Kiki's Memos

Author: Kiki Sarzetaki

  • Castor Oil Evening Ritual

    Last night, I tried something I’ve been curious about for a while. I placed a castor oil pack over my liver, then warmed a hot rice pack and set it on top. I added a towel and a light blanket in between so I wouldn’t get burned. Forty minutes later, I removed the pack and massaged the remaining oil clockwise around my tummy, nudging digestion along and feeling a subtle shift.

    Castor oil comes from castor beans. Thick, sticky, and slightly odd-smelling, it’s been used for centuries in wellness. One reason it’s special is ricinoleic acid, a compound that slightly penetrates the skin and stimulates circulation and lymphatic flow, supporting the liver indirectly. The warmth, the pressure, and the oil together encourage relaxation, improve circulation, and help digestion move more smoothly. You could use another oil, like olive oil, but castor oil’s stickiness and traditional use make it ideal for this kind of pack.

    Internally, castor oil is a strong stimulant laxative, helping relieve constipation quickly, though it should be used sparingly. Olive oil is gentler, good for daily digestion, but won’t have the same immediate effect. Externally, castor oil can also nourish the skin and hair, though other oils may be easier for regular hair care.

    Some reactions are normal: mild cramping, warmth at the application site, or slight fatigue as the body responds. For me, it felt comforting and grounding. Lying with a warm pack, breathing deeply, noticing my body, feeling subtle movements — it reminds me that wellness can be simple. Small, intentional acts like this connect me to my body in ways I often forget.

  • The Night I Found Judo

    July 12th, 2016. Around 10:30 p.m., I was driving home through the dark village of Manna, Abby in the car.

    In the middle of the road, I saw something. A tiny mass. A small cat, lying in blood. I slowed, stopped, and gently moved it to the curb. It was breathing, barely, but alive.

    A month had passed since my dad died, and the sight of suffering hit close to home. I couldn’t leave it there. I had a piece of cardboard in the car, so I carefully lifted the kitten into the car. Abby sniffed curiously the whole way home. My heart was heavy, but at least it would die somewhere warm.

    At home, I made a small bed with a box, an old blanket, and a towel. I decided: if it survived the night, I would take it to the vet.

    Morning came. It was still breathing. I rushed it to the vet and asked if there was any chance of a normal life. He stabilized the kitten, repaired a broken jaw, and started fluids. Later, he warned me it might be blind, unresponsive to light.

    I had to return to Athens for my dad’s 40-day memorial, so I left the kitten in care, knowing it needed the vet more than me. When I returned to Syros, I picked up a skinny little orange male, roughly three months old, with a slightly crooked jaw. Abby instantly loved him.

    I named him first Roulis, after my dad, then Yoda, and finally Judo, after watching a judo match on TV while he curled up next to me, staring at the screen as if curiously following the action.

    He grew into a fully fluffy, sensitive, shy, and loving cat. He can see — maybe not perfectly, sometimes missing his jumps — but he navigates his safe home like any other cat.

    We took him back to Syros a few times, but the outdoors stressed him. Athens became his sanctuary. He gets along wonderfully with Abby and Olive, Irini’s Cavalier, and we have photos of them napping together.

    Funny enough, a few days after Judo came home, someone dropped off another tiny kitten — tri-colored this time. She became Nina’s cat Chanel.

  • Vertigo, Not the Movie

    The New Year started spinning. Sorry—the room started spinning for a few seconds. I sat up too quickly in bed, and suddenly the world was off balance. It happened again a month ago but went away on its own. This time, it made me feel really sick and unable to function.

    It’s called Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo (BPPV). Tiny crystals in the inner ear, called otoconia, shift when you roll, turn, or sit up. They’re made of calcium carbonate — literally crystals — but very small, fragile, and grain‑like, almost like fine sand. Normally, they help your body sense movement and gravity. When they dislodge into the semicircular canals of the ear, they trigger that sudden whoosh of spinning. 

    Some patterns show up again and again with recurrences of BPPV. Low or fluctuating vitamin D — which plays a role in how calcium is regulated in the ear — seems to be linked to more frequent episodes, and supplementing it may reduce how often it comes back.  Reduced bone density or mild osteoporosis, where the body’s calcium metabolism is altered, also appears more often in people with recurrent BPPV.  There’s even evidence that microinflammation in the inner ear and general metabolic shifts that affect how calcium is used in the body may contribute — not just simple head movements. 

    There’s a simple fix if done correctly: the Epley maneuver, a sequence of head and body movements, that often helps put the crystals back where they belong. This is what I did and it seemed to work. You may have to repeat it once a day for a few days. Balance exercises, staying hydrated, and ensuring your body has the nutrients it needs can help too. Even after the crystals are back in place, it may take a few more days of mild dizziness before you feel fully normal.

    It’s brief, it’s unnerving, but it’s manageable. Tiny things inside our bodies can make the world feel upside down for a moment.

    And as the first day of the year, maybe that’s a thought to take: beginnings can feel spinning and unsteady. Balance requires patience, but it always returns.

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