Forced Do Over

I made some sort of technical error a while ago and lost ALL the pictures for my blog.  Lame.  I left the posts up, but now they don't make any sense.  Especially since the captions are all still up, so you're looking at blank space that says "My favorite picture of all time!".  And having the memory of a mosquito, I have no idea what my favorite picture of all time was.  So, here's what we're gonna do.

We're gonna start over, you and I.  I know, I know.  We will all miss going back and reading some of my scarier posts.  Plus, there's no more jumping tutorial post and that was a damn fine post.  But without pictures, it's a post that makes zero sense.

Rather than crying over what's already happened, we're gonna put it behind us.  I'm wiping the slate clean.  I will leave up the last two posts because they deal mostly with poop and stomachs and you know how I love that.  Plus, they kept their pictures.  Probably because they weren't even pictures of me.  I'm not so open as to post pictures of myself on the internet when it involves poop.  Boundaries, go figure.

I haven't been taking many photos recently, but here's one of Turtle and I after a particularly rough afternoon.  I gave in and called Uncle after I lost a tooth.

Here's to new beginnings, clean sheets of paper (or even just clean sheets.  GOD I LOVE CLEAN SHEETS!) and blogs with proper pictures.  May 2015 be my best year and your best year and a great year for taking goddamn pictures.

My New Diet

This past year has been a rough one for my digestive system.  It got so bad this summer that I could hardly go anywhere before noon because I had to stay close to the bathroom.  I was trying to not aggravate my stomach and was having peppermint tea and honey for breakfast, an apple and some almond butter at lunch and then usually a salad and maybe some chicken for dinner.  Like clockwork, I would wake up every morning sick.  I felt nauseous all the time.  And I mean ALL the time.  It sucked ass.  I was crabby because I felt crappy every day for almost a year.

I finally went and saw a gastroenterologist who ran a bunch of blood tests and stool samples.  I know this is TMI, so if you want to skip to the bottom to get the results I totally understand.  There's only so much poop talk you can take.  Well, not if you're me.  I was raised by a Naturopathic doctor so we're all about the poop.  Anyway, I had to poop in this weird plastic thing and then put it into little vials.  That part's okay, but then you have to carry it to the lab in your plastic grocery bag.

I got to the lab and tried to hand the bag to the woman.  She recoiled like I was trying to hand her a bag of shit.  Oh wait, I was.  Apparently, it's bad manners to hand over your bag of poo.  They put on their safety gloves and then they hold it at arms length and THEN they check to make sure you've labeled your poo correctly.

Dog poo bags are much fancier than human poo bags.  

So, after my barrage of tests they found...nothing.  So my fancy pants doctor basically said that after all these tests, if they don't find anything they call it IBS.  Irritable Bowel Syndrome.  Which is sort of a catch all for any stomach disease that isn't already classified.  And according to Dr. Stomach (not his real name, duh) most stomach diseases aren't classified and the digestive system is kind of an unknown.

He recommended I try the FODMAPS diet.  Now you guys know I am an experienced dieter from my elimination/allergy diet days.  I smirked at him like, 'Sure.  Give me the handout.  This'll be a piece of cake.'  I'm sure Dr. Stomach had the last laugh that day.

I got home and read the print out.  Then I read the internet.  Then I downloaded an App for my phone so I could figure out what to eat.

Basically, you avoid stuff with the initials of FODMAPS.  Fructose, Oligo saccharides or something like that and I think the P is for Polyols.  Crap, if you want science go google it yourself.  I'm not here to talk science, I'm here to talk poop.

This is an incomplete list and though it says you can have bananas, it doesn't mention that you can't have ripe bananas.  Or that you can only have two pieces of celery before your stomach bloats up like the Goodyear Blimp.

I can't give you a list of what I can't eat because it's too damn complicated, but it's the hardest diet I've ever been on, especially for eating out.  I can't have dairy.  Unless it's lactose free.  I can't have wheat.  So far, so good, right?  I haven't been eating wheat or dairy since May of this year (totally fixed my migraines btw).  So...what's the problem?  Oh oh oh..what's the problem you say?  I can't have garlic.  I can't have onions.  I can't have honey.  I can't have almonds, unless it's less than 12.  I can have sweet potato, but only half a cup.  Brussel Sprouts?  Sure, if you only have 3.  Avocado?  No can do.  Mushrooms?  Nope.

So eating out is hard BUT there is a bright and very shiny spot in all of this.  I can have steak and red wine and baked potatoes and butter.  And that's pretty much my IDEAL meal right there.  Also, I can have bacon.  So maybe this diet isn't that hard after all.

Steeeeeaaaak.  Oh how I love you.  

After two days on the FODMAP diet, my stomach problems cleared up and have only come back when I have tried to re-introduce some of the other foods.  I have been told that in time, I should be able to eat more variety and I'm almost done with a month long course of probiotics from my dad that were expensive enough that I'm sure I'll have Super Stomach when I'm done.

My Husband Is An Animal

Stop with your dirty thoughts!  That's totally not what I meant!  Though, of course, he totally is there too.....

Dave came home from a recent trip with chills and an upset stomach.  He looked pale and unhappy and said that he had been super cold and had been pretty nauseous for the last 24 hours.  It's funny because he's so matter of fact about the whole thing.  He said "Yeah, having an upset stomach makes it kinda difficult when you're skiing."  Kinda difficult.   When you're skiing.

See, if it had been me and my upset stomach, I would have been hovering near the bathroom anxiously.  I would have been convinced that this was the flu to end all flus and that I was on going to be throwing up any second now.  Skiing?  No.  Getting on an airplane?  Hell no!  I would have holed up in a hotel room with cable television and pajamas and whined my way through the next 24 hours.

Me when I feel a tiny bit of an upset stomach.

Dave with horrible diarrhea, nausea and chills.

Then there would be another 24 hours where I would be afraid to eat.  JUST IN CASE IT CAME BACK.  And I would probably have to cancel everything for that day too.  JUST IN CASE IT CAME BACK.  And for the next two weeks, every time my stomach so much as burbled, I would be SURE that it meant I was headed back to Flu-ville.

But not Dave.  Dave simply took breaks when he needed them and continued on his merry way.  And though this didn't happen to Dave, I know quite a few guys who if they couldn't make it to the bathroom...well, they couldn't make it and there would be laundry later.  Oh well.

Dave just doesn't hold on to things or create some sort of terrible story about things.  He's like the dog who just vomits and then feels better.  Thankfully, Dave doesn't then try to eat his vomit.  He has limits, ya know.

Dave took a short nap and then thought "I just need a salad."  This goes against everything I've ever learned.  Haven't you heard of the BRAT diet, Dave?  You can't have a salad!  For God's Sake all that fiber will make it worse!  Don't you know that you're sick?  I didn't say that.  Probably because I wasn't home at the time.

So Dave eats a salad and feels better.  He figures it was probably too much pizza and beer the week before.  And he probably only figured that because I badgered him into coming up with a hypothesis.  What kind of human doesn't come up with some sort of hypothesis about HOW they got sick and what they had?  Oh, yeah.  A male one.  Who sometimes (and I'm totally jealous about this) is just more of animal than I am and doesn't need a crazy story to go along with feeling shitty.  Of course, if I didn't have crazy stories to go along with everything, then what the hell would I blog about?

So, I'd like to give thanks that Dave doesn't tell stories and that I do.  Now I better go check out that mole and figure out why I'm still coughing and if that pimple is just a pimple or the Pimple of Impending Doom.