Oh, Food! How wonderful and yet terrible you are!
My experiment with the GAPS Diet starts tomorrow.
In other words, I'm going to gorge on gluten-free pizza and gluten-free carrot cake, tonight.
Fortunately, after rereading the GAPS Diet's instructions, I discovered that the baby food intro portion is really mostly for people who have horrendous gut issues. I have some gut issues, but I wouldn't exactly put them in the realm of horrendous.
So I get to skip the first two weeks (hooray!) and jump straight into juices, soups, roasted or boiled meats, and baked goods.
Baked. Goods.
The baked goods are mostly made with nut flours, so almond flour (aka almond meal), or walnut flour, or whatever you prefer. Seeing as Whole Foods had almond flour in their bulk foods section, I went with almond flour, because forget having to buy a food processor - in addition to the juicer! - in order to make my own almond flour.
Ain't happenin'.
I did, however, end up buying a better roasting pan.
A couple of years ago, my sister gave me a smallish roasting pan from one of Houston's myriad restaurant supply stores. It served its purpose faithfully until...
Well, until the GAPS Guru forbade GAPS dieters from using aluminum if they can help it. This is particularly the case if the aluminum cookware in question has scratches, as that allows the aluminum to get into your food, bada boom, bada bing: cancer.
Or something like that. I'm still not convinced it's not some sort of hoodoo, but that's just me and my innate skepticism.
Unfortunately, if you don't want an aluminum roasting pan or a roasting pan covered in Teflon (because: cancer!), you have to buy either a stainless steel roasting pan or a copper one.
Have you seen the commodity prices for copper lately?
Ain't happenin'. (again)
Unfortunately, stainless steel ones are also tres cher. Or trop cher. Or something French meaning "too da*ned expensive." Nevertheless, that's what I got. I went to Williams-Sonoma, and I bought myself a smallish roasting pan to match my stainless steel saute and sauce pans.
And it was on sale. And it came with a *free* roasting rack. And it was only my second trip of the day to W-S.
W-S may be about to supplant Container Store in my affections.
Nah.
Ain't happenin',
Friday, January 4, 2013
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Preparing for the Produce Onslaught
After the New Year, I will begin something called the GAPS Diet. (GAPS = Gut and Psychology Syndrome). For the first month or so, I'll subsist on meat and seafood broths and soups made with meat and seafood broths. After about the third week, I'll be allowed to add in some meat, so long as it isn't barbecued or fried. Roasted or boiled is the only way to go, apparently.
Also, I'll be drinking juices, because they're super-important in making sure I get all of my nutrients, and they also help with detoxification. Needless to say, these aren't the Welch's Grape Juice variety of juice. No, these are serious, kale- and spinach-based juices meant to alkalize your body, which apparently removes toxins lurking in your liver.
Lurking... in... your... liver...
Right.
My kitchen has a whopping 12 square feet of counter space, which probably sounds like a lot, but isn't. When you account for the fact that I have hardly any undercounter storage (three narrow drawers and two cabinets with doors, plus a ridiculously tiny and inefficient pantry), and so I have to store my kitchen towels, utensils, and blender on the countertop, it's reduced down to about 2 square feet of prep space.
I am not exaggerating.
In order to do the GAPS Diet properly, I have to make my own juices, and NOT in a blender, because the first two weeks requires a reduction in fiber to give your intestines time to heal. Or something. So I have to get a juicer.
Do you have any idea how expensive juicers can be? Particularly the kind that are required to handle leafy greens?
They're expensive. The *best* ones are in the $250+ range.
I'm a grad student. $250 juicers are not an option, at this point in my life. And they're also enormous.
So I bought a smaller juicer - $99, hooray! - that was recommended by a few "juicing gurus" as a good starter model. Hopefully, they made good recommendations.
I've also been researching juice recipes. Specifically, juice recipes that fall in the "Green Drink" category. Some of them have names like "Mean Green Drink," "Mean Green Drink #2," and "Mean Green Drink #3," because f**k creativity, amirite?
But then there are those that tell you exactly what their purpose is - and their purpose reaches beyond being mean and green. They have names like "The Liver Scrubber" and "Celery Detox," neither of which conjures happy mental images.
Well, not exactly "happy" mental images... But boy, are they ever mental images!
I've also purchased a hand-held immersion mixer-thingy, because they're easier to use than pouring everything into a blender and dealing with all of that nonsense.
So, in the future - the very near future - I will be living on a liquid food diet. Only for a couple of weeks, though, and then I get to move on to mushy over-cooked vegetables. Hooray! Also, some overcooked fruit, too, which should be a little better-tasting, I hope...
So, liquid foods. Well-done meat and seafood. Mushy veggies (I intend to just puree them and pretend I'm a 12-month-old again).
... ... ... ...
Did I mention I get to drink ginger tea?
Also, I'll be drinking juices, because they're super-important in making sure I get all of my nutrients, and they also help with detoxification. Needless to say, these aren't the Welch's Grape Juice variety of juice. No, these are serious, kale- and spinach-based juices meant to alkalize your body, which apparently removes toxins lurking in your liver.
Lurking... in... your... liver...
Right.
My kitchen has a whopping 12 square feet of counter space, which probably sounds like a lot, but isn't. When you account for the fact that I have hardly any undercounter storage (three narrow drawers and two cabinets with doors, plus a ridiculously tiny and inefficient pantry), and so I have to store my kitchen towels, utensils, and blender on the countertop, it's reduced down to about 2 square feet of prep space.
I am not exaggerating.
In order to do the GAPS Diet properly, I have to make my own juices, and NOT in a blender, because the first two weeks requires a reduction in fiber to give your intestines time to heal. Or something. So I have to get a juicer.
Do you have any idea how expensive juicers can be? Particularly the kind that are required to handle leafy greens?
They're expensive. The *best* ones are in the $250+ range.
I'm a grad student. $250 juicers are not an option, at this point in my life. And they're also enormous.
So I bought a smaller juicer - $99, hooray! - that was recommended by a few "juicing gurus" as a good starter model. Hopefully, they made good recommendations.
I've also been researching juice recipes. Specifically, juice recipes that fall in the "Green Drink" category. Some of them have names like "Mean Green Drink," "Mean Green Drink #2," and "Mean Green Drink #3," because f**k creativity, amirite?
But then there are those that tell you exactly what their purpose is - and their purpose reaches beyond being mean and green. They have names like "The Liver Scrubber" and "Celery Detox," neither of which conjures happy mental images.
+
Well, not exactly "happy" mental images... But boy, are they ever mental images!
I've also purchased a hand-held immersion mixer-thingy, because they're easier to use than pouring everything into a blender and dealing with all of that nonsense.
So, in the future - the very near future - I will be living on a liquid food diet. Only for a couple of weeks, though, and then I get to move on to mushy over-cooked vegetables. Hooray! Also, some overcooked fruit, too, which should be a little better-tasting, I hope...
So, liquid foods. Well-done meat and seafood. Mushy veggies (I intend to just puree them and pretend I'm a 12-month-old again).
... ... ... ...
Did I mention I get to drink ginger tea?
Monday, December 17, 2012
High Heeled Pain in the... Foot
Back in the day, I wore high heels to work every day.
"The day" was in 2007-2008, in case you didn't know.
So, like I said: high heels every day.
At the time, I refused to wear any heel lower than 3-inches, because lower heels were for LOSERS and people with stiff hips.
Then, I worked for Oldsmobile for a time, and I rarely wore heels because of impromptu visits to the construction site, etc. My collection of 4-5 inch heels languished in my closet during this time, getting dusty and going out of style.
Okay, not really, because I'm me, and I store shoes in clear plastic boxes so they won't get dusty, and I tend to buy pretty classic silhouettes, so there's that.
I have a quasi-job-interview on this upcoming Wednesday, and none of the heels in my closet were:
a) appropriate
b) appropriate
c) fitting (as in, they fall off when I walk, for some unknown reason).
I took myself to DSW to see if I could find some replacements.
Nope. All open-toe or stripper platforms, or some combination thereof. The only decent ones I saw had low heels, in the 2-inch heel height range.
So then I went to Nordstrom, and I found a pair of heels that I tried on. They were a stunning 4-inch heel, black patent leather with an asymmetrical vamp that would make you cry tears of joy.
They didn't fit.
Hmmm...
The shoe salesman then brought me another pair, with a lower 3-inch heel, and more padding on the foot-bed. They were better, but still not great, even with all of the padding. Also, they were not patent leather, and I wanted patent leather, gosh-darnit.
A third pair was trotted out. I'd seen them when I was wandering around, but they had a measly little 2-inch heel on them, and I couldn't bring myself to ask the salesman to bring them out. But he did, anyways, and so I put them on with those little footlet things that are just cheap pantyhose with a staple at one end.
They were the most amazingly comfortable shoes I've ever worn in my life. Okay, no, that's not true, but they beat the heck out of the 4-inch heels.
I laughed as I told the salesman I'd take them. "I guess I can't hack it in 4-inch heels, anymore."
So, yeah.
I turned 30 back in October, but I didn't really feel 30.
Until yesterday, that is. And now I totally feel 30.
Time to get a couple of yappy dogs and a subscription to Martha Stewart Living, I guess.
"The day" was in 2007-2008, in case you didn't know.
So, like I said: high heels every day.
At the time, I refused to wear any heel lower than 3-inches, because lower heels were for LOSERS and people with stiff hips.
Then, I worked for Oldsmobile for a time, and I rarely wore heels because of impromptu visits to the construction site, etc. My collection of 4-5 inch heels languished in my closet during this time, getting dusty and going out of style.
Okay, not really, because I'm me, and I store shoes in clear plastic boxes so they won't get dusty, and I tend to buy pretty classic silhouettes, so there's that.
I have a quasi-job-interview on this upcoming Wednesday, and none of the heels in my closet were:
a) appropriate
b) appropriate
c) fitting (as in, they fall off when I walk, for some unknown reason).
I took myself to DSW to see if I could find some replacements.
Nope. All open-toe or stripper platforms, or some combination thereof. The only decent ones I saw had low heels, in the 2-inch heel height range.
 |
| Stripper platforms |
So then I went to Nordstrom, and I found a pair of heels that I tried on. They were a stunning 4-inch heel, black patent leather with an asymmetrical vamp that would make you cry tears of joy.
They didn't fit.
Hmmm...
The shoe salesman then brought me another pair, with a lower 3-inch heel, and more padding on the foot-bed. They were better, but still not great, even with all of the padding. Also, they were not patent leather, and I wanted patent leather, gosh-darnit.
A third pair was trotted out. I'd seen them when I was wandering around, but they had a measly little 2-inch heel on them, and I couldn't bring myself to ask the salesman to bring them out. But he did, anyways, and so I put them on with those little footlet things that are just cheap pantyhose with a staple at one end.
They were the most amazingly comfortable shoes I've ever worn in my life. Okay, no, that's not true, but they beat the heck out of the 4-inch heels.
I laughed as I told the salesman I'd take them. "I guess I can't hack it in 4-inch heels, anymore."
So, yeah.
I turned 30 back in October, but I didn't really feel 30.
Until yesterday, that is. And now I totally feel 30.
Time to get a couple of yappy dogs and a subscription to Martha Stewart Living, I guess.
Oh, wait. I already subscribe to Living.
Dammit.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
What the Last Post Was Intended to be About
And yes, I am entirely aware that I ended the title of this post with a preposition, but you can all put on your big-girl panties and deal with it. Or, you know, your big-boy BVDs, if you're a fella. Or boxers, if that's your preference.
ANYHOO.
The last post I wrote wasn't supposed to get into the realm of I'm-going-to-eat-broth-and-sauerkraut-for-months so much. I'm going to claim, for the record, that the sauerkraut hi-jacked the post.
Sauerkraut has a tendency to do that, you know.
The last post was really supposed to be about the current Gentleman Caller.
*record scratch* *Kid'N'Play make funny faces at the camera*
How did I intend to get from my insane food intolerances to the Gentleman Caller?
It's a somewhat circuitous route.
We've been dating for... a few months? Maybe three months? Or four of them?
I'm not really sure, because I'm terrible with dates. With the exception of immediate family, I would not remember any of my friends' birthdays without Facebook, sad to say. And when it comes to anniversaries, I'm hopeless (except for my parents' and my sister's and BIL's).
So, a while. We've been dating for a while.
And we almost didn't start, because THIS GAL had to reschedule the first two dates due to migraines. When he seemed okay with rescheduling, I realized that either:
1) He was desperate for a date
2) I am AMAZING.
I've decided to go with option "2" (and he encouraged me to think as much when I brought it up teasingly the other day).
Granted, we had spoken on the phone multiple times - and at length - before we were supposed to go on our dates. I could very well have seen him deciding that maybe I'd changed my mind and abandoning the whole idea of going out with me, though, rather than continuing to reschedule dates.
And, yeah, I've had to reschedule some since that time, too, because migraines - like s**t - happen.
Here's the thing: we most often go out to eat for our dates, and that can be tricky for me. I have yet to have to come up with a location for a date, though, because he always checks the restaurants' menus to make sure there are gluten-free choices for me. And if there aren't any explicitly gluten-free options for me, he calls the restaurant to see what they have.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but that seems to me to be a sign of someone who might be worth keeping around for a while.
And that's how my last post about diet-craziness was supposed to segue into a discussion of the current Gentleman Caller. Because I told him about the crazy diet I'm starting in January, and that I'll probably be even more restricted as to what I can eat, for a while, and his response was: "I guess I'd better get used to eating broth, then. That, and hiding hamburgers in my pockets."
Sounds like a pretty good attitude to take, if you ask me.
ANYHOO.
The last post I wrote wasn't supposed to get into the realm of I'm-going-to-eat-broth-and-sauerkraut-for-months so much. I'm going to claim, for the record, that the sauerkraut hi-jacked the post.
Sauerkraut has a tendency to do that, you know.
The last post was really supposed to be about the current Gentleman Caller.
*record scratch* *Kid'N'Play make funny faces at the camera*
How did I intend to get from my insane food intolerances to the Gentleman Caller?
It's a somewhat circuitous route.
We've been dating for... a few months? Maybe three months? Or four of them?
I'm not really sure, because I'm terrible with dates. With the exception of immediate family, I would not remember any of my friends' birthdays without Facebook, sad to say. And when it comes to anniversaries, I'm hopeless (except for my parents' and my sister's and BIL's).
So, a while. We've been dating for a while.
And we almost didn't start, because THIS GAL had to reschedule the first two dates due to migraines. When he seemed okay with rescheduling, I realized that either:
1) He was desperate for a date
2) I am AMAZING.
I've decided to go with option "2" (and he encouraged me to think as much when I brought it up teasingly the other day).
Granted, we had spoken on the phone multiple times - and at length - before we were supposed to go on our dates. I could very well have seen him deciding that maybe I'd changed my mind and abandoning the whole idea of going out with me, though, rather than continuing to reschedule dates.
And, yeah, I've had to reschedule some since that time, too, because migraines - like s**t - happen.
Here's the thing: we most often go out to eat for our dates, and that can be tricky for me. I have yet to have to come up with a location for a date, though, because he always checks the restaurants' menus to make sure there are gluten-free choices for me. And if there aren't any explicitly gluten-free options for me, he calls the restaurant to see what they have.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but that seems to me to be a sign of someone who might be worth keeping around for a while.
And that's how my last post about diet-craziness was supposed to segue into a discussion of the current Gentleman Caller. Because I told him about the crazy diet I'm starting in January, and that I'll probably be even more restricted as to what I can eat, for a while, and his response was: "I guess I'd better get used to eating broth, then. That, and hiding hamburgers in my pockets."
Sounds like a pretty good attitude to take, if you ask me.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
The End is Near
The end of the semester, at any rate.
I have a mid-thesis presentation on December 3 - where I and my cohorts will present our legal-according-to-the-UN-but-maybe-the-USA-won't-like-it thesis projects. Mine is a quasi-legal casino/resort on a floating platform in the Pacific.
Now, I know you're all thinking, "But this is academic work! It should be serious! You should be coming up with ways to save whales or kittens or petroleum or something!"
At first, I had the same mindset. And then I realized that I would probably never have the opportunity to design a quasi-legal casino/resort straight out of a bad Kevin Costner flick again. (Disclaimer: I actually enjoyed the terribleness that was Waterworld, and it's part of the reason I wanted to do a crazy floating project)
After that, I just have a take-home exam, and then I'm finished for the semester. I will have a nice long break before I have to officially put my nose to the grindstone, once more.
What will I do during my winter break?
I will enjoy eating "normal" food. Not normal as in "it contains gluten and milk products," but normal as in "it's not on a very strict diet I'm starting after January 1st because my immune system is in constant overdrive."
Yup, more food problems.
As of this writing, my body doesn't deal well with
1. Gluten
2. Dairy
3. Eggs
4. Nightshades (aka tomatoes, tomatillos, and other tom---os)
According to one theory, it's because my gut bacteria aren't in their proper ratios, so I can't digest the food properly, so my immune system says, "HEY-O!" and I feel like ick.
I haven't read any other sane-sounding theories to explain it, and my doctors are at a loss as to what is going on. I went to a fracking rheumatologist who essentially said, "I have no idea. Figure it out on your own."
I should have asked for a refund. I did get a nice ceramic mug, though...
So I've been reading all sorts of interesting blogs - namely this one and this one. And it was on the first blog that I first encountered discussions of the GAPS Diet.
GAPS stands for "Gut and Psychology," which is an awful name, but it is what it is.
From what I understand, there's a lot of broth involved, and pickled vegetables, and probiotics, and eventually, your body will get back to near normal.
I think we all know I'll never really be normal normal.
I'm currently stock-piling chicken carcasses in my freezer in preparation for the coming tsunami of broth I'll be making.
And, seriously, how normal can a chicken-carcass-hoarder be?
I have a mid-thesis presentation on December 3 - where I and my cohorts will present our legal-according-to-the-UN-but-maybe-the-USA-won't-like-it thesis projects. Mine is a quasi-legal casino/resort on a floating platform in the Pacific.
Now, I know you're all thinking, "But this is academic work! It should be serious! You should be coming up with ways to save whales or kittens or petroleum or something!"
At first, I had the same mindset. And then I realized that I would probably never have the opportunity to design a quasi-legal casino/resort straight out of a bad Kevin Costner flick again. (Disclaimer: I actually enjoyed the terribleness that was Waterworld, and it's part of the reason I wanted to do a crazy floating project)
After that, I just have a take-home exam, and then I'm finished for the semester. I will have a nice long break before I have to officially put my nose to the grindstone, once more.
What will I do during my winter break?
I will enjoy eating "normal" food. Not normal as in "it contains gluten and milk products," but normal as in "it's not on a very strict diet I'm starting after January 1st because my immune system is in constant overdrive."
Yup, more food problems.
As of this writing, my body doesn't deal well with
1. Gluten
2. Dairy
3. Eggs
4. Nightshades (aka tomatoes, tomatillos, and other tom---os)
According to one theory, it's because my gut bacteria aren't in their proper ratios, so I can't digest the food properly, so my immune system says, "HEY-O!" and I feel like ick.
I haven't read any other sane-sounding theories to explain it, and my doctors are at a loss as to what is going on. I went to a fracking rheumatologist who essentially said, "I have no idea. Figure it out on your own."
I should have asked for a refund. I did get a nice ceramic mug, though...
So I've been reading all sorts of interesting blogs - namely this one and this one. And it was on the first blog that I first encountered discussions of the GAPS Diet.
GAPS stands for "Gut and Psychology," which is an awful name, but it is what it is.
From what I understand, there's a lot of broth involved, and pickled vegetables, and probiotics, and eventually, your body will get back to near normal.
I think we all know I'll never really be normal normal.
I'm currently stock-piling chicken carcasses in my freezer in preparation for the coming tsunami of broth I'll be making.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Beauty From Pain
I'm kind of out of luck insofar as my health, goes.
Possibly an understatement, but we'll leave it at that.
When I had cancer as a teenager, I focused on my appearance - or the parts of it I could control - and worked on improving it, mainly through obsessive skincare regimens to prevent my fast-shedding skin cells from clogging my pores.
That and powdering my bald head to keep it from being shiny.
Yes, I'm serious. Looking like the cueball isn't much fun.
I recently realized I've fallen into the same pattern as before, but fortunately without losing my hair.
My sanity, however, is a whole other ballgame.
As a consequence, I've amassed an impressive collection of various dermatological lotions and potions and serums and (something that rhymes with serums. Rhymezone recommends theorems, but I can't figure out a way to work that in).
Also, I'm now best friends with "my" cosmetics lady at Neiman Marcus. I've decided that, from now on, if I feel bad, I just need to go see her, because she always makes me feel better by gushing about how wonderful my [hair, skin, eyelashes] is/are. I don't know her name, but I fully intend to find out, next time I go in. She can't become my new best friend if I don't know her name, right?
So far, I haven't had to spend much money on the lotions and potions, but those free samples - courtesy of the NM Cosmetics Lady - won't last forever, and then...
I've always enjoyed applying creams and lotions to my face. There's something so grown up and ladylike about it. I was always fascinated growing up by watching my mom put on her make-up, and that might be part of it. But there's also, I know, an element of advertising involved. All those commercials (back when I used to watch TV) that depicted beautifully complexioned models gently massaging strangely invisible age-defying creams into their skin got under mine, somehow.
So now, in addition to the doctor-ordered soak in warm water with epsom salts (for the good old piriformis and lower back), I spend about 15 minutes carefully inspecting my pores - which I think are atrocious, but no one else has mentioned them yet, so hey - and refining my eyebrows (which I will do again in the morning, because where did that hair come from???), and buffing my face and throat with a power-tool for my face, and then carefully massaging in 1) the black tea age-defying serum and 2) the black tea age-defying cream OR 1) the face cream hand-mixed by monks in Umbria. I jokingly refer to the last product as "holy s**t face cream", and I will never buy it because it costs $140 for 40G, aka 1 oz.
Hopefully, my obsessiveness will pay off, in the end, and I won't end up looking like - well - this guy:
Possibly an understatement, but we'll leave it at that.
When I had cancer as a teenager, I focused on my appearance - or the parts of it I could control - and worked on improving it, mainly through obsessive skincare regimens to prevent my fast-shedding skin cells from clogging my pores.
That and powdering my bald head to keep it from being shiny.
Yes, I'm serious. Looking like the cueball isn't much fun.
I recently realized I've fallen into the same pattern as before, but fortunately without losing my hair.
My sanity, however, is a whole other ballgame.
As a consequence, I've amassed an impressive collection of various dermatological lotions and potions and serums and (something that rhymes with serums. Rhymezone recommends theorems, but I can't figure out a way to work that in).
Also, I'm now best friends with "my" cosmetics lady at Neiman Marcus. I've decided that, from now on, if I feel bad, I just need to go see her, because she always makes me feel better by gushing about how wonderful my [hair, skin, eyelashes] is/are. I don't know her name, but I fully intend to find out, next time I go in. She can't become my new best friend if I don't know her name, right?
So far, I haven't had to spend much money on the lotions and potions, but those free samples - courtesy of the NM Cosmetics Lady - won't last forever, and then...
I've always enjoyed applying creams and lotions to my face. There's something so grown up and ladylike about it. I was always fascinated growing up by watching my mom put on her make-up, and that might be part of it. But there's also, I know, an element of advertising involved. All those commercials (back when I used to watch TV) that depicted beautifully complexioned models gently massaging strangely invisible age-defying creams into their skin got under mine, somehow.
So now, in addition to the doctor-ordered soak in warm water with epsom salts (for the good old piriformis and lower back), I spend about 15 minutes carefully inspecting my pores - which I think are atrocious, but no one else has mentioned them yet, so hey - and refining my eyebrows (which I will do again in the morning, because where did that hair come from???), and buffing my face and throat with a power-tool for my face, and then carefully massaging in 1) the black tea age-defying serum and 2) the black tea age-defying cream OR 1) the face cream hand-mixed by monks in Umbria. I jokingly refer to the last product as "holy s**t face cream", and I will never buy it because it costs $140 for 40G, aka 1 oz.
Hopefully, my obsessiveness will pay off, in the end, and I won't end up looking like - well - this guy:
("This Guy" is, inexplicably, the first image to appear in Google images when you search "complexion")
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Medical Mystery: SOLVED!
The solution to last post's Medical Mystery?
My immune system is really sensitive.
Yup.
That's it.
That's all we could come up with. She did establish - due to a lack of joint problems and blisters on my skin - that I don't have celiac disease, so that's good.
I talked to the rheumatologist, and she asked what I was doing to try to offset the side-effects of things like eating dairy, etc.
"I'm not eating dairy," I said. "I haven't had any in weeks."
"Okay. And the gluten?"
"I don't eat gluten. And if I accidentally eat something contaminated with gluten, I take Benadryl and enzyme capsules to help break up the gluten proteins so they get flushed out of my system faster."
"Okay..." She tapped her pen against her chin. "What does it say here about nightshades?"
-Sigh-
"Nightshades - like tomatoes and bell peppers - I'm cutting them out because some people with autoimmune disorders find they can be irritating or troublesome."
"Oh. Huh. I didn't know that. Is it helping?"
"Yes, I think so. I've only been nightshade-free for about a week."
More stumped tapping of the pen against her chin. "Anything not listed here?"
"Peanuts. I'm allergic to them. I break out in a rash if I eat them."
"How are you dealing with that?"
Pause. Confused look on my face. "Well, I don't eat them."
At this point, I'm wondering how many people out there have significant, noticeable allergies to foods and continue to eat them.
"Anything else?"
"I'm trying to cut eggs out of my diet, but it's kind of difficult. I'll manage, though. I feel better when I don't eat them."
"Oh. Why eggs, too?"
"They're on a list of autoimmune disorder No-Nos I found on the interwebz."
"On the what?"
"Sorry, the internet." She's obviously not a LOLCat fan.
"Huh." More chin tapping. "Okay, so the only things that aren't obviously food related are the Reynaud's Syndrome and the swollen glands?"
"Yup."
"I could always prescribe Viagra for the Reynaud's syndrome if it really starts to bother you."
I pull a grossed-out face. "I'll pass, thanks. Massaging my fingertips under warm water is okay, for now. I'd prefer not to add another pill to my regimen."
"Okay. And the swollen glands... I think that's probably just the reaction to the foods you're eating that are giving you trouble, or seasonal allergies, maybe. See if cutting them out for a longer period of time helps."
-Sigh-
"Okay."
So, pretty much, I went to the doctor to have my competence in managing my diet reinforced, and to reinforce the notion that I know more about my autoimmune difficulties than a well-respected rheumatologist.
Score one for Big Paleo.
My immune system is really sensitive.
Yup.
That's it.
That's all we could come up with. She did establish - due to a lack of joint problems and blisters on my skin - that I don't have celiac disease, so that's good.
I talked to the rheumatologist, and she asked what I was doing to try to offset the side-effects of things like eating dairy, etc.
"I'm not eating dairy," I said. "I haven't had any in weeks."
"Okay. And the gluten?"
"I don't eat gluten. And if I accidentally eat something contaminated with gluten, I take Benadryl and enzyme capsules to help break up the gluten proteins so they get flushed out of my system faster."
"Okay..." She tapped her pen against her chin. "What does it say here about nightshades?"
-Sigh-
"Nightshades - like tomatoes and bell peppers - I'm cutting them out because some people with autoimmune disorders find they can be irritating or troublesome."
"Oh. Huh. I didn't know that. Is it helping?"
"Yes, I think so. I've only been nightshade-free for about a week."
More stumped tapping of the pen against her chin. "Anything not listed here?"
"Peanuts. I'm allergic to them. I break out in a rash if I eat them."
"How are you dealing with that?"
Pause. Confused look on my face. "Well, I don't eat them."
At this point, I'm wondering how many people out there have significant, noticeable allergies to foods and continue to eat them.
"Anything else?"
"I'm trying to cut eggs out of my diet, but it's kind of difficult. I'll manage, though. I feel better when I don't eat them."
"Oh. Why eggs, too?"
"They're on a list of autoimmune disorder No-Nos I found on the interwebz."
"On the what?"
"Sorry, the internet." She's obviously not a LOLCat fan.
"Huh." More chin tapping. "Okay, so the only things that aren't obviously food related are the Reynaud's Syndrome and the swollen glands?"
"Yup."
"I could always prescribe Viagra for the Reynaud's syndrome if it really starts to bother you."
I pull a grossed-out face. "I'll pass, thanks. Massaging my fingertips under warm water is okay, for now. I'd prefer not to add another pill to my regimen."
"Okay. And the swollen glands... I think that's probably just the reaction to the foods you're eating that are giving you trouble, or seasonal allergies, maybe. See if cutting them out for a longer period of time helps."
-Sigh-
"Okay."
So, pretty much, I went to the doctor to have my competence in managing my diet reinforced, and to reinforce the notion that I know more about my autoimmune difficulties than a well-respected rheumatologist.
Score one for Big Paleo.
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