You know Oprah can say whatever she wants that 50 is the new 40 and that her life has changed for the better after reaching that point, I say bull shit. I don't think I am a pessimist, I try to see the light at the end of most tunnels, but why do most tunnels seem a bit longer than others.
This little adventure, [do you see me trying to see the bright side in calling it an adventure] started in February, 2008. I was going for my physical, which reminds me that someone also told me they never go for a physical, because that's when the big bad doctor tells you "you are sick," where before you know you were feeling just fine. I did however have a pain in my chest. Just prior to this I had just turned 50. I thought from the birthday experience that I was having heart problems. After having a ct scan, they diagnosed that I had gall stones and needed my gallbladder removed.
Yes I panicked. My husband says "I am a worry wort," but you know after doing a lot of defense work with medical malpractice cases I realized that anything could go including my life. I was calmed down by the most gorgeous doctor. It had nothing to do with his medical background, in fact if I had died I probably would have thanked him for just being over me at the time of my death. He reassured me that I could live with more than half of my organs gone, he didn't however tell me what side effects and residual I would have from my gall bladder being deleted from the system. I went through the procedure with flying colors until eating KFC one night my system shut down with a major case of bathroom jaunts. I soon realized that my body was not going to be the same.
In August of 2009 my husband and I went to a home tour and I slipped on a wet sandstone sidewalk. After rolling around in the rain I finally got home and in spite of the pain I thought I would be fine. This was the beginning of the ongoing. Two weeks later I decided to go see my orthopedic doctor to make sure that all of my joints were working for the ski season including my very painful leg. He then informed me that I did indeed break my leg, the back bone in my calf. It was stable so no cast.
Due to my broken leg I had been on 1000 mg. of Tylenol and 400 mg of Advil almost every 4 to 6 hours for two months. In October I started with a major case of a cold with a sinus infection, so I checked myself into the doctor's and of course all of the female ailments came out. He ran a series of blood tests and found out that my liver enzymes were elevated and also I was at the peak of menopause. It reassured me that my physical problems weren't just in my head, but were also in my actual body. He suggested having a ct scan of my abdomen.
In late October my boss from Denver called and said he was closing the Denver office and that I needed to fly over and ship all of the furniture and files back to the main office. Not only was I emotionally upset by this, but two days later I found out I was very sick. I had this bulge out of the right side of my stomach and I thought oh my liver was worse than I thought and I hadn't had the ct scan done on it yet. I was so worried I would be in Denver and have something extremely wrong. I immediately called my doctor and he reassured me that nothing would happen, my liver wasn't about to blow up. He reassured me that if something did go wrong I would be close to a hospital, but you know it is hard enough being in a hospital some distance away from your home little alone states away.
When I got to Denver I did fine, but I realized I was very uncomfortable.
For the next several months I realized that every time I ate anything beyond 2 tablespoons I would get noxiously sick. The ct scan had been performed in November and to find out I had been diagnosed with a fatty liver. I first took offense to it thinking it was because I was over weight, but I soon found out that even skinny people could have it. It could be created from drugs, overeating, a variety of things. They thought because of the high doses of pain killer due to my leg that this is what caused it. They still wanted to do an endoscopy to make sure the only thing wrong with me. Since the late date in the year I decided to push the procedure into January so that I would concentrate on the holidays and not on my physical issues.
The first thing on the agenda in January was my endoscopy. That procedure was so mild compared to a colonscopy or ct scan. The colonscopy was this horrible tasting liquid with a full day of having bathroom issues. The ct scan had better tasting liquid, but the amount that you had to drink and with my texture gage reflex over anything in bulk that tastes like a milk shake, it was hard to swallow. The endoscopy was no food after midnight, take a shot and go into a Michael Jackson trance for an hour and enjoy the ride. It was great.
After the procedure the doctor told me that I had gastritis of the stomach, which is an inflammation and swelling of the stomach, which he again attributed to the pain killers. He put me on a diet of low fat and no fiber. That diagnosis has eliminated any fresh fruits or vegetables. Also elimination of low fat food and no more than 2 oz of meat at any given meal. I knew I had to do something or I was going to feel really crappy for a long time if not for the rest of my life. Plus gastritis can turn into cancer, and I remember just feeling absolutely depressed of thinking I will never again be able to enjoy food. I wasn't a great cook, but I at least enjoyed other people's cooking and I felt cheated, but I remember turning to my husband and saying "I refuse to die over food." When you say it that way, you realize how stupid food really is.
My diet consisted of three phases. First phase, 1/2 cup of Gatorade for my electrolytes with a 1/2 cup of some kind of non-diet drink for my carbohydrates, 3/4 cup of broth with 6 saltine crackers for some bulk and salt [3 times a day for two to three days]. Then you slowly increase your food to having an egg and some canned fruit for breakfast, little meat with some kind of starch (no fiber starch such as wild or brown rice), and some vegetables for lunch and dinner. The third phase was basically adding other foods such as a starch or breads (just not whole wheat or any other fiber) and more frequent meals so you would end up with 6 small meals a day.
Another set back was when I got the actual report back from the doctor saying that I might have celiac disease. I remember reading it and feeling even more depressed thinking not only do I have to live this fat and fiber free diet, but now the elimination of wheat. I tried to stop myself from crying by telling myself that at least it wasn't cancer. I still cried.
Last and final procedure was done in March. I had a liver biopsy to make sure it really was a fatty liver and not something worse. The build up procedure and recovery before and after the actual biopsy was a bigger deal, than the less than two minute procedure. Not that a doctor doesn't have a lot of liability in playing with the liver, but I thought he just got how much for seeing me less than a few minutes. But I got a weekend of laying around the house, not doing anything to not disturb that pin hole from the biopsy.
So after much reading and learning of my different diseases, "menopausal, fat free, gluten free, fiberless stomach and fatty liver lady" I could have avoided at least two of these if I just had accepted the pain from my broken leg as being healthy. The celiac disease on the other hand supposedly was inherited. Thank goodness for ancestors. It was said that celiac disease came from those Irish that was effected from the potato famine. We won't die from a nuclear war, civilization will be phased out from all the bad diseases that come from bad food and drugs that we don't even know about.
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