Ugh. What a week!! And the worst part? I’ve been going through probably the best stretch I’ve had since my celiac diagnosis in 2007. So what happened? I have no idea but let’s go through my week.
Ate a loaf of wonder bread and downed it with a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon. Just kidding. Went out with my crew of friends to a restaurant I’ve been to a dozen times before. High-end food. They understand celiac. Have never gotten sick. The chef that is always there is not there tonight. Bummer.
For an appetizer I ordered fried calamari and mozzarella sticks. (Ok…I’ll stop doing that.) For appies, I order grilled scallops. Simple. Delish.
For dinner, a simple piece of halibut over pureed cauliflower. Amazing.
Dessert time. I NEVER order dessert when I’m out. One because I don’t like leaving a restaurant feeling stuffed and two because there is usually nothing close that I can have. But for some reason I order the bread pudding (sorry… really the last time I do that). Actually, I split a piece of flour-less chocolate cake with my sis-in-law. I’m 99% sure I’ve had this before and was fine. But my bad for not asking more questions. Just a rookie mistake. I ate it, was thankful for a fun evening and we departed.
Exhausted. Absolutely exhausted. Couldn’t get anything done. No concern at this point (though I DETEST the days of no energy).
Since I lost so much work time on Monday, I woke up at 5 and had a good productive day. Not the best energy-wise. Still off. But not as bad as Monday.
Shoot me. Just put me out of my misery. Angry and tired all day and then around 6:00 my stomach started KILLING me. And I mean killing me. If you put a pin in me, I swear I would have popped. How bad was it? Take a look. You may want to hide the kids:
Pretty attractive, huh? No, I’m not pregnant. No, I normally don’t have that gut. And no, I’m not pushing anything out. That was me in all my glory. Went to bed unbelievably pissed about my disease, which I never do. It wasn’t “why me?”. It was simply “I’m sick of this shit.”
Set my alarm for 5:00 again hoping I could make up again for lost time. Hell no. Did not make it out of bed until 9 and the day didn’t get any better from there. Barely ate all day, except a bowl of cheerios and a can of Old Milwaukee (last time I promise). I had a protein shake and some watermelon. Hit the sack by 7:30. Set my alarm for 5 again. Fun day!
Got up at 5 and had a bowl of Wheat Chex (I know I promised….couldn’t resist). It’s now 8:20 and I feel awesome. It’s gonna be a good day.
So what do I make of all of this?
1) I’m frustrated. I’m not sure if I got glutened at the restaurant or if it’s just the nature of having an autoimmune disease that rears its ugly head once in a while. Either way, it got to me like it hasn’t in a long time.
2) I’m not alone. On Wednesday night, I tweeted the following: I f***ing hate celiac disease. That is all. So far, the tweet has been liked 210 times and retweeted 32 times. So yeah…lots in the same boat. I got some saying “hang in there”. I got some offering helpful advice. And I got one that saying it could be worse. I replied that I am fine with celiac 99% of the time, but this time it just hit me hard for some reason. I’m allowed that.
3) I’m moving on. I had my tantrum. It’s done. I have celiac disease. I’ll always have celiac disease. And the cycle of feeling great to getting hit to feeling great (rinse, lather, repeat) is part of the deal.
This is the life of a celiac.