Author Archives: Molly

Jul 31 2013
3 Comments
Breadcrumbs in the wilderness, Really long posts

The big 6

On Monday, July 29th, I intended to write about a momentous milestone in my life. But I wasn’t sure what to say that I haven’t said already before.

Finally, at the end of the day, feeling the need to mark the date, I went with, in the manner of all aspiring and procrastinating writers today, a Tweet: “As of today I’ve been gluten-free for 6 months. That calls for cake.”

If you’re into brevity, you might want to stop there. (But if that’s the case, I’m not sure why you put up with my blog in general.)

In response to my proclamation, probably picking up on the mention of cake, one Twitter buddy asked me if I ever cheat. We’ll come back to that one.

Another response came from Wendy of Palm Trees and Gluten Free, who wrote to congratulate me. She said, “It’s amazing how that date becomes as important as a birthday!”

I hadn’t thought of it that way, but it’s true. As on a birthday, I had that uneasy sense that I should feel different but don’t. Despite the importance we give to the occasion, a birthday usually doesn’t, in itself, represent a step forward. Sure, a few do grant you special privileges, like your 21st or 18th or 13th (if your parents truly didn’t allow PG-13 movies before then, that is). But by now, the majority of that kind of birthday is already behind me.

Instead, I’ve entered into that vast, undifferentiated stretch of road called adulthood, where birthdays are just markers of another year’s worth of life experience, thought of so rarely that I often can’t remember how old I am right away when asked. A birthday just means another year has passed. Not all at once, but second by second by second until 31,556,926 have fled.

Similarly, although six months’ worth of gluten freedom is a milestone of sorts, there was no reason to think that on the morning of July 29th I would wake up a changed person. Any change between the 28th and the 29th would have been so incremental as to be unremarkable. What’s important is the accumulation of improvements (however piddling) and experience over the course of those six months. Just like a birthday, this day meant no more than that I had made it a certain unknown percentage of the way through my gluten-free life.

As with a birthday, the amount of time the 29th marked seems simultaneously much shorter and much longer than it had really been. Shorter because, as has been observed again and again by writers more eloquent than I, it is in the nature of time to appear shorter when viewed backward than forward.

Longer because January 29th, the day of my official celiac diagnosis, wasn’t the first time I ditched wheat, barley, and rye. Almost three years before, I’d experimented with a diet low in pretty much everything thought to be tough on the gut (that’d be FODMAPs, and includes wheat, rye, and barley); I’d dabbled in “low-gluten” eating (which is basically a joke); and I’d done a whole-hog six-week gluten-free diet trial half a year before. Although it’s been six months of celiac-induced GFdom, gluten has been on my mind for longer.

Also because it’s been an intense six months. “I’m not sick because I’m stressed; I’m stressed because I’m sick”—how many times have I made that response? I still think it’s true, but it turns out not to be true that a diagnosis and prescription could take my stress away (hum that to the tune of the Berlin song). The certainty has eased some worries but added others: that the healing isn’t moving fast or far enough, that X, Y, or Z might have gluten in it, that I’m driving everyone crazy by talking about it all the time.

In honor of this date, I originally thought I might reveal all of my celiac symptoms on this blog (which you may or may not have noticed I’ve been quiet about, even as I bemoan our collective inability to talk about some of them). This wasn’t because you likely have any desire to know them but because I felt it would be terribly satisfying to cross off all those that had gone away.

But, after the sixth month, the truth is that few of what I believe to be celiac symptoms have actually resolved themselves. The gastro stuff is getting better, a little, but I still don’t know if the rest even are celiac symptoms. All I’ve gotten so far are “maybe”s and “we’ll see”s. To list what remains would be to jinx it.

So instead, dear readers, on this belated half-anniversary of my gluten-free rebirth, I leave you with only a promise: that six months, or twelve, or eighteen, or however many it takes from now, I will have crossed off more of that list. That I will not again succumb to the kind of complacency about my own well being that led to three years without a diagnosis. That I will beat this thing.

And—to answer my friend on Twitter—that no matter how long it takes, and how long it seems to take, under no circumstances and for no reason will I ever “cheat.”

Not even for cake.

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Jul 26 2013
10 Comments
Breadcrumbs in the wilderness

How many crumbs would a wood table suck if a wood table could suck up crumbs?

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you probably already have a sense of this, but let me remind you: I’m kind of an anxious person.

That said, I’m also a forgetful person. This combination means that sometimes I forget to be anxious until after something has already happened. It’s like my brain decides, “Hang on a second, I didn’t hear your heart racing. Let’s try that again.”

Throughout my school years, this tendency manifested itself in anxiety dreams about tests and report cards after I’d already received my grades. And, not to brag, but they were generally good ones—so what was I so worried about? Today, I keep up the tradition at work by hitting “send” on emails only to immediately scroll through them to check for typos or misaddressed salutations or other pernicious little errors—too late to take it back, but not too late to stress about it.

And, of course, if I run out of fodder for my after-the-fact fretting, there’s always gluten.

Take this recent example: my sister and I bought a table.

“What’s so stressful about that?,” you might ask (if you didn’t read the post’s title, that is; otherwise, you’ve probably already guessed, you smartypants, you). Here’s what’s stressful about that:

It’s a used table.

A used wooden table.

Now, a used wooden table is not in and of itself stressful. In fact, when my sister and I were at the store picking it out, I was quite relaxed. We spotted the table almost right away, so I didn’t have to worry we wouldn’t find one that day. We’d thought to take measurements of our kitchen before heading out, so I didn’t have to worry that it wouldn’t fit. We haggled down the price a bit and got some chairs thrown into the bargain, so I didn’t have to worry about price. And Salvation Army delivers—every few weeks, at least—so we didn’t have to worry about transport.

I didn’t even think to worry about gluten.

But yesterday, the table arrived (no returns allowed), and all of a sudden I thought to worry. People (including me) throw out wooden spoons and cutting boards after diagnosis, after all. How many times have you read that “wood is a porous material that can trap small amounts of gluten” (on sites like About.com). Wood is pretty much the first thing to go, after, you know, the sack of semolina you’ve been hoarding to make your own pasta with one day. And here I’d gone and introduced a big hunk of used wood right into my gluten-free kitchen sanctuary.

I thought it over. Just how much gluten could be in that table? Had its previous owners used it as a cutting board for bread, or rolled out cookies directly on its surface? Was there a baby in its former home who mashed her cereal—or Play-Doh—into its wooden grains? Did the family eat dumplings or empanadas or pierogies at this table? Pasta or pizza or pie dough? And how much of it, if so, would have gotten into the table itself? Was the table, even now, dropping crumbs onto the floor beneath it? (It didn’t seem to be…but gluten is small.) Would I gluten myself just by touching the table or eating at it? Should we leave it wrapped in the plastic in which it came? Or should I simply avoid eating at my own table? If I didn’t, would I steadily lose the gains I’ve made, and gain the antibodies I’ve lost?

In short: What. Had. We. Done?

I chewed my lip, wrung my hands, and ambushed my sister the moment she got home from work.

“We have a table!” she said, happily.

“Yeah!” I said, feigning cheeriness just for a moment. Then I dropped the ruse. “What if it has gluten on it?” I said.

My sister—clever, even-keeled sister—thought that one over for about half a second, and replied, “Well, we could just eat off of plates. And maybe use a tablecloth.”

Oh.

Right.

People use plates and tablecloths, don’t they? Somewhat regularly, even. Nice, comforting things, plates and tablecloths: things through which gluten—real or imaginary—cannot penetrate.

Feeling foolish, I nodded. “Yes, or placemats.”

“Placemats,” Althea agreed decisively. “I like that.”

With that, all my buyer’s remorse and postmortem nerves—suddenly as silly seeming as any of those report card nightmares in the light of day—evaporated.

Well, almost.

When buying secondhand, there’s always one thing left to worry about: that is, of course, bedbugs.

Indulge me with your thoughts on whether, say, an Udi’s cookie dropped onto a washed wooden table should be considered cross-contaminated, or tell me about the last time you made a mountain out of a molehill. Otherwise, have a worry-free weekend.

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Jul 24 2013
9 Comments
Gluten-Free Astrology

Gluten-Free Astrology: Leo (July 23 — August 22)

I’ve decided, after some deliberation, to skip Gluten-Free Leo. You’re full enough of yourselves as it is, and I’ve got better things to do. See ya next month for Virgo!

…Of course, I’m just kidding. You guys are great; no one could ever skip over you! You’re so fun! So lovable! So good looking! I just love to stroke that enormous ego—I mean, magnificent mane—of yours, my little lions. You’re even cuter when you purr.

Photo © Julie Egeland | Flickr

Photo © Julie Egeland | Flickr

Now that I’ve got your attention—and yes, flattery is the only foolproof way to gain the regal ear of a GF Leo—here’s what the constellations have to say about those glorious gluten-hating guts.

As a GF Leo, you have a big personality. You are magnetic, gregarious, bombastic, and extraordinarily charming—when you’re not making a huge pain of yourself with your equally extraordinary demands on the time and attention of everyone around you. Such demands strike you at least as reasonable, because you consider yourself the monarch of your own gluten-free kingdom (which, unlike in the Disney version, consists of all that the light touches and everything that’s left over).

As such, you don’t so much appreciate having your gluten-free needs met as expect it, regardless of venue, language barrier, amount (or absence) of advance notice, type of cuisine, and Yelp reviews. I mean, maybe they’ve glutened a peon or two, but they wouldn’t dare cross-contaminate your gluten-free sandwich, right? And, um, while they’re at it, would it kill them to refill your glass a little more often? You must have finished your Bard’s a full sixty seconds ago.

Photo © Luke Fritz | Flickr

Photo © Luke Fritz | Flickr

I don’t mean to be hard on you—I wouldn’t want to risk it, in fact. Like your Cancer horological neighbors, you’re pretty sensitive (to gluten and perceived slights alike)—but unlike the crab, you don’t hide your hurt away. Instead, your leonine pride, when crossed, erupts into a roaring, indignant wrath—although with appropriate groveling it dissipates quickly. (Upon accidental gluten consumption, GF Leos often display signs of the infamous “celiac rage,” which resolves itself most efficiently when a tender slave—uh, family member or friend—is there by their side to pet the pain away.)

GF Leo is associated with the back, the spine, and (naturally) the heart, so you may struggle with back pain or perhaps even scoliosis, which is thought by at least some researchers to be associated with celiac disease. Celiac disease has also been associated with greater risk of heart disease, although another study has found celiac disease to be linked with lower risk of heart disease. Rather like astrology, it’s all far too ambiguous and conflicting for you to care, even if you are affected by it.

GF Leos are much more concerned with the big picture and with taking control of it, whatever it may be. Though you aren’t exactly the type to work hard—you’re more into the playing part—you do love to lead and (I must admit) are often well suited to it. I hope that you use your interpersonal powers for good: GF Leos belong in politics pushing gluten-free labeling legislation through the maze of red tape, or at the head of the General Mills boardroom table figuring out how to make Cheerios gluten-free. Barring that, at the very least you should be getting out into your community and getting local business owners excited to provide gluten-free goods. Or maybe taking your GF agenda to the big screen or the stage, where your creativity and exuberance fit in perfectly. Much like your fellow famous GF Leos below, you live for the spotlight.

Bill Clinton

Bill Clinton

 Bill Clinton—you know all about him from my Presidents Day post. Yes, he’s (mostly) gluten-free; yes, he’s a Leo (born August 19th); and YES, he’s charming. Just ask M…okay, okay, I suppose he’s done his time for that one.

Madonna

 Madonna, born August 16th, 1958, is one of those GF celebs for whom the stars truly do seem perfect aligned. I mean, of course Madonna is a Leo. And of course Madonna has experimented with eating gluten-free (and had a joint gluten-free birthday party with her son, then turning ten). Did you ever doubt it?

Napoleon Bonaparte

Napoleon Bonaparte

 Napoleon Bonaparte, born August 15th, 1769, was not a GF Leo. He liked bread baskets, fried foods, pastries, and pasta. When it came to food, he was more inclined to efficiency than anything so frivolous as texture or taste. (In all fairness, he did keep himself pretty busy with typical Leo pursuits.)However, you may be intrigued to know that scientists (tired of attempting to solve living people’s health problems) determined in 2007 that Napoleon died of gastric cancer, possibly triggered by Helicobacter pylori infection. Given that H pylori does not seem to be more prevalent in people with celiac disease than anyone else, and that gastric cancer is one of very few cancers that celiac disease doesn’t seem to be associated with, all of this means, for our purposes, absolutely nothing. That said, if Napoleon were living today with longterm unexplained pain such as he must have experienced with an advanced case of stomach cancer, he’d almost certainly be trying a gluten-free diet, don’t you think?

I know you want to keep hearing all about YOU, but that’s all for now, folks.

As always, the “information,” such as it is, in this post has been largely ripped off from The Only Astrology Book You’ll Ever Need, by Joanna Martine Woolfolk, which is in fact the only astrology book you’ll ever need (need here being a relative term).

See also: Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer

Some of my closest friends are Leos, which means that every little joke I’ve made at their expense here is okay…right? If you’re a Leo whose pride this post has either hurt or soothed, let me know in the comments. And tell me what gluten-free passion projects you’ll be heading up this month, too.

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Jul 19 2013
7 Comments
Breadcrumbs in the wilderness

I’m drinking coffee again. But why?

You were all super supportive when I announced I was giving up coffee. Thank you.

Buoyed by that support, I made it all the way from May 12th to June 23rd: 6 weeks total. I was coffee-free for my birthday; my sister’s graduation; my move from my former apartment to my June sublet; many, many, many workdays; a few weekend nights later than I thought would be possible without caffeine…

And then I caved. One tiny espresso one day, a small midafternoon iced coffee the next, a large midafternoon iced coffee the next, and now here I am, up to two large iceds a day.

Up to here, I am not. Yet. Photo © Josh Greenstein | Flickr

Up to here, I am not. Yet.
Photo © Josh Greenstein | Flickr

Since you’ve been by my side since the start of this grave undertaking, I felt I owed you an explanation for my failure to continue. So here goes.


Why I’m back on coffee:

1. Because each cup is worth an hour of sleep.

2. Because it’s gluten-free.

a. And I’ve sacrificed enough.

3. Because it’s too hot not to drink iced coffee.

4. Because it’s good for the brain*.

a. And the heart.

i. And the liver.

A. And the gallbladder.

5. Because it prevents diabetes.

a. And cancer.

i. And depression.

A. And cavities.

6. And I can use all the help I can get.

7. Because I have a desk job, where not only is it okay if I get up to pee every 25 minutes, but it’s actually a welcome stretch break.

8. Because it’s cheap.

a. Except when I buy it from Birch.

i. And in that case it’s worth every penny.

9. Because it smells good.

a. And tastes good.

i. And makes me look good (black coffee—so cool).

10. Because espresso cups are adorable.

11. Because it’s referenced in my OkCupid profile, which I’m too lazy to change.

a. Because the reference makes coffee sound like such an integral part of my life that it’s awkward to explain I’m actually not drinking it right now.

i. Because coffee is an integral part of my life.

12. Because, turns out, coffee isn’t bad for (my) digestion.

13. Because it makes me think faster.

a. And type faster.

i. And speak faster.

A. And, potentially, live longer.

14. Because it’s better than aspirin.

15. Because I’m not drinking alcohol right now either, and meeting people for a cup of water was getting old.

16. Because the experiment also got old.

17. Because cross-reactivity is bogus.

18. Because it’s a valid form of self-care.

19. Because everyone else is doing it.

20. Because it (sort of) supports the livelihood of one hundred million people worldwide.

21. Because I don’t have to drink so much to feel effects anymore.

22. Because I reassured myself I could live without it.

23. Because I missed it anyway.

24. Because I wanna.

25. Because I can.


Why I’m not back on Diet Coke:

Come on.


Thanks again for your support! Anyone else give up (or take back) anything good lately?

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