Picking my Poisons (and Then Throwing Them Out)

I mentioned a while back that I'd made an appointment with an ND.  Well, about eleven days ago I had that appointment, and after talking to me and looking over my history, she posited that I might have a gluten sensitivity, as well as a problem with my adrenals.  She ordered a round of tests, and a day or two later I was carefully looking the other way as a phlebotomist drew out vial after vial of the deep red stuff.

The following Tuesday I got a call from the doctor's assistant, saying that the doc wanted me to come in sooner rather than later.  I took the first available opening (Thursday, which is how I knew it wasn't really serious, because in my personal experience when it's really serious they have you come in ASAP) and tried not to let the melodramatic, worst-case-scenario portion of my personality run too wild.

So in I went, and wouldn't you know it?  Her initial suspicion was correct: I need to stay away from gluten.  In fact she highly recommended that I do a sort of cleansing program for three weeks, to give my intestines a chance to heal up, as well as add certain supplements to my diet (such as cod liver oil.  No really.)

Well I sat there listening to her and nodding, and taking my notes, and assuring her I would call with any questions, but that I needed to go home and process things before I could come up with any.  In the meantime, my internal reaction was more along the lines of:

"Pffffft."

And some less-than-flattering thoughts along the lines of "quackery".


And then I went right out and had a gluten-heavy lunch.


Now, I don't want you to think that I didn't believe her.  I did believe her, gentle readers.  What she was telling me made perfect sense in light of what I've observed in myself over the past few years, and in light of the research I'd been doing recently.  I did, in fact, believe that I needed to steer clear of gluten, and in a twisted way that's sort of why I did what I did.  I ate that gluten-heavy lunch (including bread and pasta) in defiance of what I knew to be true... and when I was rolling on the bed in agony a few hours later I did not ask for sympathy (although both Nathan and Kink did provide it, bless them).  The only reason I can come up with for why I (knowingly) did such a colossally stupid thing was because I needed to deal with the Denial-Brat inside of me.  And I assure you, she was well and thoroughly shut-up by that little experience.  She had her proof, and she stopped saying, "Pffffft."

Of course, there were other little voices that needed working on.  The little voice that totally dreads my diet becoming even more "weird", and the flak I will necessarily take from some of my friends.  The little voice that winces at the thought of trying to explain to my grandparents why I can't eat my old favorites.  The little voice that is still crying at not being able to eat my mother's cookies while we're home over the holidays.  All those voices needed some soothing, and some proving that this really is the Best Way.


It took a few more days of web-browsing and feeling-sorry-for-myself (and then feeling guilty for feeling sorry, because it's not like I'm dealing with anything life-threatening or even particularly debilitating), but I think that, for the most part, those voices are quieted.  It is enormously helpful that Nathan's immediate response to the whole thing was to volunteer to become gluten-free with  me.  By the time I'd gotten home from the doctor he'd already started to educate himself on what I can and cannot eat- and today he helped me purge the house of gluten (we didn't actually have that much, which was surprising).  Not to mention the wonderful support I've gotten from several of my friends who already eat gluten-free, either because of their own diet limitations, or because of someone they care about (or, for a select few, because they believe it's a healthier way to live).  We've already cooked several purposefully-gluten-free meals and guess what: they were awesome and pretty much exactly what we'd have made even before we knew.  So what was a bit scary and overwhelming a few days ago now seems like something totally do-able.


In fact, it seems crazy to think I ever thought it was even a little bit of a big deal.

Of course, I fully expect that pendulum to swing back and forth a few times before I'm really, truly at peace with My New Life.  And for the next three weeks I'm dealing with a much more restricted diet than just no gluten (also no sugar, no dairy, no eggs, no nuts, no high-glycemic or nightshade fruits, etc etc) which might actually turn out to be awesome, because by the time I'm off this thing, just restricting myself to "no gluten" will seem like a piece of (coconut flour) cake.

We shall see.