I Have to Do What With My Pasta?

As promised, here it is from the beginning. Starting with March of 2011. 

In the beginning, there was pain...

When I first started working for my current company, I was part time. I was just happy to have a job at all, having recently graduated and not having the easiest time finding jobs. To supplement my income, I took a night/weekend job doing what I did in high school - working as a cashier for a certain store that one of my old customers always called "The Big A** Bird." At least part of that involved lifting heavy items whenever customers ignored the sign that says to leave them in the cart so we could use the hand scanner. So when I got a horrible pain in my lower abdomen, my husband (then fiance) suggested it might be a hernia. Which is good because otherwise I never would have gone to the doctor. I've had IBS for years, and tend to go with the "suck it up" philosophy on stomach pain.

Then came the scalpel...

What the doctor found was an ovarian cyst (I know, nothing to do with gluten, but stay with me - I'll get there).  I was put on medications, but mostly I just used a heating pad. My stomach swelled up horribly, but about 3 weeks later the pain and bloating were gone. A few months afterward, it happened again. Again I used the heating pad. This went on for over a year. Then, 4 days into my honeymoon, it started again. Only this time, it didn't go away. So I went to a specialist. The specialist said cysts wouldn't cause all of that, and I probably had endometriosis. I can't even tell you how much that scared me - anyone who's met me for 2 minutes can feel the baby fever baking off of my skin. So I had surgery that found - you guessed it - a fat lot of nothing. 

And then I listened to my body.

Next stop was the GI doctor (I was also prepared to go to a voodoo priest at this point if necessary - I was in pain all of the time, and I was exhausted no matter how much I slept from the stress on my body). I was praying for this doctor to find something, if only so I could stop wearing maternity pants (yes, the bloating was really that bad - and, no, it wasn't just fat. It came and went with the pain). My doctor examined me for literally 5 minutes, and said it was probably my abdominal wall, and I should just put heat on it. The bloating, he said, was from eating high fodmap foods. The two were unrelated, he said, and just happened to coincide. I was rushed out of the office, and barely had time to think.

I break there because this is important. My doctor wanted to stop there. No tests. No more questions. No exploration. Just 5 minutes, this is what it is, suck it up and go home. My gut told me (no pun intended there) that he was wrong. I e-mailed the next day and said that if he wanted to stick with that diagnosis, I would be getting a second opinion. He then magically decided to schedule me for a colonoscopy/endoscopy, or, as I like to call it, the shish-kabob. The test found trace indicators that I may have Celiac. So I went for a blood test. Which first got sent out incorrectly, so I waited awhile for my results.

The results came to me in the form of a phone call from my doctor at 8:00pm on Tuesday. And I have to say, nothing is more reassuring than your doctor calling you at that time of night. He very impersonally and with no empathy or compassion explained that I had Celiac, and that if I didn't follow the diet, I could get tumors, rheumatoid arthritis, or osteoporosis. Thanks, Doc. That part is important too - a lot of people think "oh, so you get a little sick to your stomach if you eat it. C'mon, just have a little. It won't kill you." Maybe not - but there are extremely serious consequences, and a tummy ache is by far the least of them.

I started to cry  (I know, it sounds stupid, but I'm Italian and had just found out I can't eat most of my grandmother's cooking ever again. If you'd ever had her breaded cutlets, you'd cry, too), and wandered around the apartment marking everything with gluten in it with an "X." That's where Mike (my husband) came in. He said he'd go gluten free with me (at least when he's at home), and we put everything in bags to donate. I have to say, knowing that he'd be doing this with me was the first thing to make this a little easier.

So what now?

I'm still really up and down about this. On the plus side, I feel better today than I have in a really long time. On the negative, I couldn't eat anything but cucumber slices at the reception after my CLE last night (yes, I'm an attorney, but please don't hold it against me). I do, however, have a ton of support. My brother-in-law's aunt has been gluten free for 10 years - long before gluten free foods were readily available - and she said I can e-mail her any time. The first thing she recommended was brown rice pasta, which I'll be buying this weekend. 

Then, today, my boss told me that the Cavs have a Celiac awareness night, which she found out by checking out a support group in my area for me. My sister, who is very health-conscious is a big supporter, and of course, my husband. He even made himself late for work the day after I found out to pack me a gluten free lunch.

This isn't going to be easy, but it will be WAY easier than it would have been even 3-4 years ago. Also, yes, I know, I just broke my no long posts rule horribly. Stick with me anyway - we'll figure it out together.