I thought this may be a good place to post since I may be able to help someone else.
I started getting sick while pregnant with my second child in 1996. I had severe gastrointestinal problems, the sight and smell of food made me sick. If I did eat, it would come right back up nearly every time. I LOST 30 lbs while pregnant, I had plenty to lose and fortunately there were no I'll affects on my baby boy who was born healthy as a horse and weighing 8 lbs. He was born on All Saints Day, November 1st
anyway, the whole time I was pregnant, my doctor kept telling me my tummy troubles were just from the pregnancy and after the baby was born, I should get my appetite back in no time. Well, the appetite did come back. I felt ravaged all the time and when I ate, it all came right back up. By Christmas Eve, I was in the ER with severe abdominal pain. Christmas day, tests, nothing. Sent home. January 2nd, I was back at the ER with pain 10x worse than having a baby. After a few tests and an ultra sound, I was rushed to surgery to have a ruptured gall bladder removed. I was released from the hospital 14 days later after the drs were sure they had all the infection out. It took a few months to heal from the surgery, instead of just a few weeks. The doc said that was because I was still weak from giving births and being a little malnourished. By late 1997, I was feeling some better but still tired all the time, which I attributed to having a 5 yr old and an almost 1 yr old baby. To condense a few years I will give you the highlights..
Depression set in late '97. In the spring of 98, my husband decided he liked other women better than me. By November 98, I had packed myself and my kids and moved across the country. So, 1999, I was a young single mom who moved halfway across the country, living with no support group, 2 small children, working and trying to hold it all together. I met a man (now my new husband) that spring. He helped me so much with the kids, talked me into going to therapy, if for nothing else than just the "me" time with no screaming kids, landlords or bosses. I got a little better emotionally but physically I was totally exhausted. Every year I seemed to be getting worse.
Fast forward to 2006. I was tired, exhausted, beat down, depressed and now starting to have pain in strange places on my body. Even the slightest touch on my arms would cause pain. My back hurt, my knees hurt, my feet cramped all the time, my hands and fingers hurt so bad I could hardly hold an ink pen. My husband had to take over the cooking because we were afraid I would drop hot food and burn someone really bad. I had constant migraines that would put me in bed for days. I quit my job, because I just couldn't go anymore. I had three allergic reactions to something while helping with yard work, we don't know what. I ended up in the ER with a nice Epi pen as parting gift because the last episode nearly killed me. That's when the doctor visits started regularly. To the GP, tons of testing, blood work is perfect, can't find anything wrong with me. Still massive pain and getting worse every day. By 2008, I was seeing a rheumatologist. It was getting so bad, my husband was having to help me get out of bed in the mornings. I can remember the day he said to me infrustration, "Damn, I feel liked I'm married to an 80 year old woman. Something has got to change" I was only 36 years old. Doctor after doctor, test after test, clean results every time. Nobody had any clue what was wrong with me. My rheumatologist didn't even give me a firm diagnosis of anything, no markers for arthritis, I had 11 fibromyalgia pressure points, but nothing else. Couldn't find a medication that would kick the migraines. Year after year after year this went on until my husband suggested that I go back to a therapist. Maybe it is just severe depression.
On my good occasional pain free days, I had absolutely no symptoms and no depression. We noticed a pattern that it seemed to get worse in the winter. Maybe it was seasonal affective disorder... Maybe...
So I start going to the therapist 4 days a week in 2010. I got nothing better to do than work on me, so I requested a lot of time. By this point, I had so much self doubt in the things that had happened in my life, my self esteem was completely gone. I couldn't work, couldn't clean house, couldn't take care of my kids, most days I couldn't even get out of bed or stay awake for more than just a few hours. Ms. Therapist requested my medical records, I brought my file box to her. She spent the hour paging through and asking me questions. She asked me if she could keep my box until the next appointment. Sure, whatever. On appointment #5, she says to me, let's discuss your diet. So we talk about food for the next hour. As I am getting ready to go she tells me that I need to go see a gastrointerologist and request a test for celiac disease. So I did. Nope, no celiac disease BUT I do have an intolerance for gluten. Not the full blown disease, just an intolerance.
But the doc says, "this is still serious! An intolerance to gluten can be just as bad. Your body is not absorbing the proper nutrition and it can't elimate waste correctly either. You are slowly poisoning yourself with food!!"
And you know what? He was right. I met with a dietician and nutritionist. We ransacked my kitchen pantry. I had to learn how to cook all over again, without wheat, actually without a lot of things. Do you know how many products contain wheat. Nearly everything if it is packaged. Within two months, I was completely pain free, happy, smiling, laughing, playing. My husband actually told me, that it was finally nice to meet the real me after knowing me for 11 years and being married to me for 7 years.
Now, two years later, I am still pain free. I no longer get severe migraines, back, knee, feet and hand pain. It's all gone. All gone because I don't eat gluten. I do slip every now and then, even though I know I shouldn't. I know it's going to have me doubled over with abdominal pain within a matter of minutes, but sometimes the mouth just wants to taste a chocolate chip cookie, or eat a piece of birthday cake or Grandma's biscuits and gravy. I cave and then I repent to my body. The cravings for those foods are becoming less and less. Hopefully, in time, I will become a responsible person with my body.
Even if they hurt me, Cookies still have a special place in my heart.
I started getting sick while pregnant with my second child in 1996. I had severe gastrointestinal problems, the sight and smell of food made me sick. If I did eat, it would come right back up nearly every time. I LOST 30 lbs while pregnant, I had plenty to lose and fortunately there were no I'll affects on my baby boy who was born healthy as a horse and weighing 8 lbs. He was born on All Saints Day, November 1st
anyway, the whole time I was pregnant, my doctor kept telling me my tummy troubles were just from the pregnancy and after the baby was born, I should get my appetite back in no time. Well, the appetite did come back. I felt ravaged all the time and when I ate, it all came right back up. By Christmas Eve, I was in the ER with severe abdominal pain. Christmas day, tests, nothing. Sent home. January 2nd, I was back at the ER with pain 10x worse than having a baby. After a few tests and an ultra sound, I was rushed to surgery to have a ruptured gall bladder removed. I was released from the hospital 14 days later after the drs were sure they had all the infection out. It took a few months to heal from the surgery, instead of just a few weeks. The doc said that was because I was still weak from giving births and being a little malnourished. By late 1997, I was feeling some better but still tired all the time, which I attributed to having a 5 yr old and an almost 1 yr old baby. To condense a few years I will give you the highlights..Depression set in late '97. In the spring of 98, my husband decided he liked other women better than me. By November 98, I had packed myself and my kids and moved across the country. So, 1999, I was a young single mom who moved halfway across the country, living with no support group, 2 small children, working and trying to hold it all together. I met a man (now my new husband) that spring. He helped me so much with the kids, talked me into going to therapy, if for nothing else than just the "me" time with no screaming kids, landlords or bosses. I got a little better emotionally but physically I was totally exhausted. Every year I seemed to be getting worse.
Fast forward to 2006. I was tired, exhausted, beat down, depressed and now starting to have pain in strange places on my body. Even the slightest touch on my arms would cause pain. My back hurt, my knees hurt, my feet cramped all the time, my hands and fingers hurt so bad I could hardly hold an ink pen. My husband had to take over the cooking because we were afraid I would drop hot food and burn someone really bad. I had constant migraines that would put me in bed for days. I quit my job, because I just couldn't go anymore. I had three allergic reactions to something while helping with yard work, we don't know what. I ended up in the ER with a nice Epi pen as parting gift because the last episode nearly killed me. That's when the doctor visits started regularly. To the GP, tons of testing, blood work is perfect, can't find anything wrong with me. Still massive pain and getting worse every day. By 2008, I was seeing a rheumatologist. It was getting so bad, my husband was having to help me get out of bed in the mornings. I can remember the day he said to me infrustration, "Damn, I feel liked I'm married to an 80 year old woman. Something has got to change" I was only 36 years old. Doctor after doctor, test after test, clean results every time. Nobody had any clue what was wrong with me. My rheumatologist didn't even give me a firm diagnosis of anything, no markers for arthritis, I had 11 fibromyalgia pressure points, but nothing else. Couldn't find a medication that would kick the migraines. Year after year after year this went on until my husband suggested that I go back to a therapist. Maybe it is just severe depression.
On my good occasional pain free days, I had absolutely no symptoms and no depression. We noticed a pattern that it seemed to get worse in the winter. Maybe it was seasonal affective disorder... Maybe...
So I start going to the therapist 4 days a week in 2010. I got nothing better to do than work on me, so I requested a lot of time. By this point, I had so much self doubt in the things that had happened in my life, my self esteem was completely gone. I couldn't work, couldn't clean house, couldn't take care of my kids, most days I couldn't even get out of bed or stay awake for more than just a few hours. Ms. Therapist requested my medical records, I brought my file box to her. She spent the hour paging through and asking me questions. She asked me if she could keep my box until the next appointment. Sure, whatever. On appointment #5, she says to me, let's discuss your diet. So we talk about food for the next hour. As I am getting ready to go she tells me that I need to go see a gastrointerologist and request a test for celiac disease. So I did. Nope, no celiac disease BUT I do have an intolerance for gluten. Not the full blown disease, just an intolerance.
But the doc says, "this is still serious! An intolerance to gluten can be just as bad. Your body is not absorbing the proper nutrition and it can't elimate waste correctly either. You are slowly poisoning yourself with food!!"
And you know what? He was right. I met with a dietician and nutritionist. We ransacked my kitchen pantry. I had to learn how to cook all over again, without wheat, actually without a lot of things. Do you know how many products contain wheat. Nearly everything if it is packaged. Within two months, I was completely pain free, happy, smiling, laughing, playing. My husband actually told me, that it was finally nice to meet the real me after knowing me for 11 years and being married to me for 7 years.
Now, two years later, I am still pain free. I no longer get severe migraines, back, knee, feet and hand pain. It's all gone. All gone because I don't eat gluten. I do slip every now and then, even though I know I shouldn't. I know it's going to have me doubled over with abdominal pain within a matter of minutes, but sometimes the mouth just wants to taste a chocolate chip cookie, or eat a piece of birthday cake or Grandma's biscuits and gravy. I cave and then I repent to my body. The cravings for those foods are becoming less and less. Hopefully, in time, I will become a responsible person with my body.
Even if they hurt me, Cookies still have a special place in my heart.
