Category Archives: Breadcrumbs in the wilderness

Mar 22 2013
11 Comments
Breadcrumbs in the wilderness

The kindness of strangers, and a springtime surprise

On February 10th, two important things happened: First, I started my blog. Then, I lost my wallet.

I’d gone out to try to buy a certain size screw that my roommate needed for the counter he was installing in the wall for my very own gluten-free use (my roommates are very supportive and all-around great guys). I’d known I had celiac disease for nearly two weeks, and the weekend before, despite firm intentions, I hadn’t accomplished much of my kitchen makeover. This particular Sunday, I was more motivated. Unfortunately, although I went to three different stores, I didn’t find the right screws. I did, though, manage to pick up a wide array of tupperware and cheap utensils—and drop my wallet.

When I realized what had happened, I frantically retraced my steps. I threw myself upon the cashiers’ mercy in all three stores; in all three stores, they shook their heads sadly. The ground was slushy that day, so a red wallet would have shown up easily; it wasn’t anywhere along my route. It wasn’t on or under the shelves in any of the stores where I’d bent to inspect kitchenware, either, or near any of the hardware sections where I’d put my hand into my pocket to pull out the too-small screw I’d brought for comparison and, most likely, knocked my wallet to the floor.

When I got home to check my bank balances, the debit card had already been used (wisely enough) for an unlimited monthly subway pass. I canceled my cards, submitted a lost-and-found report on the MTA website, and resigned myself to never seeing that wallet ever again.

After the initial shock and self-beration, I got over the loss pretty quickly. I hadn’t been carrying much cash, and cards can be canceled. And enough was going on already that this just didn’t feel like that big of a deal. I already had to redo my kitchen, rework my entire mode of socializing, and eat strictly gluten-free for life. What was one more inconvenience?

Over the weeks that followed, I realized that losing a wallet isn’t just one inconvenience; it’s many. Besides canceling the credit cards, there’s the driver’s license to replace, and a stolen wallet report to be filed at a police station if you want to  replace the license for free; there are the library cards, the laundry card, the store loyalty cards (nooo, not the CVS ExtraCare card!), and the coupons and gift cards you’ve been hoarding; there’s the MTA monthly pass you’d already bought, and the pre-tax prepaid commuter checks you were meant to use to buy more passes in the months ahead; there’s the health insurance card, as I remembered while sitting in the waiting room at my latest doctor’s appointment; and of course, there’s replacing the wallet itself.

Now, I’m a lazy person when it comes to this sort of personal maintenance thing. I barely made a dent in replacing most of the above. In fact, all I replaced right away were the debit/credit cards and the ExtraCare card—because these are basic necessities. I carried these cards, plus a pay-as-you-go MetroCard, in a Ziploc bag for about two weeks before finally buying a $5 wallet from a street vendor. I made overtures toward replacing my insurance card and promised myself to file that police report any day now. I believe that at no point—until now—did I mention to my parents I’d lost the wallet, because my mother has literally “told me so” that my wallet would fall out of my unzipped jacket pocket one day.

Now, I’m glad I moved slow. Because someone out there with a pure and beautiful soul returned my wallet and made it all unnecessary. The wallet slowly wended its way to the old Washington Heights address listed on my driver’s license and from there was forwarded on the winds of the US Postal Service to my current apartment door, where it arrived yesterday.

Photo on 3-21-13 at 9.49 PM #4

As a kid, I had this annoying habit of saying, “Just what I always wanted!” in response to every gift I opened ever, obliterating any real sentiment in the phrase through overuse. But when I pulled my faithful red wallet (with all its contents intact besides the cash and bank cards) out of the mysterious yellow package, it really was just what I’d always wanted—or, at least, what I’d wanted since February 10th. Up until that moment, yesterday hadn’t been the best day, but this made the end of it great. To whoever it was who returned the wallet—even if you were the same person who took the credit cards—thank you.

I know that yesterday I was joking about springtime, new beginnings, and messages from the stars, but this almost does feel like a sign that my luck is turning, that things are on the up and up. Even my laptop’s camera is working again.

The wallet also held an old fortune cookie slip that read, You have a potential urge and the ability for accomplishment. I’d forgotten all about it, but I think I saved it because I found it a funny, qualified fortune; “potential urge” and “ability for accomplishment” aren’t exactly the most ringing of endorsements. Still, if the fortune felt significant enough to save before, now it feels positively definitive.

This month, along with my Aries friends, I’ll do my best to live up to my good fortune and accomplish a potential urge or two. Removing the former potential urge to replace my wallet contents is a helpful boost that should allow me to redirect my ability to accomplish toward other, more important goals. I will strive to be a worthy recipient of this generous springtime gift.

Photo on 3-21-13 at 7.47 PM #3

Thank you, thank you, benevolent universe and kind stranger.

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Mar 20 2013
23 Comments
Breadcrumbs in the wilderness

When life gives you lemons (or limes)…

Photo © CasaDeQueso | Flickr

Photo © CasaDeQueso | Flickr

Citrus fruit—from lemons to limes to grapefruit to the mystical Sumo orange—is naturally gluten-free. So, in fact, is every kind of fruit, even breadfruit. It’s still citrus season, and there are all kinds of citrus-heavy gluten-free recipes that you should probably make now, while the blood oranges are still sanguine and the limes are seven for a dollar (like polenta cake, or lime bars, or gelato—let me know if you do make any of the above, with recipes, please).

But here’s the thing. Those lemon and lime wedges and sad little slices of orange that the bartender adds to your cocktails are usually the dirtiest thing at the bar. This little factoid has always tickled me; I’m especially fond of sharing it just after one of my friends has squeezed out the juices and plopped the entire desiccated rind into his or her beverage, when it’s too late to turn back. It’s funnier that way.

As karma would have it, on Saturday I went out to a bar with friends and ordered a club soda with lime—that is, the preferred beverage of hard-core dieters and recovered alcoholics everywhere. I didn’t dunk the lime, but I did keep it on the rim, and I did squeeze it into my soda and lick the juice off of my fingers afterwards (which was in itself gross, considering I’d just come from the subway—what is wrong with me?).

It wasn’t until later that I started wondering whether that lime could be a cross-contamination risk. After all, if a bartender fills a pint glass with beer and the foam spills onto his hand, then he reaches that hand into the garnish caddy to rummage for a hunk of lime, isn’t drinking a soda with one of those wedges just as bad as eating from the same bag of chips contaminated by a friend’s pizzaed hand (which I avoid doing, puritanically)? Isn’t it at least as risky as, or riskier than, using a clean-looking spoon from a possibly crumby drawer without washing it first?

I’m not really at a point where I can tell when I’ve been “glutened,” because overall I still feel the same as ever (which is to say bad). I did, though, have a canker sore on the inside of my lip the next day. Of course, canker sores can be caused by approximately a billion triggers, but one of them is celiac disease. (In fact, for about 5 percent of people with celiac disease, it’s the only noticeable symptom. Learning this made me wonder whether it would be worth giving up gluten if canker sores were the only noticeable symptom…until I looked up some Google images of severe cases and answered that question for myself: yes, a thousand times yes.) Anyway, perhaps that canker sore appeared because of my lime, or perhaps I am simply female (another leading cause of canker sores and other woes).

Either way, I worried. And once I’d started down the worry road, I also worried about the glass—what if it wasn’t well cleaned after holding beer? I’ve seen the old bartender rag-swipe cleaning job before. And what about the soda itself—was the tap definitely clean?

That a simple glass of bubbly water with a hint of lime should be the source of such anxiety sort of makes me want to curl up in a little gluten-free ball in the middle of my gluten-free bedroom on my gluten-free floor and never, ever eat anything anywhere else again. Except, just how gluten-free is my bedroom floor? We all know I’ve been known to snack there—have I vacuumed up all the gluten crumbs? Have I vacuumed at all? Does a vacuum even pick up gluten? Must I go somewhere that gluten has never been?

220px-Safe_ver1

Yes, every day I sympathize just a little bit more with Julianne Moore’s character in Safe. (Have you seen it? What do you think? It was recommended to me by a favorite college professor and it’s worth a watch, though it’s almost as disturbing as the Google image results you get by searching for “canker sores.”)

Since the curling-up-and-hiding option is neither possible nor desirable, I’ll instead conclude, “When life (or the bartender) gives you lemons (or limes)…politely decline.”

After all, that lemon or lime has probably been sitting out for days, and even if it is gluten-free, it’s most likely as flavorless as it is bacteria-ridden. It’s not worth the anxiety. All things considered, I’d rather have the gelato.

What’s your favorite drink garnish (or do you go naked)? Do you accept the lemon or lime at bars? What’s your favorite citrus recipe? Do you get canker sores/have yours gone away on a gluten-free diet?

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Mar 13 2013
6 Comments
Breadcrumbs in the wilderness

Happy hump day!

Photo © blue_quartz | Flickr

Photo © blue_quartz | Flickr

Wednesdays after a vacation are so much harder than other Wednesdays. I had a great visit with my parents last week, then hosted my sister over the weekend, and then had a half day yesterday because of my doctor’s appointment. All of this means I should be well rested and bright-eyed as I tackle the rest of my week, but instead, I’m dragging. (I blame my lack of nutrient absorption; what’s your excuse?)

To keep my enthusiasm up, I’m focusing on a few small pre-hump triumphs:

1. I had my first dinner party since going gluten-free. Hello, amaranth-polenta-stuffed peppers! Did you know amaranth is rich in, like, everything holy? Protein (including lysine), fiber, magnesium, iron, zinc, calcium, B vitamins…all that stuff veg-heads and gluten-freebies crave. I am not the first to compare it to manna. I’m eating my way through the leftovers and still have half a package left to use in another recipe. Thanks again, Mom, Dad, and Bob!

2. I made the Bob’s Red Mill brownies for my writing workshop and they were widely agreed to be delicious (by the same pals who said terrible, terrible things about the chocolate chip cookies). I filled them with about three times the recommended amount of chocolate chips (1/4 cup? Really?) and frosted them with Betty Crocker fudgy chocolate frosting (a bit sacrilegious for a girl whose parents would always opt for homemade ganache, but hey, they’re the ones who bought me a baking mix). They were even better the next day after chilling out in the fridge. Thanks, everyone, for recommending the brownies.

3. My new doctor is great. She listened to my concerns, she ordered a few more tests, she reassured me that everything takes time. She also felt my ankles and said, “You really run a lot, don’t you?” I have no idea if those two things were connected, but it amused me.

4. While at the doctor’s, I picked up a copy of the latest edition of Columbia’s Ultimate Guide to Gluten-Free Living (the linked edition is not the most recent, but I’m not sure the 2012 printing edition can be found online). It’s pocket-sized (if you are a man—if you’re a woman, you know the only thing pocket-sized is lip balm) and packed full of goodies. I read a lot of books, articles, and blogs about celiac disease and gluten-free living and often find the same information over and over again, but the little kernels of new knowledge make it worthwhile. This book lists a whole bunch of gluten-free brands I can check out and also highlighted Montina (Indian ricegrass), which is a new grain on me. I think it’s similar to Kamut (not gluten-free), in that the name is a registered trademark and it seems to be produced by one company only. On a less happy note, it also seems tough to find. Anyone tried it or know where to buy it?

5. I also found it adorable that the guide included the misspelling xantham gum. Seriously, it’s so much cuter that way.

6. Plus, it included one of those dining cards you are supposed to give to baffled waiters at restaurants. Do you carry one of these? I’m hoping I won’t mistake it for a business card—not that I give out many of those anyway.

7. Finally, when I pulled out the book I triggered an awkward but pleasant subway interaction with the guy sitting next to me. He told me he has a friend who needs to eat gluten-free, and I mentioned I was vegetarian as well, so we talked about soy. It was the first time I have ever heard someone say the word phthalate out loud. I looked back down at the book after a bit and he got up at the next stop, whether because it was actually his stop or because I made him feel unwelcome, I do not know. I hope it was the former. Although I don’t handle stranger banter all that well, I do love these chats because they remind me that the other people on the train are real people with interiority, not strange cyborg commuting machines, which also reminds me that I too am real.

What’s helping you remember you’re real this Wednesday? (Lots and lots of coffee? Oh, me too. Me, too.)

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Mar 12 2013
12 Comments
Breadcrumbs in the wilderness

Remember you are not the doctor.

Photo © Josh Clark | Flickr Creative Commons

Photo © Josh Clark | Flickr Creative Commons

Doctors’ receptionists have a tough job. They deal with stressed, unhappy, contagious people all day, and when they aren’t doing that, they file and photocopy paperwork, deal with ancient fax machines, and, I bet, put up with crap from the doctors. I’ve read that some offices don’t even provide their front-desk staff with internet access—which, to me, is practically a human rights violation. They probably get ill constantly from all the germs, and when they aren’t physically sick, they’re sick of their job.

Knowing this, I try not to be one of “those” patients. I’d say I’m pretty friendly, and I know I’m polite. In return, I hope for civility and, ideally, a bit of compassion. In my most recent medical experiences, I’ve encountered neither. My doctor never called me with my positive bloodwork results, and when I scheduled a follow-up, he and his staff forgot to check my results until I asked about them specifically. They were brusque and unapologetic and they sent me a duplicate copay bill.

When the time came to get my biopsy results, I didn’t want to go in and do it all over again (not to mention pay another copay or two). Instead, I tried to find everything out over the phone, and it got messy. In the end, the receptionist got fed up with me and said, “Remember, ma’am, you are not the doctor.”

This stuck with me, and not only because I found it funny that she called little ole 23-year-old me ma’am. It was also simply good advice. As I gear up for my first appointment with a brand-new doctor, I thought I’d share it. If you are a doctor, this may not apply to you. But otherwise:

Remember you are not the doctor.

Remember you do not have the doctor’s medical training, or credentials. Remember that to many, your understanding of your own health will never count. Remember you are presumed ignorant. Remember if you speculate or self-diagnose, you will be accused of hypochondria. Remember that not everything you’ve read or heard is true. Remember you may be biased, and remember fear can cloud your judgment.

But also: Remember it’s okay to be scared.

Remember to stay calm. Remember you care more about your health than anyone could who is paid to do so. Remember you have spent many recent hours researching your symptoms, and that if your doctor hasn’t kept up with latest research, you may in fact be better informed. Remember you are open to new ideas. Remember you do not have hundreds of other patients to keep track of. Remember you are focused. Remember you are the world’s leading expert on your own medical history and feelings.

Remember you are you.

Remember it is you, and not your doctor, who must live with whatever treatment—or lack of treatment—you’re prescribed. Remember you can seek a second opinion, or a third, or a tenth. Remember instinct counts for something, too. Remember it is easier for you to walk out on your doctor than for your doctor to walk out on you. Remember you’re worth more than a copay. Remember there are people rooting for you or relying on you to get well. Remember you are your own best advocate, but you are not your only advocate.

Remember you are loved.

Remember you are smart, and strong, and beautiful, and kind, and worthy, and interesting, and special, and whatever else you need to remind yourself of before you walk into the waiting room for your next appointment; but for God’s sake, remember you are not the doctor.

And remember you’re important anyway.

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