Thursday, October 13, 2011

God Bless Your Celiac

Long story short: I've been diagnosed with Celiac Disease. And now I don't know what on earth I'm allowed to eat except eggs.

I'm more of what you'd call a silent sufferer because I don't really have any symptoms, per se -- I'm tired all the time (but I blame that on the kids) and I'm usually walking around with an upset stomach (which I've always blamed on stress and anxiety).

I would have totally put my money on colon cancer but the doctor said my colon looked beautiful -- (he really needs to get out more) -- except for the internal hemorrhoids. (Yes, I'm keeping them.)
[Side note: Dotter totally added my name to the prayer list at school. "Aww! That's so sweet! For what?" "For your celiac and hemorrhoids."]

Anyway, the upper endoscopy I had Monday showed I have something called Barrett's Esophagus as well as confirmed Celiac.

I was talked to today about the importance of adhering to a strict gluten free diet and provided a Forbidden Foods list which looked like it had everything in the world printed on it. Then there was a Safe Foods list and the only thing I recognized on it was eggs.

So, I guess I'm on an egg diet.

Don't sit too close to me.

Feel free to pool your monetary resources and send me a personal chef. Or maybe just print me off a realistic and simplistic menu of things I can eat besides eggs. Please, God, let cinnamon gummy bears be on that list.

I've searched the web and dude! Everything's so technical! I just want a simple school lunch menu kind of thing to start out with. If everything's out, then what's in? To everyone in the Celiac world already, how on earth did you maneuver through this without a PhD?

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Photo Recovery Miracles! How to find those pictures after you accidently deleted them.

Ever have one of those days where you can't talk because you're absolutely emotionally bankrupt? Like, let's say your daughter turned 10, which is a super huge deal - double digits, yo! And you always make a HUGE deal about Birthday Days - the day you celebrate a birthday, just Mommy & Daughter, doing fun things together because it's about the love, and not about those sticky pawed, drooling sugar-high kids you're forced to entertain and be responsible for if you were one of those mothers who hosted an actual birthday party? And you always make a HUGE deal about the fact you're building memories together and that's why you have to take 3,487 pictures and print them out in a birthday album because the Gift Of Memory Keeps On Giving!

And then, after you enjoy your day, you tell someone else to look at your pictures but they say there's none on your camera and you're like of course there is. I took them. They've got to be there. Only when you get to the camera they're not there. Like, at all.

And then you panic and cry and feel like a total schmuck ...

But then, 'lo and behold! Someone tells you about this magical stuff called Photo Recovery Software.

And you buy it for $39.00.

And it takes all day to recover your photos. No, really. All day long the computer is whirring in the background sifting through corrupted files on your digital camera trying to save your sorry mothering butt by finding one photo - any photo - from the day's events....

And finally a little box pops up on your computer screen that says Recovery Successful! Yes, with an exclamation point!

And you rejoice!

REJOICE!!

But then you look at the bazillion recovered photos and realize (1) you have taken a ridiculous amount of photos in the past two years and (2) the birthday photos are not on here. I repeat: THE BIRTHDAY PHOTOS ARE NOT ON HERE!

And then you feel like crying. Again. Because you were so close.

So close to saving the day.

So close to making things right.

So close to salvaging something. Anything.

And your shoulders slump.

And a tension headache erupts at the base of your brain stem.

And you wonder how expensive it would be to pay an artist to make renderings of the Birthday Day.

And then you think, "huh. I wonder if there's like another folder or something those pictures could have accidently moved into."

And so you look at your camera closer.

But you don't see anything.

Except the fact that the little battery door thing isn't locked.

It's closed. But not locked.

So you open it.

And you see that cute little memory card sticking out and you think, "gosh, I'm glad I saw this! It'd be a shame if it fell out" and then you snap it into place.

And, 'lo and behold -- looky there. All those pictures you took on Birthday Day are on that little memory card after all. It was just that the stupid piece of plastic wasn't snapped into place and now you just wasted $39.00 for photo recovery software you don't need and that could have gone a long way towards printing those pictures out and putting them in an album for the kid.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

And this is EXACTLY why you should never make major decisions after conscious sedation.

I had a colonoscopy and upper endoscopy yesterday. That meant they went in both ends - but not at the same time because that might get the camera tubes all tangled up, and what a mess that would be. They went down my throat first - which is good, because since I was asleep I couldn't be certain they didn't use the same camera tube for both ends, know what I mean? Just in case they did I wanted to make sure they went through my mouth first.

I wasn't totally asleep though. More like hanging out after having way too much to drink. They call it conscious sedation. I call it my sophomore year of college. Basically I could talk, communicate and respond to verbal clues, but had to rely on others to tell me what the hell I did that I couldn't remember. I wasn't allowed to operate heavy machinery, go up or down stairs or sign any legal documents for the remainder of the day. Probably because I was going to be hungover.

First they had to numb my throat (so I wouldn't freak out and think I was choking on a tube). The nurse told me it was like that Chloraseptic® spray you use for a sore throat... then she whipped out a can of WD-40 and sprayed it in the back of my throat. Okay, so it wasn't really WD-40 but it sure as hell tasted like something you'd spray on an engine. And because I was a complete baby and gagged and coughed and sputtered the second it hit my throat they had to go in for Round 2. Which meant I was forced to taste more of that crap. Also, because I gagged and coughed and sputtered my nose, lips and face were also numb. Needless to say, I drooled. A lot.

Then the nurse said, "we're starting the sedation now" and I said "oh! I feel it! It's cold in my arm!" and the nurse said, "good, it a few minutes you'll feel -----"

And then I woke up in the recovery room, sitting up, looking at a food tray displaying a fruit danish, a glass of water and a glass of juice. That sedation worked like magic!

Before they released me to go home I had to walk a lap around the recovery room floor. Arm in arm I went with my most favorite nurse ever! and giggled as I stumbled into her and slurred this is just like college! I'm pretty sure I was her most favorite patient of the day.

On the way home I threw up all over my mom's car door. Twice.

I'm pretty sure I was not her most favorite patient of the day.

Then I went home and fell into bed. It was 11:30am. Or at least I think it was.

I woke up just before 4pm, when I heard Dotter exclaim she's in here! followed by Mom, where's your car? After a few hazy minutes trying to come to, I realized my mother and my 10-year old were attempting to explain that my car was not in the garage, nor in the driveway. That it was, in fact, gone. Missing. Stolen.

Where did I last have my car? In the garage.

Were the keys in it? Yes.

Did you leave the overhead door open? I don't think so. I don't remember how I got into the house, so maybe. Maybe I did.

Any chance Big V would have it? If he did his truck would be here.

Was anyone else here? The Teen Bean was. She brought me a Coke. Should I call the police??

Hold on. Let's talk to the [ahem... unlicensed] Bean first. See if she knows anything.

....

Teen Text:  In practice. You okay?

My Text:  Did you steal my car?

Teen Text:  Steal? Noo! I asked you and you said ok and I said thank you! And gave you a hug and left.

My Text:  I don't remember any of that. I'm all doped up; why would you ever THINK that was okay?

Teen Text:  I'm sorry you're doped on drugs but we were talking and I thought you were fine. Sorry for the miscommunication.

My Text: It's NOT a miscommunication. YOU TOOK A CAR WITHOUT A LICENSE. I don't think the police will think you're "miscommunicating."

Teen Text: oh yeah. I forgot haha but I'm a good driver and I drive all the time. I get my license in like 30 days. Sorry ma! Feel better and I looovee u! And you can trust me. I won't get in trouble.

My Text: You just did! YOU. TOOK. A. CAR. WITHOUT. A. LICENSE!

Teen Text: You told me ok.... I'm sorry... If you're that mad about it I guess I won't ever even ask you again.

My Text: It shouldn't even BE a question: YOU DON'T HAVE A LICENSE!

Teen Text:  Fine. Pasta Dinner tonight at [Jane Doe's] - can I go?

My Text: What kind of alternate universe do you live in?