The theme of this summer is patience.
Oodles of patience.
Copious amounts of patience.
(Ok, I'll admit, redundant...but I just love the word copious)
Regardless, you get the idea.
I've always considered myself a reasonably patient person. I'm an elementary school teacher, I don't get upset in traffic and my father even occasionally asks to borrow a bit of my patience (this is a win:win situation, let me assure you).
All that being said, I am fairly certain that my "patient pants" are at the absolute bottom of my laundry basket and they need a major turn in the spin cycle.
When I think back to where I was in November-skeletal, unable to walk up a flight of stairs and totally lost as to what had gone wrong in my body-I have made tremendous progress. In fact, if you run into me today, I don't think you'd have any idea of the chaos that lies inside. I look normal, I sound normal and I can do relatively normal things. I have a couple of funny looking scars and a bedazzled frontal tail, but if you didn't know to look for those things, you may never even notice (unless of course, I start beeping and get escorted out of Target...details).
So yes, I am fully aware and incredibly grateful for the progress I have made and for the help I have had getting there.
It feels a bit like I decided to climb a giant mountain. I did a tremendous amount of research on what to bring, where to go and what to do in emergency situations. I set off at a sprint with my backpack full of everything I may need from the best climbing places in the world! I keep climbing and climbing and climbing and then OOF. I plant my feet firmly halfway up the mountain and take on the characteristics of a potted plant. (Ya know, needs to be watered and fed occasionally, but looks exactly the same and never moves a muscle).
And for the record, I would be an orchid. Or perhaps a gardenia.
So I'm waiting.
But what if this is it, my new and permanent normal?
I don't believe that it is. I can't believe that it is.
Besides, my good pal Dory always says to keep on swimming.
So I will.
I mean really, "I climbed half of the mountain and earned this bumper sticker!" is just much too long.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Thursday, June 14, 2012
A classic case of organ rivalry...
Ladies and gentlemen, if you don't already wake up each morning and personally greet each and every one of your body parts, I suggest that you start doing so. As it turns out, body organs can get a little, well, jealous if they aren't getting equal attention.
My thyroid was a little annoyed that my GI system had been getting so much attention and it staged a temper tantrum. A very large temper tantrum, I might add. I have Graves Disease (auto-immune disease that causes a hyperactive thyroid) but it had been in remission for a little over a year. Needless to say, it is no longer in remission and is back and means business.
In case you are unfamiliar with the workings of the thyroid, it controls how quickly the body uses energy (food) and makes proteins and it also determines how sensitive the body is to other hormones. The thyroid creates additional hormones that regulate your metabolism and affect the rate of function of many other systems in the body (how fast your heart beats, how many tears your eyes produce, etc).
As my dear pal Captain Obvious might add, when you already have significant "struggles" with metabolizing food, absorbing vitamins and getting your blood to flow...a thyroid issue isn't exactly ideal.
To say that my thyroid levels have reached hot-mess status is putting it mildly and my endocrinologist was a little aghast that I had not picked up on this sooner...until he realized that each and every symptom of Graves is a ramped up, yet plausible, symptom of something else going on in my body. Oops.
So for now, I wait (semi-patiently) and hope the medicine does its job in a timely fashion. In the mean-time, I get to spend some quality time with the Scorpion (my all-star dust buster....duh) as I suck up all of the hair that has fallen out of my head. Luckily for me, it is summer time and the ponytail is totally IN on the red carpet...phew.
I wonder if body organs can write a slip to meet with the counselor?
It might be time for conflict mediation...
My thyroid was a little annoyed that my GI system had been getting so much attention and it staged a temper tantrum. A very large temper tantrum, I might add. I have Graves Disease (auto-immune disease that causes a hyperactive thyroid) but it had been in remission for a little over a year. Needless to say, it is no longer in remission and is back and means business.
In case you are unfamiliar with the workings of the thyroid, it controls how quickly the body uses energy (food) and makes proteins and it also determines how sensitive the body is to other hormones. The thyroid creates additional hormones that regulate your metabolism and affect the rate of function of many other systems in the body (how fast your heart beats, how many tears your eyes produce, etc).
As my dear pal Captain Obvious might add, when you already have significant "struggles" with metabolizing food, absorbing vitamins and getting your blood to flow...a thyroid issue isn't exactly ideal.
To say that my thyroid levels have reached hot-mess status is putting it mildly and my endocrinologist was a little aghast that I had not picked up on this sooner...until he realized that each and every symptom of Graves is a ramped up, yet plausible, symptom of something else going on in my body. Oops.
So for now, I wait (semi-patiently) and hope the medicine does its job in a timely fashion. In the mean-time, I get to spend some quality time with the Scorpion (my all-star dust buster....duh) as I suck up all of the hair that has fallen out of my head. Luckily for me, it is summer time and the ponytail is totally IN on the red carpet...phew.
I wonder if body organs can write a slip to meet with the counselor?
It might be time for conflict mediation...
Monday, June 4, 2012
Making a choice
Blog friends, I need to get something off of my chest.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
I'm actually not a super hero.
(But if I was, I would have a fantastically long silver sequined cape. Just so we are clear.)
Throughout this entire health journey, I have been blown away by the outpouring of support from my family, friends, and people who read this blog who I have never even met. Absolutely, positively blown away. I have kept every single card I have received and as cheesy as it may sound, I read through them at least once a week. All of them. And what gets me every time, what really fills me up to the brim with awestruck and blessed emotion, is your faith in me.
Please don't misunderstand, those cards and blog comments are what has kept me going on the rough days and I don't even have words to express my most sincere gratitude. But if someone were to read them out of context, they would think they belonged to a super hero. Someone who has literally leapt over skyscrapers, ended the unemployment crisis and casually found a cure for cancer...none of which I have done, and while I'm extraordinarily grateful for your words, I feel rather undeserving.
Here's the thing: I'm a positive person. I find the sunny side, it's just what I do. But regardless of my personality and regardless of the degree of hot-mess in which my health situation resides and regardless of the state of the current weather, I know that I have a choice. Every. Single. Day.
I could dwell on the negative. The obstacles and hardships that I didn't see coming, and even the ones that I did. I could easily spend my day filling up to the brim with all of the terrible things going on in the world or how I want a piece of pizza or how I think I'm coming down with a cold and the store was out of kleenex with lotion. It's painfully easy to find the negative, but honestly, that's just miserable.
Or I can find the positive. I can acknowledge the negative and move on. I can be grateful for what I have, instead of what I am missing.
I'm not saying this is easy, if it was easy, I would be wearing that fantastic silver sequined cape. All I'm saying is that it is a choice that I try to make.
I recently started a volunteer position at a therapeutic riding facility. I have been wanting to try a volunteer job for awhile and I finally got the "go ahead" from the medical powers that be, as long as it was only once a week. I just felt like there was no way for me to get a reading on how I was doing, without actually trying to do anything (crazy logic, I know).
So today I spent three hours surrounded by horses and helping people build their strength and self esteem. I loved every minute of it and felt fulfilled in a way that has been lacking, more than I even realized. I was complimented on my backpack (duh, I told you feeding-tube-wear was making a comeback!) and I came home covered in sweat and dirt, with black fingernails and a giant smile on my face.
After I semi-reluctantly showered away my horsey-stench and sat down to a gourmet lunch of yogurt, pureed carrots and bread, I will admit that I had a moment of negativity. I spent three blissful hours feeling useful and happy, only to come home feeling like I got run over by a giant semi. I hurt, and I was mad, and my lower lip may have been protruding.
But I got over it. Yes, I have been popping tylenol to deal with my raging fever and aching back and head. Yes, I may or may not have fallen asleep not one, not two, but three times during the formation of this blog...and yes, I had a fantastic day.
I'm not a super hero, not in the slightest, I'm just doing my best to make a choice.
Although that cape would really be fantastic...
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
I'm actually not a super hero.
(But if I was, I would have a fantastically long silver sequined cape. Just so we are clear.)
Throughout this entire health journey, I have been blown away by the outpouring of support from my family, friends, and people who read this blog who I have never even met. Absolutely, positively blown away. I have kept every single card I have received and as cheesy as it may sound, I read through them at least once a week. All of them. And what gets me every time, what really fills me up to the brim with awestruck and blessed emotion, is your faith in me.
Please don't misunderstand, those cards and blog comments are what has kept me going on the rough days and I don't even have words to express my most sincere gratitude. But if someone were to read them out of context, they would think they belonged to a super hero. Someone who has literally leapt over skyscrapers, ended the unemployment crisis and casually found a cure for cancer...none of which I have done, and while I'm extraordinarily grateful for your words, I feel rather undeserving.
Here's the thing: I'm a positive person. I find the sunny side, it's just what I do. But regardless of my personality and regardless of the degree of hot-mess in which my health situation resides and regardless of the state of the current weather, I know that I have a choice. Every. Single. Day.
I could dwell on the negative. The obstacles and hardships that I didn't see coming, and even the ones that I did. I could easily spend my day filling up to the brim with all of the terrible things going on in the world or how I want a piece of pizza or how I think I'm coming down with a cold and the store was out of kleenex with lotion. It's painfully easy to find the negative, but honestly, that's just miserable.
Or I can find the positive. I can acknowledge the negative and move on. I can be grateful for what I have, instead of what I am missing.
I'm not saying this is easy, if it was easy, I would be wearing that fantastic silver sequined cape. All I'm saying is that it is a choice that I try to make.
I recently started a volunteer position at a therapeutic riding facility. I have been wanting to try a volunteer job for awhile and I finally got the "go ahead" from the medical powers that be, as long as it was only once a week. I just felt like there was no way for me to get a reading on how I was doing, without actually trying to do anything (crazy logic, I know).
So today I spent three hours surrounded by horses and helping people build their strength and self esteem. I loved every minute of it and felt fulfilled in a way that has been lacking, more than I even realized. I was complimented on my backpack (duh, I told you feeding-tube-wear was making a comeback!) and I came home covered in sweat and dirt, with black fingernails and a giant smile on my face.
After I semi-reluctantly showered away my horsey-stench and sat down to a gourmet lunch of yogurt, pureed carrots and bread, I will admit that I had a moment of negativity. I spent three blissful hours feeling useful and happy, only to come home feeling like I got run over by a giant semi. I hurt, and I was mad, and my lower lip may have been protruding.
But I got over it. Yes, I have been popping tylenol to deal with my raging fever and aching back and head. Yes, I may or may not have fallen asleep not one, not two, but three times during the formation of this blog...and yes, I had a fantastic day.
I'm not a super hero, not in the slightest, I'm just doing my best to make a choice.
Although that cape would really be fantastic...
Thursday, May 24, 2012
A milestone to be found
It's really rather amazing to reflect on how much we can accomplish in one year. In some ways, a year flies by. I have several friends who have children who are either almost a year old, or recently turned one, and I absolutely cannot believe it is already time for a birthday. In other ways, when we think about waiting a year to do something, it seems like an eternity (I mean, come on, whenever the summer ends and you go home from camp, you cannot even fathom waiting an entire year to go back).
I recently hit a year milestone myself and I must admit that I struggled a bit with what to make of it all. A year ago, I ran my first half marathon with a good friend. Knowing what I do now, it makes sense why the race itself was such a struggle. I mean, the word on the street is that blood flow is somewhat essential to life. Details. At the time, I couldn't understand why it was so hard and I spent most of the latter part of the race beating myself up mentally. I had trained and followed the plan, but I still barely made it. (Strong emphasis on barely...I'm not entirely sure that my mother breathed a single breath during the entire race).
In any event, exactly a year later, I received a letter congratulating me for qualifying for long term disability. Well yippee skippee, I'm disabled for the long term! Let's frame this sucker and hang it right next to my graduate degree!
Jokes aside, I know deep down that it is both a good thing and the right thing. I've made a lot of progress, but I'm in no shape to go back to work yet and being on long term disability allows me to take time to continue healing.
But how on earth do you go from training for a half marathon to receiving a letter stating that you are disabled in a matter of 365 days? It's mind boggling. To say that it humbles you to be told, in writing, that you are disabled is putting it mildly.
So here is my question: If my life can turn upside down, inside out and backwards in a year...then why can't it turn right-side up, right-side out and forwards in another year? Even in a matter of months, I have improved my strength tremendously and I don't plan on stopping here. I am on the continuous quest to add nutrition back into my restricted diet and mark my words, this lovely feeding accessory will not see the light of 2013. I'm not expecting miracles here and although it would be nice to wake up tomorrow completely healthy, it is not a thought I choose to dwell on.
So here is my pledge, typed out for all to see. In May of 2013, I'm going to set a new milestone. I don't really know what I'll do or how I'll get there, but I am going to give new meaning to the month of May, no matter if I am disabled or not.
All I'm really saying is that I think I can turn this ship around. I'll never be able to return to the same port, but I know there is an equally lovely dock to be found.
I recently hit a year milestone myself and I must admit that I struggled a bit with what to make of it all. A year ago, I ran my first half marathon with a good friend. Knowing what I do now, it makes sense why the race itself was such a struggle. I mean, the word on the street is that blood flow is somewhat essential to life. Details. At the time, I couldn't understand why it was so hard and I spent most of the latter part of the race beating myself up mentally. I had trained and followed the plan, but I still barely made it. (Strong emphasis on barely...I'm not entirely sure that my mother breathed a single breath during the entire race).
In any event, exactly a year later, I received a letter congratulating me for qualifying for long term disability. Well yippee skippee, I'm disabled for the long term! Let's frame this sucker and hang it right next to my graduate degree!
Jokes aside, I know deep down that it is both a good thing and the right thing. I've made a lot of progress, but I'm in no shape to go back to work yet and being on long term disability allows me to take time to continue healing.
But how on earth do you go from training for a half marathon to receiving a letter stating that you are disabled in a matter of 365 days? It's mind boggling. To say that it humbles you to be told, in writing, that you are disabled is putting it mildly.
So here is my question: If my life can turn upside down, inside out and backwards in a year...then why can't it turn right-side up, right-side out and forwards in another year? Even in a matter of months, I have improved my strength tremendously and I don't plan on stopping here. I am on the continuous quest to add nutrition back into my restricted diet and mark my words, this lovely feeding accessory will not see the light of 2013. I'm not expecting miracles here and although it would be nice to wake up tomorrow completely healthy, it is not a thought I choose to dwell on.
So here is my pledge, typed out for all to see. In May of 2013, I'm going to set a new milestone. I don't really know what I'll do or how I'll get there, but I am going to give new meaning to the month of May, no matter if I am disabled or not.
All I'm really saying is that I think I can turn this ship around. I'll never be able to return to the same port, but I know there is an equally lovely dock to be found.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Adding a little color
Since my confirmation of gastroparesis in April, I have been on a mission to improve my diet. As a complete health nut, spending over a year eating mostly white carbohydrates and sugar was more than long enough, and I am ready to have some color back in my diet (and no, the variety pack of gummy bears doesn't count...rats). As I have embarked upon this giant scavenger hunt, I keep reluctantly returning to one staple ingredient: baby food. Yes friends, despite the fact that I am now closer to 50 than I am to infancy, I can't seem to escape the miniature jars of puree.
I do a pretty decent job of incorporating fruit into my diet with applesauce and smoothies, but veggies are another matter. I do make a mean green smoothie, but even that gets old after awhile and I have finally come to terms with the fact that carrot juice and I are just NOT meant to be friends...which leads me back to the little jars. I mean, if you think about it, at one point in time, the green goop in the jar really was fresh, ripe peas off the vine...right?
Let me assure you that I cannot eat the stuff right out of the jar. I mean, I haven't completely lost ALL of my dignity (ya know, just 99.9% or so). However...apple-carrot puree in yogurt? Pureed spinach on toast? Either they are really not that bad, or my taste buds are really that much out of practice. (More likely the latter, based on my husband's terrified expressions, but I choose not to analyze.) Oh and a note to my future children: If you ever look back and read this post, feel free to thank me for completely taste-testing the entire organic baby food section of the grocery store. I promise I will never feed you sweet pea and potato. It's disgusting. Smooches.
In any event, my quest for color has taken me galavanting around to several grocery stores this week, which has provided for some, well, colorful commentary.
Take, for example, my first trip to Safeway:
Check out lady (eyeing my basket full of miniature jars): "Oh! How old is your little one?"
(See, if I was smart, this is where I would say "6 months!" or however old kids are when they start electively eating green goop, but alas, no such luck.)
Me: "Oh, actually they are for me. I have some pretty strict dietary restrictions."
Check out lady: "Oh...well...that's kind of a weird fetish, but whatever makes you happy!"
Me: "Um...right?"
Moving on, I took a trip to Wegmans later in the week:
Teenage bagger: "WOW! Is that a feeding tube?! I've never seen one before, that is SO cool!!!"
Me: "Um...thanks?"
(I mean, I don't want to deny myself a compliment, and he could have been reacting to my overwhelming celebrity status I suppose...)
Last, but not least, no scavenger hunt of any kind is complete without a trip to Target:
Check out lady: "Hi, did you find everything you needed today?"
Me: "Yes, thanks so much."
[Cue loud and obnoxious beeping alarm that causes every single person in the check out area of Target to jump, turn and stare at me. The security guard appears and heads my way.]
(Again, if I was smart, I would calmly turn off my tube alarm and proceed as if nothing happened. Instead, I feel the need to state the exact cause of the problem.)
Me: "Oops, nothing to worry about, it's just an air bubble!"
(Right, because clearly the general public knows exactly how feeding tubes work)
[Cue increase in terrified expressions that someone could actually have alarm-inducing flatulence.]
Me: "I mean in my tube! My feeding tube! The bubble is IN the tube!" (and other such panicked ramblings)
Security Guard: "Everything ok here ma'am?"
Me: "Yes sir, everything is fine. My feeding tube alarm just went off."
Security Guard: "I see." (But just to be sure, I'll follow you down the aisle and out the door. I mean, can't be too sure with those suspicious looking tube-feeders.)
Fear not, my jars and I made it home just fine.
According to the package, I can start incorporating the vegetable puree into my diet when I am sitting independently and showing excitement when presented with food.
Gerber, a word with you about that excitement part?
I do a pretty decent job of incorporating fruit into my diet with applesauce and smoothies, but veggies are another matter. I do make a mean green smoothie, but even that gets old after awhile and I have finally come to terms with the fact that carrot juice and I are just NOT meant to be friends...which leads me back to the little jars. I mean, if you think about it, at one point in time, the green goop in the jar really was fresh, ripe peas off the vine...right?
Let me assure you that I cannot eat the stuff right out of the jar. I mean, I haven't completely lost ALL of my dignity (ya know, just 99.9% or so). However...apple-carrot puree in yogurt? Pureed spinach on toast? Either they are really not that bad, or my taste buds are really that much out of practice. (More likely the latter, based on my husband's terrified expressions, but I choose not to analyze.) Oh and a note to my future children: If you ever look back and read this post, feel free to thank me for completely taste-testing the entire organic baby food section of the grocery store. I promise I will never feed you sweet pea and potato. It's disgusting. Smooches.
In any event, my quest for color has taken me galavanting around to several grocery stores this week, which has provided for some, well, colorful commentary.
Take, for example, my first trip to Safeway:
Check out lady (eyeing my basket full of miniature jars): "Oh! How old is your little one?"
(See, if I was smart, this is where I would say "6 months!" or however old kids are when they start electively eating green goop, but alas, no such luck.)
Me: "Oh, actually they are for me. I have some pretty strict dietary restrictions."
Check out lady: "Oh...well...that's kind of a weird fetish, but whatever makes you happy!"
Me: "Um...right?"
Moving on, I took a trip to Wegmans later in the week:
Teenage bagger: "WOW! Is that a feeding tube?! I've never seen one before, that is SO cool!!!"
Me: "Um...thanks?"
(I mean, I don't want to deny myself a compliment, and he could have been reacting to my overwhelming celebrity status I suppose...)
Last, but not least, no scavenger hunt of any kind is complete without a trip to Target:
Check out lady: "Hi, did you find everything you needed today?"
Me: "Yes, thanks so much."
[Cue loud and obnoxious beeping alarm that causes every single person in the check out area of Target to jump, turn and stare at me. The security guard appears and heads my way.]
(Again, if I was smart, I would calmly turn off my tube alarm and proceed as if nothing happened. Instead, I feel the need to state the exact cause of the problem.)
Me: "Oops, nothing to worry about, it's just an air bubble!"
(Right, because clearly the general public knows exactly how feeding tubes work)
[Cue increase in terrified expressions that someone could actually have alarm-inducing flatulence.]
Me: "I mean in my tube! My feeding tube! The bubble is IN the tube!" (and other such panicked ramblings)
Security Guard: "Everything ok here ma'am?"
Me: "Yes sir, everything is fine. My feeding tube alarm just went off."
Security Guard: "I see." (But just to be sure, I'll follow you down the aisle and out the door. I mean, can't be too sure with those suspicious looking tube-feeders.)
Fear not, my jars and I made it home just fine.
According to the package, I can start incorporating the vegetable puree into my diet when I am sitting independently and showing excitement when presented with food.
Gerber, a word with you about that excitement part?
Friday, April 27, 2012
Moving Forward
My friends, it has been a whirlwind, but productive, couple of days here at the Mayo Clinic. Yesterday I had appointments/procedures at 6:45, 8:00, 11:00, 11:30, 2:00, 2:30 and 3:30. Needless to say, I am sporting the "I may or may not have been run over by a truck" look today. Super glam.
I could bore you to tears with details about the IV drama (3 tries) and the blow torching of my belly button (um...ow), but you've all heard them before and they really mask the heart of the matter at hand here. The truth is, I got confirmation of what my body has been telling me and I have known deep down all of this time. My gastroparesis was never gone. The gastric emptying test I had in January was a false negative. An unfortunate fluke. And honestly, I have to tell you...I am relieved.
I know that may sound odd, and you may be questioning just how much anesthesia I received yesterday, but it's the truth. I feel like a giant weight has been lifted from my shoulders. For months, I have been arduously persevering as I have tried new foods and over and over and over again, I failed. Foods that shouldn't be problematic have caused huge problems and I recently had to go back to all liquids in a desperate attempt to restart my system. I couldn't understand why I was trying so hard and continually failing. My self esteem was at an all time low and I have to admit that I was really starting to question my sanity.
Now I can stop all of that. I can accept what has happened to my body and move on. If I don't want to eat something, I don't have to. I don't have to spend my days forcing myself to eat food that makes me sick over and over and over again. I have both visceral hypersensitivity and gastroparesis, which means that even foods that are "gastroparesis friendly" will often cause problems...a combination that is likely going to lead to a new area of research in the GI department at Mayo. According to my stomach, it doesn't matter what food it is...my body just doesn't want it there. But with that double whammy of gastric hot mess-ness comes the freedom to really eat anything I want. If I want to try something, I can, because some days it might be fine. Likewise, if I feel miserable and just want to have nutritious liquids for a week, that is ok too. The choice is mine and I no longer have to feel like a failure when something as innocuous as soy milk sends me sprinting across the grocery store to the bathroom.
Above all, I can stop searching for a miracle cure that just does not exist.
My life has been on the pause button for far too long and I am ready to hit play. Yes, I have gastroparesis. Yes, I am now forced to make some huge, terrifying life changes, and that leaves me both broken-hearted and hopeful. But who is to say that having a virus cause holy havoc in my body isn't the best thing to ever happen to me? I may not see the reason now, but I know I will someday (ya know, besides the obvious increase in celebrity status and gummy bear consumption.) I may get better tomorrow or in ten years. I may live the rest of my life with gastroparesis, there is just no way to know, but I am finished waiting around and missing out on my life.
I have gastroparesis.
I'm going to be just fine.
I could bore you to tears with details about the IV drama (3 tries) and the blow torching of my belly button (um...ow), but you've all heard them before and they really mask the heart of the matter at hand here. The truth is, I got confirmation of what my body has been telling me and I have known deep down all of this time. My gastroparesis was never gone. The gastric emptying test I had in January was a false negative. An unfortunate fluke. And honestly, I have to tell you...I am relieved.
I know that may sound odd, and you may be questioning just how much anesthesia I received yesterday, but it's the truth. I feel like a giant weight has been lifted from my shoulders. For months, I have been arduously persevering as I have tried new foods and over and over and over again, I failed. Foods that shouldn't be problematic have caused huge problems and I recently had to go back to all liquids in a desperate attempt to restart my system. I couldn't understand why I was trying so hard and continually failing. My self esteem was at an all time low and I have to admit that I was really starting to question my sanity.
Now I can stop all of that. I can accept what has happened to my body and move on. If I don't want to eat something, I don't have to. I don't have to spend my days forcing myself to eat food that makes me sick over and over and over again. I have both visceral hypersensitivity and gastroparesis, which means that even foods that are "gastroparesis friendly" will often cause problems...a combination that is likely going to lead to a new area of research in the GI department at Mayo. According to my stomach, it doesn't matter what food it is...my body just doesn't want it there. But with that double whammy of gastric hot mess-ness comes the freedom to really eat anything I want. If I want to try something, I can, because some days it might be fine. Likewise, if I feel miserable and just want to have nutritious liquids for a week, that is ok too. The choice is mine and I no longer have to feel like a failure when something as innocuous as soy milk sends me sprinting across the grocery store to the bathroom.
Above all, I can stop searching for a miracle cure that just does not exist.
My life has been on the pause button for far too long and I am ready to hit play. Yes, I have gastroparesis. Yes, I am now forced to make some huge, terrifying life changes, and that leaves me both broken-hearted and hopeful. But who is to say that having a virus cause holy havoc in my body isn't the best thing to ever happen to me? I may not see the reason now, but I know I will someday (ya know, besides the obvious increase in celebrity status and gummy bear consumption.) I may get better tomorrow or in ten years. I may live the rest of my life with gastroparesis, there is just no way to know, but I am finished waiting around and missing out on my life.
I have gastroparesis.
I'm going to be just fine.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
My dear Rochester
Dear Rochester, Minnesota,
I know you have been preparing for weeks for my arrival. I am a very grounded celebrity and therefore I only have a few very simple requests. First, I'd like to congratulate you on your excellent planning! I am aware that his Holiness, the Dalai Lama, is at Mayo today. What smart planning to schedule him the day before me as a practice run! Anyway, I'd like a brigade of ponies and attractive men to escort me from the airport to the clinic and small adorable children should shower me with gummy bears. Please tell all of the designers who are chomping at the bit for me to choose the new "it" feeding tube backpack, that I will meet with them briefly before my first procedure on Thursday. Thank you ever so much for attending to my very simple requests. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.
Oh, and please don't forget to have non-fat frozen yogurt raining from the sky.
Smooches!
Lydia
I know you have been preparing for weeks for my arrival. I am a very grounded celebrity and therefore I only have a few very simple requests. First, I'd like to congratulate you on your excellent planning! I am aware that his Holiness, the Dalai Lama, is at Mayo today. What smart planning to schedule him the day before me as a practice run! Anyway, I'd like a brigade of ponies and attractive men to escort me from the airport to the clinic and small adorable children should shower me with gummy bears. Please tell all of the designers who are chomping at the bit for me to choose the new "it" feeding tube backpack, that I will meet with them briefly before my first procedure on Thursday. Thank you ever so much for attending to my very simple requests. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.
Oh, and please don't forget to have non-fat frozen yogurt raining from the sky.
Smooches!
Lydia
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