you’re a one-coffee-per-day drinker, it may be time to up your intake. A new study shows that drinking multiple cups of coffee every day is linked with better heart health and an overall reduction in death. Read More

It's exciting to see more and more experts embracing lifestyle as a powerful tool to prevent cognitive decline. After all, when it comes to brain health, it's important to mitigate potential issues before they manifest with symptoms. Translation: With cognitive decline, it's best to intervene as early as you can. Enter neurologist Dale Bredesen, M.D., author of the New York Times bestselling book The End of Alzheimer's. He has made it his mission to provide actionable advice on cognitive decline and help people truly optimize their brain health—regardless of their age or cognitive status. Read More

A study from 2019 suggested that a major form of discrimination against bisexual people is “identity invalidation” — or the idea that your sexuality is not valid, or is ignored. The study found that much of this discrimination often comes from gay and lesbian people, followed by family members and straight people, and that it can directly affect bisexual people’s mental health, including contributing to depression, stress and exacerbated or triggered anxiety. Read More

For about 60 years, health authorities in the United States have been championing a routine for at least some sector of the public: a yearly flu shot. That recommendation now applies to every American over the age of six months, and for many of us, flu vaccines have become a fixture of fall. The logic of that timeline seems solid enough. A shot in the autumn preps the body for each winter’s circulating viral strains. But years into researching flu immunity, experts have yet to reach a consensus on the optimal time to receive the vaccine—or even the number of injections that should be doled out. Each year, a new flu shot recipe debuts in the U.S. sometime around July or August, and according to the CDC the best time for most people to show up for an injection is about now: preferably no sooner than September, ideally no later than the end of October. Many health-care systems require their employees to get the shot in this time frame as well. But those who opt to follow the CDC current guidelines, as I recently did, then mention that fact in a forum frequented by a bunch of experts, as I also recently did, might rapidly hear that they’ve made a terrible, terrible choice. “There’s no way I would do what you did,” one virologist texted me. “It’s poor advice to get the flu vaccine now.” Florian Krammer, a virologist at Mount Sinai’s Icahn School of Medicine, echoed that sentiment in a tweet: “I think it is too early to get a flu shot.” When I prodded other experts to share their scheduling preferences, I found that some are September shooters, but others won’t juice up till December or later. One vaccinologist I spoke with goes totally avant-garde, and nabs multiple doses a year. [Read: Should your flu and COVID shots go in different arms?] There is definitely such a thing as getting a flu shot too early, as Helen Branswell has reported for Stat. After people get their vaccine, levels of antibodies rocket up, buoying protection against both infection and disease. But after only weeks, the number of those molecules begins to steadily tick downward, raising people’s risk of developing a symptomatic case of flu by about 6 to 18 percent, various studies have found. On average, people can expect that a good portion of their anti-flu antibodies “are meaningfully gone by about three or so months” after a shot, says Lauren Rodda, an immunologist at the University of Washington. That decline is why some researchers, Krammer among them, think that September and even October shots could be premature, especially if flu activity peaks well after winter begins. In about three-quarters of the flu seasons from 1982 to 2020, the virus didn’t hit its apex until January or later. Krammer, for one, told me that he usually waits until at least late November to dose up. Stanley Plotkin, a 90-year-old vaccinologist and vaccine consultant, has a different solution. People in his age group—over 65—don’t respond as well to vaccines in general, and seem to lose protection more rapidly. So for the past several years, Plotkin has doubled up on flu shots, getting one sometime before Halloween and another in January, to ensure he’s chock-full of antibodies throughout the entire risky, wintry stretch. “The higher the titers,” or antibody levels, Plotkin told me, “the better the efficacy, so I’m trying to take advantage of that.” (He made clear to me that he wasn’t “making recommendations for the rest of the world”—just “playing the odds” given his age.) Data on doubling up is quite sparse. But Ben Cowling, an epidemiologist and flu researcher at Hong Kong University, has been running a years-long study to figure out whether offering two vaccines a year, separated by roughly six months, could keep vulnerable people safe for longer. His target population is Hong Kongers, who often experience multiple annual flu peaks, one seeded by the Northern Hemisphere’s winter wave and another by the Southern Hemisphere’s. So far, “getting that second dose seems to give you additional protection,” Cowling told me, “and it seems like there’s no harm of getting vaccinated twice a year,” apart from the financial and logistical cost of a double rollout. [Read: The strongest sign that Americans should worry about flu this winter] In the U.S., though, flu season is usually synonymous with winter. And the closer together two shots are given, the more blunted the effects of the second injection might be: People who are already bustling with antibodies may obliterate a second shot’s contents before the vaccine has a chance to teach immune cells anything new. That might be why several studies that have looked at double-dosing flu shots within weeks of each other “showed no benefit” in older people and certain immunocompromised groups, Poland told me. (One exception? Organ transplant recipients. Kids getting their very first flu shot are also supposed to get two of them, four weeks apart.) Even at the three-ish-month mark past vaccination, the body’s anti-flu defenses don’t reset to zero, Rodda told me. Shots shore up B cells and T cells, which can survive for many months or years in various anatomical nooks and crannies. Those arsenals are especially hefty in people who have banked a lifetime of exposures to flu viruses and vaccines, and they can guard people against severe disease, hospitalization, and death, even after an antibody surge has faded. A recent study found that vaccine protection against flu hospitalizations ebbed by less than 10 percent a month after people got their shot, though the rates among adults older than 65 were a smidge higher. Still other numbers barely noted any changes in post-vaccine safeguards against symptomatic flu cases of a range of severities, at least within the first few months. “I do think the best protection is within three months of vaccination,” Cowling told me. “But there’s still a good amount by six.” For some young, healthy adults, a decent number of flu antibodies may actually stick around for more than a year. “You can test my blood right now,” Rodda told me. “I haven’t gotten vaccinated just yet this year, and I have detectable titers.” Ali Ellebedy, an immunologist at Washington University in St. Louis, told me he has found that some people who have regularly received flu vaccines have almost no antibody bump when they get a fresh shot: Their blood is already hopping with the molecules. Preexisting immunity also seems to be a big reason that nasal-spray-based flu vaccines don’t work terribly well in adults, whose airways have hosted far more flu viruses than children’s. Getting a second flu shot in a single season is pretty unlikely to hurt. But Ellebedy compares it to taking out a second insurance policy on a car that’s rarely driven: likely of quite marginal benefit for most people. Plus, because it’s not a sanctioned flu-vaccine regimen, pharmacists might be reluctant to acquiesce, Poland pointed out. Double-dosing probably wouldn’t stand much of a chance as an official CDC recommendation, either. “We do a bad enough job,” Poland said, getting Americans to take even one dose a year. [Read: America’s flu-shot problem is also its next COVID-shot problem] That’s why the push to vaccinate in late summer and early fall is so essential for the single shot we currently have, says Huong McLean, a vaccine researcher at the Marshfield Clinic Research Institute in Wisconsin. “People get busy, and health systems are making sure that most people can get protected before the season starts,” she told me. Ellebedy, who’s usually a September vaccinator, told me he “doesn’t see the point of delaying vaccination for fear of having a lower antibody level in February.” Flu seasons are unpredictable, with some starting as early as October, and the viruses aren’t usually keen on giving their hosts a heads-up. That makes dillydallying a risk: Put the shot off till November or December, and “you might get infected in between,” Ellebedy said—or simply forget to make an appointment at all, especially as the holidays draw near. In the future, improvements to flu-shot tech could help cleave off some of the ambiguity. Higher doses of vaccine, which are given to older people, could rile up the immune system to a greater degree; the same could be true for more provocative vaccines, made with ingredients called adjuvants that trip more of the body’s defensive sensors. Injections such as those seem to “maintain higher antibody titers year-round,” says Sophie Valkenburg, an immunologist at Hong Kong University and the University of Melbourne—a trend that Ellebedy attributes to the body investing more resources in training its fighters against what it perceives to be a larger threat. Such a switch would likely come with a cost, though, McLean said: Higher doses and adjuvants “also mean more adverse events, more reactions to the vaccine.” For now, the only obvious choice, Rodda told me, is to “definitely get vaccinated this year.” After the past two flu seasons, one essentially absent and one super light, and with flu-vaccination rates still lackluster, Americans are more likely than not in immunity deficit. Flu-vaccination rates have also ticked downward since the coronavirus pandemic began, which means there may be an argument for erring on the early side this season, if only to ensure that people reinforce their defenses against severe disease, Rodda said. Plus, Australia’s recent flu season, often a bellwether for ours, arrived ahead of schedule. Even so, people who vaccinate too early could end up sicker in late winter—in the same way that people who vaccinate too late could end up sicker now. Plotkin told me that staying apprised of the epidemiology helps: “If I heard influenza outbreaks were starting to occur now, I would go and get my first dose.” But timing remains a gamble, subject to the virus’s whims. Flu is ornery and unpredictable, and often unwilling to be forecasted at all. Read More

Editor’s note: Find more information about long COVID in Medscape’s Long COVID Resource Center. Sept. 22, 2022 – Entrepreneur Maya McNulty, 49, was one of the first victims of the COVID-19 pandemic. The Schenectady, NY, businesswoman spent 2 months in the hospital after catching the disease in March 2020. That September, she was diagnosed with long COVID. Read More

Joe Kiani surmounted overwhelming personal and professional odds to build a better blood oxygen monitoring device. So why should he be afraid to push his scrappy company into consumer electronics, challenging firms 100 times its size? Read More

At least once a week, the writers and editors on Refinery29's Life team get into a long Slack conversation about some cool new item that's been absolutely saving or changing or elevating our lives. So we decided to share the wealth, and highlight some of our favorite products and experiences each month. This month, we're obsessed with packing cubes, a new flavor of High Noon, and Nike bike shorts. Ahead, our Life team shares what they're buying as we head into fall. At Refinery29, we’re here to help you navigate this overwhelming world of stuff. All of our market picks are independently selected and curated by the editorial team. If you buy something we link to on our site, Refinery29 may earn commission.Veken 6 Set Packing Cubes "I went on my first-ever vacation to Europe earlier in September and was completely anxious about what I was going to bring. I'm definitely an over-packer, but I still wanted to leave room in my suitcase to bring home any goodies I picked up while abroad. I was introduced to the world of packing cubes by my travel-savvy friends, and when I say these saved my life, I mean it. I was able to fit so many clothing items in my suitcase — with extra room! — that I ended up not even wearing everything I brought with me. I'll no longer travel without these." — Elizabeth Gulino, Senior Writer Veken 6 Set Packing Cubes, $, available at AmazonNike Women's Mid-Rise Bike Shorts "After finding myself luggage-less for almost a week on a recent trip to NYC (long story), I very much needed some new pants and to blow off some steam. I purchased these Nike bike shorts so I could run away from frustrations around Brooklyn, but they are so comfortable (i.e. tight and supportive without constricting), I've been wearing them 24/7 even though my baggage was finally found." — Carli Whitwell, Senior Director of Editorial Nike Women's Mid-Rise Bike Shorts, $, available at NikeRefinery29 Twitch This isn't a purchase, per se, but it watching R29's new Twitch stream definitely brought some feelings of wellness to my lifestyle this week. We go live every Thursday at 5 p.m EST! Come join! Francis Coppola Reserve Petite Sirah "I'm honestly not a wine girlie, but I had the chance to tour the Francis Ford Coppola winery this summer on vacation, and this vino blew me away (even more than the horse head scene in The Godfather — Coppola’s second best work of art, next to this wine, as far as I’m concerned). I loved the flavors reminiscent of berries, dark chocolate, and espresso so much during my tasting that I bought a bottle for the road." — Molly Longman, Senior Staff Writer Francis Ford Coppola Winery Francis Coppola Reserve Petite Sirah, $, available at Francis Ford Coppola WineryHigh Noon Pear Vodka Hard Seltzer "As the resident Refinery29 hard seltzer connoisseur, I take my High Noon flavor rankings extremely seriously. I didn't think it would be possible for a fall flavor to usurp my summer fave, lemon, but the new pear flavor has really wiggled its way into my heart. It's light and refreshing as we expect from High Noon, but the slight tartness makes it feel distinctly fall — which is quite an accomplishment for a drink usually tied to hot summer days. Originally part of the Tailgate pack, I'll be stocking up on pear four-packs to get me through winter." — Hannah Rimm, Senior Editor High Noon High Noon Pear Vodka Hard Seltzer, $, available at DrizlyHometown Map Stemless Wine Glass "My dad is notoriously impossible to shop for, so when I discovered Well Told Designs, I was elated. Their hometown map glassware is perfect for adding a little hometown nostalgia to any bar cart or wine lover's collection. I got my dad's hometown on a wine glass as a gift for winning an alumni award, and am now planning to get the whole family glasses to match." — HR Well Told Design Hometown Map Stemless Wine Glass, $, available at Well Told DesignImpossible Chicken Patties "I like to think of myself as somebody with a sophisticated palate, but at my core, I'm still a kid obsessed with chicken nuggets. I eat meat, but try to limit my consumption, so when I discovered Impossible Foods was making chicken patties and nuggets, I was beside myself. They're delicious, they're so easy to make (I just pop them in the toaster!), and I don't miss actual chicken at all. Whether I'm putting them on top of a salad or slathering them in ketchup and mayo on a bun, these patties have become a new staple in my WFH lunch routine." — HR Impossible Foods Impossible Chicken Patties Made From Plants, $, available at Instacart. Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here? All The Lifestyle Products We Loved In July. All The Lifestyle Products We Loved In August. All The Lifestyle Products We Loved In June. Read More

Workers and patients said the facility's running water went out after Hurricane Ian hit. High-risk patients are being evacuated by ambulance and helicopter. Read More

Thomas Barwick via Getty Images Have you ever just looked at a display of pumpkins, gourds and Halloween lights at a neighbor’s house (or even in your own home) and felt instantly happier? Well, there’s a scientific explanation for that. Joy doesn’t have to come from big gestures or monumental days; it can come from little moments, too. It’s important to have things that we find pleasurable incorporated into our lives throughout the year, said Dr. Elaina DellaCava, a psychiatrist at New York’s Weill Cornell Medicine and NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital. Read More

Just like the well-known Dry January, Sober October is about cutting back on alcohol. It’s an invitation to reconnect with our friends and family minus the buzz, or revive those personal goals often cast aside amidst a happy hour buzz or next-day headache. Even with the holidays right around the corner, we still want to enjoy every moment—and partaking in Sober October with Athletic Brewing Company’s award-winning non-alcoholic beer is an easy way to press pause on the cocktails without saying farewell to fun. In fact, piling on the fun is the secret to Sober October. Whether that means recruiting a sober squad to join you or sipping on Athletic Brewing’s non-alcoholic beers, there’s plenty of fun to be had all month long. When trying dry means being able to enjoy the citrusy hops in Run Wild IPA, suddenly 31 days of moderation feels like a cinch. So with these five tips, prepare for a month that is easy and enjoyable. Yes, really! Read More

A few months ago, I got food poisoning. The sequence of events that led to my downfall began with a carton of discounted grocery-store sushi purchased and consumed on a Thursday, which led to me waking up a little queasy on a Friday, which devolved into a 12-hour stretch of me vomiting and holding myself in a fetal position, until my legs ached from dehydration. On Saturday the smell of my partner cooking breakfast still made me gag; I sipped water, napped fitfully, and nibbled little golf balls of white rice. But Sunday, glorious Sunday, I awoke to a marvelous lack of pain and fatigue. The brain fog was gone. My skin felt plump with fluids. Enthralled by recovery, I found myself behaving with uncharacteristic serenity. When I dropped and broke a ceramic bowl while unloading the dishwasher, I didn’t curse and freak out. Instead, I swept up the shards with cheer. I wouldn’t sweat the small stuff. I was my normal self again, and it felt sublime. Yet as I relished in my newfound bliss, a foreboding thought gnawed at me: I knew that as the hours passed and the specter of illness retreated, my fresh perspective, too, would fade. So much of my exuberance was defined by absence, the lifting of the burden of aches and puking. It would only be a matter of time until normal felt normal again, and I’d be back to worrying about all the petty minutiae I always worry about. People have different baselines of health, and some might be more or less appreciative of whatever condition they’re in. Even so, humans have long lamented the ephemeral joy of relief. The feeling manifests in all kinds of circumstances: meeting a deadline, passing a test, finishing a marathon. And it can be especially acute in matters of wellness. “Health is not valued, till sickness comes,” wrote the 17th-century British scholar Thomas Fuller. Or as the 19th-century German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer bemoaned: “Just as we do not feel the health of our entire body but only the small place where the shoe pinches, so too we do not think of the totality of our well-functioning affairs, but of some insignificant trifle that annoys us.” So many of us, in other words, are very bad at appreciating good health when we’re fortunate enough to have it. And anyone experiencing this transcendent gratitude is unlikely to hold on to it for long. Indeed, by Monday morning, the afterglow of recovery had worn off; I was engrossed in emails and work again, unaware that just 60 hours prior I could barely sit upright in bed, let alone at my desk. This troubled me. Am I cursed to be like this forever? Or is there anything I can do to change? To some extent, I’m sad to report, the answer might well be no. While certainly some people can have experiences of major illness or injury that change their entire outlook on life, the tendency to revert to forgetfulness seems to run pretty deep in the human psyche. We have limited attentional resources, the UC Davis psychology professor Robert Emmons told me, so in the interest of survival, our brain tends not to waste them focusing on systems that are working well. Instead, our mind evolved to identify threats and problems. Psychologists call this negativity bias: We direct our attention more to what’s wrong than what’s right. If your body’s in check, your brain seems to reason, better to stress about the project that’s overdue or the conflict with your friend than sit around feeling like everything’s fine.    [Read: Does ‘counting your blessings’ work?] A second psychological phenomenon that might work against any enduring joy in recovery from illness is hedonic adaptation, the notion that after positive or negative life events we, basically, get used to our new circumstances and return to a baseline level of subjective well-being. Hedonic adaptation has been used to explain why, in the long term, people who won the lottery were no happier than those who didn’t; and why romantic partners lose passion, excitement, and appreciation for each other over time. Arguably, adaptation need not be seen as any great tragedy. For health, in particular, there’s an element of practicality in the human capacity to exist without fussy attentiveness. This is how we’re supposed to operate. “If our body isn’t causing us problems, it doesn’t actually pay to walk around being grateful all the time. You should be using your mental energy on other things,” Amie Gordon, an associate professor of psychology at the University of Michigan, told me. If we had to sense our clothes on our bodies all day, for example, we’d constantly be distracted, she said. (This is actually a symptom of certain chronic disorders, like fibromyalgia—Lauren Zalewski, a writer who was diagnosed with both fibromyalgia and lupus 22 years ago, told me that it makes her skin sensitive to the touch, as if she constantly has the flu.) All that said, there are real costs to taking health for granted. For one, it can make you less healthy, if as a result you don’t take care of yourself. For another, maintaining some level of appreciation is a good way to avoid becoming an entitled jerk. Throughout the pandemic, for instance, there has been “this language around how the ‘only’ people dying are ‘old people’ or people with pre-existing conditions,” as if these deaths were more acceptable, Emily Taylor, a vice president for the Long-COVID Alliance, a group that advocates for research into post-viral illnesses, told me. Acknowledging that our own health is tenuous—and that certainly, many of us are going to get old—could counter this kind of callousness and encourage people to treat the elderly and those with chronic conditions or disabilities with more respect and kindness, Taylor argued. In my view, there’s something to be gained on an individual level, too. In recent years I’ve seen friends and loved ones deal with life-altering injuries and diagnoses. I know that one’s circumstances can turn on a phone call or a moment of inattention. To be healthy, to have basic needs met—to have life be so “normal” that it’s even a little boring—is a luxury. While I am living in those blessedly unremarkable times, I don’t want my fortune to escape my notice. When things are good, I want to know how good I’ve got it. [Read: How to be thankful when you don’t feel thankful] What I want, really, is to hold on to a sense of gratitude. In the field of psychology, gratitude can be something of a loaded term. Over the past decade or so, articles, podcast episodes, self-help books, research papers, celebrities, and wellness influencers alike have all extolled the benefits of being thankful. (Oprah famously kept a gratitude journal for more than a decade.) At times, gratitude’s popularity has been to its own detriment: The modern-day gratitude movement has been criticized for overstating its potential benefits and pushing a Western, wealthy, and privileged perspective that can seem to ignore the realities of extreme suffering or systemic injustices. It’s also annoying to constantly be told that you should really be more thankful for stuff. But part of the reason gratitude has become such a popular concept is due to bountiful research that does point to genuine emotional upsides. Feeling grateful has been associated with better life satisfaction, an increased sense of well-being, and a greater ability to form and maintain relationships, among other benefits. (The research on gratitude’s effects on physical health is inconclusive.) For me, though, the pull is less scientific and more commonsense anyway: Learning to genuinely appreciate day-to-day boons like having good health, or food in the fridge, seems like being able to tap into a renewable source of contentment. It’s always so easy to find stress in life. Let me remember the things to smile about, too. One way to make the most of gratitude may be to reframe how people tend to think of it. A popular misconception, Emmons told me over email, is that gratitude is a positive emotion that results from something good happening to us. (This might also be part of the reason it can be hard to appreciate conditions like health that for many people remain stable day after day.) Gratitude is an emotion, but it can also be a disposition, something researchers call “trait gratitude.” Some people are more predisposed to feeling thankful than others, by virtue of factors like genetics and personality. But Emmons says this kind of “undentable thankfulness” can also be learned, by developing habits that contribute to more of a persistent, ambient awareness, rather than a conditional reaction to ever-changing circumstances. What does this look like, practically speaking? “I don’t know that we can, with every breath we have every moment, feel grateful that we’re breathing. That’s a pretty tall order,” says Gordon. “But that’s not to say that you don’t build in a moment for it at some point in your day.” If you’re recovering from a cold, for example, you can practice pausing whenever you’re walking out the door to appreciate that your nose isn’t stuffy before just barreling on with life. Another tactic, from Emmons, is to reflect upon your worst moments, such as times you’ve been ill. “Our minds think in terms of counterfactuals,” he said, which are comparisons between the way things are and how they might have been. “When we remember how difficult life used to be and how far we have come, we set up an explicit contrast in our mind, and this contrast is fertile ground for gratefulness.” [Read: Don’t teach your kids to fear the world] You can also think of gratitude as an action, Emmons has written. This hews closer to the historical notion of gratitude, which as far back as the Roman days was associated with ideas like duty and reciprocity—when someone does something kind for us, we’re expected to return the favor, whether that’s thanking them, paying them back, or paying it forward. In that sense, being grateful for your body probably means doing your best to care for it (and, probably, refraining from risky behaviors like rolling the dice on discounted grocery-store sushi). In 2015, Lauren Zalewski, the writer with fibromyalgia, founded an online community that supports people living with chronic pain by helping them to cultivate a grateful mindset. She tells me that before her diagnosis, she took her health for granted and “beat her body up.” Now, she eats vegan, takes supplements, does yoga, stretches, sleeps more, and gets sun regularly—these are the small things she has personally found helpful for managing her constant pain. “So while I am a chronically ill person,” she muses, “I consider myself pretty healthy.”   Looking back on my food-poisoning incident, I think I was primed to ruminate more deeply than usual on the topics of sickness and health. In the past two and a half years, I’ve watched COVID-19 show that anyone can get ill, perhaps seriously so. Now, as the head of the World Health Organization tells us that “the end is in sight” for the pandemic  (and President Joe Biden controversially declares the pandemic over), it’s tempting to imagine that humanity is on the brink of waking up the morning after a hellish sickness. It’s probably delusional to hope that even a global pandemic could prompt some kind of long-term collective mental shift about the impermanence of health, and of life. I didn’t become a radically different person after recovering from puking my guts out a few months ago either. But maybe the simple act of remembering the health we still have in the pandemic’s wake can make a small difference in how we go forward—if not as a society, then at least as individuals. I’m sure I’ll never fully override my tendency to take my body for granted until it’s too late. But for now, each day, I still get the golden opportunity to try. And I’d like to take it. Read More

Sept. 22, 2022 -- Sonia Chavez was on the balcony of her midrise Dallas apartment when the unthinkable happened: As she was filming a thunderstorm with her cellphone, lightning struck her in a flash of blinding light and searing heat that knocked her off her feet. The thunderbolt, which Chavez captured on film, damaged her eyes and left her with some cognitive, speech, and mobility issues. Read More

UnitedHealth Group’s Optum unit Monday completed its proposed $13 billion acquisition of the software and data analytics firm Change Healthcare after successfully fending off a U.S. Justice Department challenge of the deal. Read More

The Planet Mercury against a star background. Close-up After almost a month of chaotic communication mishaps, travel troubles, and never ending restlessness, Mercury retrograde has finally come to an end. On October 2, the Planet of Communication will stop its backwards dance and turn direct in Virgo — but that doesn’t mean the show is over. Narayana Montúfar, senior astrologer for Astrology.com and author of Moon Signs: Unlock Your Inner Luminary Power, puts it bluntly: “The direct turn of Mercury will not be easy,” she tells Refinery29. “In general, Mercury’s ‘stations’ — when it goes either retrograde or direct — are moments of climax when it comes to technology and communication behaving strangely.” Although we’re (more than) ready to kiss Mercury retrograde goodbye, there are still be some twists we must endure before its final bow. “Instead of clarity, this station of Mercury will bring a double amount of confusion because the Planet of Communication will be forming an opposition with Neptune, the Planet of Illusion, as it goes direct,” Montúfar explains. “This is a connection that only happens once a year, and in 2022, it coincides with the end of Mercury retrograde.” This planetary aspect can have us feeling paranoid and bring forth the dramatics, but it’s not all bad (we promise). Montúfar points out that this energy can also give us moments of incredible creativity. Remember, sometimes the most beautiful creations can come from the hardest moments — at least, that’s what we’ll be telling ourselves. Still, there is room to make this astrological happening the positive, forward-thinking vibe we need this month. Iva Naskova, astrologer at the Nebula app, says that Mercury’s direct turn is an ideal time to reflect on your goals before you make take action. “Don’t rush, and pace yourself,” she says. “Instead, allow your mind to process what has been going on during Mercury retrograde period and use your past mistakes and lessons as a stepping stone in the period ahead of you.” Slow and steady always wins the race, anyway. You could say this is the beginning of our retrograde redemption arc. Look out for October 10, when Mercury will retrace its steps and head back into Libra, the sign that it began its retrograde motion in. “At this time, we’ll be reevaluating relationships and the way we connect with each other,” says Lisa Stardust, astrologer and author of The Love Deck. “Finding diplomacy in communication is pivotal.” All Libra wants is for things to be harmonious, and after some major upheaval during the Planet of Communication’s retrograde, we’re due for a bit of steadiness. Reach out to friends you may have accidentally scorned or coworkers you may have missed an email from to make amends and get your connection back on track — let’s put this planetary dance behind us once and for all, shall we? Libra rules marriage and partnerships, and according to psychic astrologer Leslie Hale, we will all feel a little more relaxed, focused on relationships, and willing to compromise to find common ground when Mercury enters the sign of the scales. “This will be a major shift from the worrisome Virgo energy we have experienced over the last several weeks,” she says. Then on October 12, Mercury in Libra will oppose Jupiter in Aries. “This is optimistic and overzealous energy that can have us making bold declarations,” says astrologer Stephanie Campos. “It’s easy to overcommit and bite off more than we can chew.” Mercury opposed Jupiter on both September 2 and September 18, so think back to the conversations you were having during those dates. “This is the grand finale to those conversations — you’re ready to move forward,” she says. Now is the time to ask yourself, what did you learn, if anything? How has your perspective shifted or evolved? Your answers may help clear some haze from this past retrograde. Stardust warns that while this opposition will expand our minds, communication can feel a bit unharmonious. Don’t be afraid to make compromises that aren’t in your favor, or if its too much, to postpone a decision if things feel off — the only thing worse than making a mistake is knowing that you could have prevented it, after all. Although Mercury’s direct motion isn’t as rocky and rigorous as its retrograde, we’ll still be feeling the sting of the planet’s move. But, have no fear — we’ve done it twice already this year, and it’s nothing we haven’t handled before. Break a leg! Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here? Venus In Libra Is The Best Time For Love. Beware Of Petty Gossip While Mars Is In Gemini. This Libra Season, Embrace Your Playful Energy. Read More

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While lutein and zeaxanthin are found in quite a few plants (think leafy greens, orange peppers, avocados, and green peas), as a nation, we’re seriously underconsuming them. As our world becomes more digitized by the day, we need to ensure that we’re getting enough of these beneficial macular pigments to bolster photoprotection and enhance vision longevity.* An easy way to get efficacious doses of lutein and zeaxanthin every day? A premium, plant-powered vision support supplement, like mbg’s eye health+.* Read More

When is the pandemic “over”? In the early days of 2020, we envisioned it ending with the novel coronavirus going away entirely. When this became impossible, we hoped instead for elimination: If enough people got vaccinated, herd immunity might largely stop the virus from spreading. When this too became impossible, we accepted that the virus would still circulate but imagined that it could become, optimistically, like one of the four coronaviruses that cause common colds or, pessimistically, like something more severe, akin to the flu. Instead, COVID has settled into something far worse than the flu. When President Joe Biden declared this week, “The pandemic is over. If you notice, no one’s wearing masks,” the country was still recording more than 400 COVID deaths a day—more than triple the average number from flu. This shifting of goal posts is, in part, a reckoning with the biological reality of COVID. The virus that came out of Wuhan, China, in 2019 was already so good at spreading—including from people without symptoms—that eradication probably never stood a chance once COVID took off internationally. “I don’t think that was ever really practically possible,” says Stephen Morse, an epidemiologist at Columbia. In time, it also became clear that immunity to COVID is simply not durable enough for elimination through herd immunity. The virus evolves too rapidly, and our own immunity to COVID infection fades too quickly—as it does with other respiratory viruses—even as immunity against severe disease tends to persist. (The elderly who mount weaker immune responses remain the most vulnerable: 88 percent of COVID deaths so far in September have been in people over 65.) With a public weary of pandemic measures and a government reluctant to push them, the situation seems unlikely to improve anytime soon. Trevor Bedford, a virologist at the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center, estimates that COVID will continue to exact a death toll of 100,000 Americans a year in the near future. This too is approximately three times that of a typical flu year. I keep returning to the flu because, back in early 2021, with vaccine excitement still fresh in the air, several experts told my colleague Alexis Madrigal that a reasonable threshold for lifting COVID restrictions was 100 deaths a day, roughly on par with flu. We largely tolerate, the thinking went, the risk of flu without major disruptions to our lives. Since then, widespread immunity, better treatments, and the less virulent Omicron variant have together pushed the risk of COVID to individuals down to a flu-like level. But across the whole population, COVID is still killing many times more people than influenza is, because it is still sickening so many more people. Bedford told me he estimates that Omicron has infected 80 percent of Americans. Going forward, COVID might continue to infect 50 percent of the population every year, even without another Omicron-like leap in evolution. In contrast, flu sickens an estimated 10 to 20 percent of Americans a year. These are estimates, because lack of testing hampers accurate case counts for both diseases, but COVID’s higher death toll is a function of higher transmission. The tens of thousands of recorded cases—likely hundreds of thousands of actual cases every day—also add to the burden of long COVID. The challenge of driving down COVID transmission has also become clearer with time. In early 2021, the initially spectacular vaccine-efficacy data bolstered optimism that vaccination could significantly dampen transmission. Breakthrough cases were downplayed as very rare. And they were—at first. But immunity to infection is not durable against common respiratory viruses. Flu, the four common-cold coronaviruses, respiratory syncytial virus (RSV), and others all reinfect us over and over again. The same proved true with COVID. “Right at the beginning, we should have made that very clear. When you saw 95 percent against mild disease, with the trials done in December 2020, we should have said right then this is not going to last,” says Paul Offit, the director of the Vaccine Education Center at Children's Hospital of Philadelphia. Even vaccinating the whole world would not eliminate COVID transmission. This coronavirus has also proved a wilier opponent than expected. Despite a relatively slow rate of mutation at the beginning of the pandemic, it soon evolved into variants that are more inherently contagious and better at evading immunity. With each major wave, “the virus has only gotten more transmissible,” says Ruth Karron, a vaccine researcher at Johns Hopkins. The coronavirus cannot keep becoming more transmissible forever, but it can keep changing to evade our immunity essentially forever. Its rate of evolution is much higher than that of other common-cold coronaviruses. It’s higher than that of even H3N2 flu—the most troublesome and fastest-evolving of the influenza viruses. Omicron, according to Bedford, is the equivalent of five years of H3N2 evolution, and its subvariants are still outpacing H3N2’s usual rate. We don’t know how often Omicron-like events will happen. COVID’s rate of change may eventually slow down when the virus is no longer novel in humans, or it may surprise us again. In the past, flu pandemics “ended” after the virus swept through so much of the population that it could no longer cause huge waves. But the pandemic virus did not disappear; it became the new seasonal-flu virus. The 1968 H3N2 pandemic, for example, seeded the H3N2 flu that still sickens people today. “I suspect it’s probably caused even more morbidity and mortality in all those years since 1968,” Morse says. The pandemic ended, but the virus continued killing people. Ironically, H3N2 did go away during the coronavirus pandemic. Measures such as social distancing and masking managed to almost entirely eliminate the flu. (It has not disappeared entirely, though, and may be back in full force this winter.) Cases of other respiratory viruses, such as RSV, also plummeted. Experts hoped that this would show Americans a new normal, where we don’t simply tolerate the flu and other respiratory illnesses every winter. Instead, the country is moving toward a new normal where COVID is also something we tolerate every year. In the same breath that President Biden said, “The pandemic is over,” he went on to say, “We still have a problem with COVID. We’re still doing a lot of work on it.” You might see this as a contradiction, or you might see it as how we deal with every other disease—an attempt at normalizing COVID, if you will. The government doesn’t treat flu, cancer, heart disease, tuberculosis, hepatitis C, etc., as national emergencies that disrupt everyday life, even as the work continues on preventing and treating them. The U.S.’s COVID strategy certainly seems to be going in that direction. Broad restrictions such as mask mandates are out of the question. Interventions targeted at those most vulnerable to severe disease exist, but they aren’t getting much fanfare. This fall’s COVID-booster campaign has been muted. Treatments such as bebtelovimab and Evusheld remain on shelves underpublicized and underused. At the same time, hundreds of Americans are still dying of COVID every day and will likely continue to die of COVID every day. A cumulative annual toll of 100,000 deaths a year would still make COVID a top-10 cause of death, ahead of any other infectious disease. When the first 100,000 Americans died of COVID, in spring 2020, newspapers memorialized the grim milestone. The New York Times devoted its entire front page to chronicling the lives lost to COVID. It might have been hard to imagine, back in 2020, that the U.S. would come to accept 100,000 people dying of COVID every year. Whether or not that means the pandemic is over, the second part of the president’s statement is harder to argue with: COVID is and will remain a problem. Read More

Sept. 21, 2022 – President Joe Biden says the pandemic is over. The World Health Organization says the end is in sight. Many of us would rather talk about almost anything else, and even New York City has dropped most of its COVID protocols. Biden’s claim (made to reporter Scott Pelley on Sunday on 60 Minutes) has caused the debate over COVID-19 to explode yet again, even though he’s twice now tried to soften it. It has roiled the already divided public, fueled extensive coverage on television news, and led pundits to take sides. Read More

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Over the past few years, I’ve noticed my gut health has been in less than stellar shape. No matter what I eat, I’m consistently gassy and bloated, my heartburn is frequent, my bowel movements are irregular, and my acid reflux (which stings like hell) is always creeping up my throat. Worst of all, I cannot stop burping. And it’s not just a normal burp here and there after a sip of soda — it’s a series of full-on croaks, and it happens from the moment I wake until I’m off to bed. While I hope to schedule a comprehensive microbiome test with my local gastroenterologist soon, I’ve been looking to probiotics — specifically Ritual‘s best-selling Synbiotic+ capsules — for relief. According to the brand, Synbiotic+ is the most successful product launch to date since it was introduced in April 2022. That’s no surprise, considering it was developed after 98% of Ritual customers specifically requested a product to help support gut and digestive health. Surely, something is going on with the gut! Mike Hoaglin, MD, medical director for the 24/7 telemedicine service DrHouse, tells me he’s also observed an uptick in gut health issues over the past few years, particularly since the onset of the pandemic. “The gut and the brain are intimately connected and can communicate through signaling through the nervous system and from chemicals in the blood,” says Dr. Hoaglin. It is thought that around 95% of serotonin — a neurotransmitter that plays a key role in regulating mood, among other things — is produced in the gut, he adds. “The parasympathetic nervous system is associated with ‘resting and digesting.’ It allows your gut to move things forward in a coordinated fashion, whereas the sympathetic nervous system is all about ‘flight or flight.’ In fight or flight, your gut gets shut down, as energy is needed elsewhere. This is partly why you get indigestion when you’re anxious.” Ritual Synbiotic+, $50 Okay, so maybe there’s some underlying anxiety going on with my body. Or maybe it’s that I’m not getting enough fiber in my current diet. Luckily, probiotics — capsules containing live bacteria and yeasts — have been known to aid with digestion. They’re known to be a safe, affordable, and effective over-the-counter solution when taken correctly and as directed. Synbiotic+, though, is more than a probiotic, and that’s because it’s a three-in-one: It’s a prebiotic, probiotic, and postbiotic. Katerina Schneider, founder and CEO of Ritual, tells me it took the brand over four years to develop Synbiotic+, a “traceable biotic with 11 billion CFUs (colony forming units) of probiotics for digestive support.” The pills consist of “two of the world’s most clinically studied bacterial strains, LGG and BB-12.” (Ritual does note that its statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration, and that this product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any disease.) The pill itself is a marvel to look at: It’s a minicapsule nestled inside a normal-size capsule, and it’s specifically designed to be delayed-release, so that it reaches the colon, and not the stomach, for optimal absorption. Swallowing is also a breeze: There’s a mint-infused tab in every moisture-controlled bottle, so it leaves a fresh mouthfeel after every dose. Refrigeration of the pills is not required. So, how did my one-month trial of Synbiotic+ go? First, two caveats: I have ongoing, existing gut health issues, and I very well know that I cannot expect nor rely on probiotic supplements alone to get my body back on track. Also, I can only speak to my own experiences — please consult a medical professional for what treatments or supplements may be right for you. That said, it took a couple of weeks of trial and error to find a decent rhythm for Synbiotic+ to work with my body. My nonscientific measure of “is it working?” includes if my bowel movements are regular, if I’m feeling more energized and less sluggish, and if my burping is under better control. I can say that at the end of 30 days of taking Synbiotic+ I’ve become far more regular than before. My energy levels more or less have been consistent (I’m an active person anyway, and I’ve been a fan of Ritual’s other energy-boosting product, the Daily Shake 18+ protein powder, for some time because it helps with post-workout recovery). My burps, unfortunately, remain (maybe I’m just part frog). For me, I started seeing results way later in the month, and I don’t know if this is a placebo effect, but I felt like taking Synbiotic+ in the evenings before bed rather than first thing in the morning was more effective for me. However, Schneider tells me Synbiotic+ can be taken morning or night, with or without food, so the time of day you decide to take it is totally up to you. Ritual Synbiotic+, $50 Also, what does it even mean to take a three-in-one capsule? I asked Dr. Hoaglin about his stance on probiotics, prebiotics, and postbiotics. All three types are beneficial and have slightly different jobs. “Prebiotics are typically considered the material that commensal bacteria (the bugs currently living in our gut) ‘eat’ or ferment into other helpful materials like short-chain fatty acids (also called postbiotics),” he says. Probiotics, Dr. Hoaglin says, are live microorganisms that “have beneficial effects on immunity, digestion, GI symptoms, and inflammation” — plus, it’s the most common biotic you can purchase at any pharmacy or drug store. The research on postbiotics isn’t as extensive as the other two biotics, but that doesn’t mean they are ineffective or bad: “[They’re] shown to nourish the gut wall and help the liver control blood sugar.” Given that Synbiotic+ contains all three biotics, I feel like I’m getting a full platter of bacteria goodness. I appreciate that Ritual conducts extensive research and testing — which Schneider tells me is in accordance with the gold-standard United States Pharmacopeia guidelines for measuring CFUs — so I’ve felt nothing but confident in giving Synbiotic+ a shot. The TL;DR version of the testing process touches upon two studies: The first study showed that the delayed-release pill actually does deliver bacteria to the colon, allowing for optimal absorption. The second found that “Synbiotic+ was shown to significantly increase the growth of beneficial bacteria along with microbial diversity,” says Schneider. If you’re feeling skeptical about any of this, the best course of action is to speak to a medical professional about whatever gut health concerns you have. “There are certainly serious gastrointestinal issues that can be treated medically,” says Dr. Hoaglin, who also advises that your doctor can take a closer look into your diet and lifestyle and run appropriate lab tests to rule out any medical conditions. If you do not have a doctor at the moment, you can access one through DrHouse’s health care promotion, which offers free doctor appointments through October 31. But if, like me, you are in steady need of a gentle capsule that can help aid in your daily digestive journey, Ritual’s Synbiotic+ is a “gut instinct” product I certainly recommend. At Refinery29, we’re here to help you navigate this overwhelming world of stuff. All of our market picks are independently selected and curated by the editorial team. All product details reflect the price and availability at the time of publication. If you buy or click on something we link to on our site, Refinery29 may earn commission. Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here? Postbiotics: What They Are & How To Boost Them. What's The Deal With Prebiotics? 5 Ways To Improve Your Gut Health. Read More

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Picture this: You’re at the dentist for your checkup. You think your pearly whites are perfect since you brush two times a day with a quality toothpaste, but then the dentist asks, “Have you been flossing?” If you’re like me, you probably lie through your teeth (literally). However, you may want to think twice about skipping over the floss during your brushing routine the next time. It may cause problems with your teeth that could be easily prevented just by adding a little extra time to your dental hygiene routine every day. Read More