Pregnancy does a lot of crazy things to a body. Oddly enough, it’s not the crazy things I was expecting like stretch marks and a flabby belly.
I was not at all prepared for post-partum. Baby blues, yes. Well, as prepared as one can be. Unable to function, no.
Neither was I prepared for my back to continue hurting. For my skin to get so dry and itchy. For my math skills to be reduced to anything in sets of four but nothing else.
Okay, in all fairness, my math skills were highly lacking before the pregnancy.
So with all that, I wasn’t really surprised when my tummy “issues” got worse. I’ve never had a wonderful system in that area. And while I feel blessed to have traveled down the road of infertility, honestly, I find very little about a whacked out digestive system over which to feel blessed.
By July, I found myself lying on the floor of Pumpkin’s nursery after a particularly delicious dinner of steak and baked potato. I was in a little pain. And I swear I thought I would pass out. Mom and Dad were in town visiting and they were not at all thrilled that I had been feeling this way and pretty much ignoring it.
I am not a very good patient.
Along comes Fall. I have now, through the process of elimination, figured out I can eat Slim Fast meal bars, chicken and rice without getting sick. I would eat two bars for breakfast, a quarter roasted chicken and rice from the restaurant at work for lunch and a bar for dinner.
Awesome for post-baby weight loss. Bad for running long runs. Horrible for a self-professed food-lover.
September is also Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month.
What? You didn’t celebrate.
It was in all my magazines and most of them listed symptoms. Whadaya know, I had them all. I put on my hypochondriacal hat and googled the tar out of that. Managed to make myself more than a little worried. My saving thought was all those symptoms were for people in advanced stages of ovarian cancer. I reasoned since approximately 62 different people have poked and peaked at Lulu and Rita in the past two years, surely one of them would have seen cancer.
Right?
Yeah, I made an appointment.
Off I go to the OB who listened to all my symptoms and then proceeded to feel up Lulu and Rita. Afterward, he announced that no, I did not have ovarian cancer but it could be a colon thing.
And I kid you not, my first thought was “Great. Now I have to name my colon.”
My second thought was okay, good. Because I’m not at all sure how I’d look bald.
Third thought was I need to google colon cancer. Bald is beautiful.
On to the gastroenterologist.
He was fabulous. Honestly. He listened to all my craziness and never asked to hand inspect my colon. He asked a bazillion questions. I mean I listed all kinds of stuff because the man even asked if my skin had been itching.
Really? How’d you know that?
He says “It might be Celiac’s”.
Me and my degree from the University of Google Medicine said, “Nah, I already looked into that. All the stuff you’re not supposed to eat is all the stuff I’ve used to ward off my IBS symptoms.”
And then he says, “If it’s okay with you, I’d still like to do a quick blood test to make sure.”
Ah. Such a sweet man to ask my permission to prove me right.
And I was wrong.
The next week the nurse calls and says, “Well, the test for Celiac’s came back positive.”
Me: Nah-ah.
Nurse: Yeah! It’s a rare diagnosis for us so we’re kind of excited.
Me: So glad I could bring some joy to your day.
And then I laughed. Because really, why not. After you’ve been down the infertile road, I’m not sure anything about my body could faze me. It’s all possible.
I called Chris. Said, “Gluten-free here we come”. He said, “We got this”. Then he said, “It’s not cancer so we can handle anything else”.
Five minutes later he emailed me to say he was panicked about eating dressing at Thanksgiving. I assured him that even though I could not have any, I felt positive Dad would still cook it.
Crisis averted.
Now I am scheduled for the final test to confirm the diagnosis. A scope and biopsy. My only question was “They’ll knock me out for that, right?” Not gonna lie. I can handle most anything as long as I’m knocked out.
Hopefully, we’ll have the results from that before Thanksgiving but I’m not waiting until then. I have an entire diet overhaul to accomplish here. And a name to pick out.
Research says it’s not so much my colon as it is my small intestine. So I was thinking about Suzy. What do you think?
My colon would have been Chuck. Because I couldn’t resist that. It was a little odd to think about my colon as male but it just made more sense. He hurts.
But now we know it’s Suzy that hurts but only because I’ve been poisoning her with bread, pasta, cake, pizza, cookies and cereal.
So I’d like for us all to give a warm welcome to Suzy.
Hiiii Sssuuuuzzzyyyy.
While ya’ll are introducing yourselves to her, I’ll be in the pantry cleaning out everything I can’t eat. Which pretty much means everything in the pantry. Be on the lookout for a fair well party honoring Oatmeal Crème Pies, Oreo Cookies, White Bread, Ritz Crackers, Fuzzy’s Chips & Queso and Ice Cream Sandwiches later on. Invitations should be in the mail soon.
To learn more about Celiac’s Disease, click here.
I was not at all prepared for post-partum. Baby blues, yes. Well, as prepared as one can be. Unable to function, no.
Neither was I prepared for my back to continue hurting. For my skin to get so dry and itchy. For my math skills to be reduced to anything in sets of four but nothing else.
Okay, in all fairness, my math skills were highly lacking before the pregnancy.
So with all that, I wasn’t really surprised when my tummy “issues” got worse. I’ve never had a wonderful system in that area. And while I feel blessed to have traveled down the road of infertility, honestly, I find very little about a whacked out digestive system over which to feel blessed.
By July, I found myself lying on the floor of Pumpkin’s nursery after a particularly delicious dinner of steak and baked potato. I was in a little pain. And I swear I thought I would pass out. Mom and Dad were in town visiting and they were not at all thrilled that I had been feeling this way and pretty much ignoring it.
I am not a very good patient.
Along comes Fall. I have now, through the process of elimination, figured out I can eat Slim Fast meal bars, chicken and rice without getting sick. I would eat two bars for breakfast, a quarter roasted chicken and rice from the restaurant at work for lunch and a bar for dinner.
Awesome for post-baby weight loss. Bad for running long runs. Horrible for a self-professed food-lover.
September is also Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month.
What? You didn’t celebrate.
It was in all my magazines and most of them listed symptoms. Whadaya know, I had them all. I put on my hypochondriacal hat and googled the tar out of that. Managed to make myself more than a little worried. My saving thought was all those symptoms were for people in advanced stages of ovarian cancer. I reasoned since approximately 62 different people have poked and peaked at Lulu and Rita in the past two years, surely one of them would have seen cancer.
Right?
Yeah, I made an appointment.
Off I go to the OB who listened to all my symptoms and then proceeded to feel up Lulu and Rita. Afterward, he announced that no, I did not have ovarian cancer but it could be a colon thing.
And I kid you not, my first thought was “Great. Now I have to name my colon.”
My second thought was okay, good. Because I’m not at all sure how I’d look bald.
Third thought was I need to google colon cancer. Bald is beautiful.
On to the gastroenterologist.
He was fabulous. Honestly. He listened to all my craziness and never asked to hand inspect my colon. He asked a bazillion questions. I mean I listed all kinds of stuff because the man even asked if my skin had been itching.
Really? How’d you know that?
He says “It might be Celiac’s”.
Me and my degree from the University of Google Medicine said, “Nah, I already looked into that. All the stuff you’re not supposed to eat is all the stuff I’ve used to ward off my IBS symptoms.”
And then he says, “If it’s okay with you, I’d still like to do a quick blood test to make sure.”
Ah. Such a sweet man to ask my permission to prove me right.
And I was wrong.
The next week the nurse calls and says, “Well, the test for Celiac’s came back positive.”
Me: Nah-ah.
Nurse: Yeah! It’s a rare diagnosis for us so we’re kind of excited.
Me: So glad I could bring some joy to your day.
And then I laughed. Because really, why not. After you’ve been down the infertile road, I’m not sure anything about my body could faze me. It’s all possible.
I called Chris. Said, “Gluten-free here we come”. He said, “We got this”. Then he said, “It’s not cancer so we can handle anything else”.
Five minutes later he emailed me to say he was panicked about eating dressing at Thanksgiving. I assured him that even though I could not have any, I felt positive Dad would still cook it.
Crisis averted.
Now I am scheduled for the final test to confirm the diagnosis. A scope and biopsy. My only question was “They’ll knock me out for that, right?” Not gonna lie. I can handle most anything as long as I’m knocked out.
Hopefully, we’ll have the results from that before Thanksgiving but I’m not waiting until then. I have an entire diet overhaul to accomplish here. And a name to pick out.
Research says it’s not so much my colon as it is my small intestine. So I was thinking about Suzy. What do you think?
My colon would have been Chuck. Because I couldn’t resist that. It was a little odd to think about my colon as male but it just made more sense. He hurts.
But now we know it’s Suzy that hurts but only because I’ve been poisoning her with bread, pasta, cake, pizza, cookies and cereal.
So I’d like for us all to give a warm welcome to Suzy.
Hiiii Sssuuuuzzzyyyy.
While ya’ll are introducing yourselves to her, I’ll be in the pantry cleaning out everything I can’t eat. Which pretty much means everything in the pantry. Be on the lookout for a fair well party honoring Oatmeal Crème Pies, Oreo Cookies, White Bread, Ritz Crackers, Fuzzy’s Chips & Queso and Ice Cream Sandwiches later on. Invitations should be in the mail soon.
To learn more about Celiac’s Disease, click here.
Wow, Robin...I had no idea!! I'm so happy you found the cause of your pain, but still. I'll be praying it's a smooth transition, and that you feel 100% amazing SOON!!
ReplyDeleteMy mission over the next few weeks to make a fantastic gluten free dessert for Thanksgiving. Something so yummy we will say, "Gluten, who needs it."
ReplyDeleteOh my gosh, Robin. You must have been in some pretty serious pain lately. I kept thinking about Elizabeth Hasselbeck on The View because she has Celiac too. Not only am I thankful that it is not cancer, but I am thankful that you are a smart enough wife and mommy to get thyself to the doctor. I'll be on the lookout for yummy things for you to eat. Please keep us updated.
ReplyDelete