-Maya Angelou
It has taken me 31 years to get that through my head. My grandma was right when she called me stubborn as a mule!
I grew up an only child in a traditional Italian household until the age of 8; tons of family, laughter and food.
I sure loved to eat!
I can still hear my Grandmothers voice imitating her mothers strong Italian accent "mange, mange, that's a good-a-girl".
I loved food.
I loved everything about it.
The smell, the texture, and the taste. I would eat till my little hearts content. My Grandmother would make me whatever my heart desired. My passion was her spaghetti. Basic but delicious. I would have it for breakfast, lunch and dinner seven days a week if she had let me.
Just thinking about it is making me hungry.
We moved out into our new house at the age of 8 and my love for food was put on hold.
My parents did professional catering. I know what you're thinking (I was so lucky, but I sure didn't feel it.)
Let me remind you that no child wants to eat fancy healthy food. I wanted my spaghetti!!! *insert temper tantrum here*
I would spend my summers there eating and playing with my cousin who would also stay the whole summer.
Best memories of my life; until it started to show that I was enjoying myself a little too much.
In one summer I gained 15 lbs. (Not terribly flattering I suppose).
My parents decided that maybe a little less eating at Grandma and Grandpas was the way to go and that I could "visit" in the summer but not everyday.
I was devastated.
My spaghetti, ripped from my grasp in one completely irrational decision. (well at least I thought it was).
Time went on and I got used to the idea that I wasn't going to be stuffing my face everyday with that sweet mouthwatering spaghetti.
My mom had started making lots of healthy foods that I enjoyed so it took a bit of the pain away.
I began to enjoy homemade chili and grilled chicken and marinated steak salad, all of the foods that I adore today.
My mom really could cook. I just had to give her a chance.
I had been spoiled for so long it was hard to make the adjustment, and today I'm thankful for it as I teach the same food ideas to my own children. (however they still love their great grandmas spaghetti a whole lot more).
What am I trying to get at, just babbling on about my life and my pure devotion to spaghetti?
No. I have a point, I swear.
I had a car accident a couple of months ago.
It included my two children and my step daughter. Miraculously everyone came out alive and mostly uninjured.
Since then I have started to notice changes in my life (no it's not a quarter life crisis) and changes with my body.
Unexplained weight gain, irritability, insomnia, exercise with minimal results, excruciating abdominal pain after eating, brain fog, anxiety, heartburn, depression.
Just writing that out suggests that I should have gone to a doctor much sooner than I did.
So yes it took me two months to make an appointment. I am definitely as stubborn as a mule.
I explained myself to the doctor, trying not to sound "panicky" but deep down I was starting to feel crazy.
She said "are you willing to do a blood test for celiac and crohns?", I nervously said YES trying to camouflage my fear of both diseases.
So what did I do...I put it off for two weeks. I had a vacation coming up, didn't want to ruin that.
Typical Christin.
I decided after my vacation with my two boys I would go and get the blood work done.
We vacationed at Lego Land Discovery Center, The Toronto Zoo and of course, every kids favorite place, Chuck E Cheese. I began to feel like death on the second day, conveniently after Chuck E Cheese.
I chocked it up to being really bad indigestion and heart burn.
On our trip home we had stopped at Tim Horton's to make one of many pit stops you must make with small children in the car. I was hungry but I didn't feel so hot so I decided to get a tea and a cookie.
I am a wealth of terrible ideas.
20 minutes after the cookie I was in crippling pain.
I still had to drive 2 more hours till I was home at least. I had also texted my husband from Tim Horton's telling him that we were going out for dinner when we got back since the boys and I were pretty beat and didn't feel like cooking.
However all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and pass out.
I had never felt like this EVER!
We arrived home and headed straight back out for dinner. My stomach completely bloated, sweating, cramps but I suffered through dinner for everyone else.
I just wanted to die.
We got home and put the kids to bed. I still felt like death warmed over, but it was only the tip of the iceberg. As the evening progressed the stomach pain worsened. I starting snapping..
Irritated, panic stricken and one more cramp away from having my husband drive me to the hospital
Thank god he is level headed and told me to get a hot compress and go lay down and assured me it was most likely gas pain. If it got worse I was supposed to tell him.
The combination of the hot compress, exhaustion from the fact that I had walked 5 hours in excruciating heat at the zoo and from being physically uncomfortable, I passed right out.
The following morning the pain was still there but it was in waves. I curled up in the fetal position and hoped for the best.
To my surprise, the pain passed. I was ecstatic. So I gave it some thought, the doctor had mentioned celiac. What if I were to avoid the trigger foods for celiac, it might be worth a shot.
A week passed on and I was starting to feel good, I could sleep, no more stomach pain.
I was so happy and upset all at the same time.
I have mentioned that I'm full of bad ideas right?
So my best friend and I head out on a mission to Costco before the long weekend. 5 kids.
It was pandemonium.
Kids are screaming that they are hungry, conveniently as we pass by the Costco restaurant.
We give in and grab hot dogs and drinks for everyone, I decide to be responsible and get french fries since they aren't made of bread. (who would have guessed they were battered).
Everyone is enjoying their food except for Jack, my youngest son. He refuses to eat his delicious looking hot dog. The french fries just weren't doing it for me and to spare the hot dog smothered in ketchup from ending up on my friends van floor. I took one for the team. I ate the unsuspecting french fries and the stupidly delicious steaming hot, all beef, hot dog.
Fast forward 20 minutes...
Instant migraine, sweats, stomach cramps.
I felt like a scientist discovering a cure!!!
Wheat hurts me! Hooray! Mystery solved!
Wait...
What?!?!
No more wheat?!?!?!?!?!
That means *deep gulp*........no more spaghetti!
Life is over. I felt sick.
No more beloved spaghetti with a thick slice of garlic cheese bread.
So I wallowed in my own misery for 2 days, reflecting on the days of indulging in whatever my heart desired.
My life was falling apart right in front of my eyes.
So I decided to get a second opinion (well I decided to go get the blood work done I had been asked to do in the first place.
To be continued.....
