1-9-19
I'll go into FODMAP later, as I am 1) not an expert and 2) it is 1:33 AM.
I am annoyed about the lack of garlic and onions. What is my life exactly with no sriracha? GARLIC.
I wanted to shake up my diet (punintentional) in December so I'd been drinking Vega shakes as an easy way to keep lunch at work without worrying about 1. if it'd make me sick or 2. having to pack anything and 3. spending money/time/gas eating out. Drinking a meal replacement for lunch at work is cost effective, lazy, minimizes your carbon imprint to an extent, and involves minimal clean up. I'm generally on this trend of minimizing my lifestyle, and the choices I have to make. My job is stressful, I'm not particularly happy with my life right in general, and I have metric fucktons of anxiety that make decision making painful and panic inducing. Poor baby, I know. But that's the truth of it. I can't help it. On top of that, my gut deciding to betray me completely has made food an ordeal rather than a pleasure, because nothing feels safe to eat if everything is going to make me really acidic and burpy (but oddly no heartburn) or squishy pants/buttpee. So, back to the shake thing- Vega feels safe, it has lots of vitamins, and I like that it's got greens added. Celiac aside, I am not a picky eater, so I'm okay eating the same thing every day. Enter HUEL. I'd seen ads for Huel here and there, and finally decided last month to order some but hadn't tried it yet because I was trying to finish the Vega I still had. Gastroenterologist says I have to do FODMAP and I wanted to start it immediately. I was thinking the pea protein would be problematic, but Huel's website is awesome and super informative and FODMAP free! So yesterday was my first day on the Huel train. It tastes a lot like oatmeal with vanilla. Not a bad thing, IMO. Definitely edible. For dinner, I had chicken thighs, carrots, sweet potatoes, and some golden raisins fried in a pan with oil, and with garam masala (which ooops had garlic >.< ), red pepper flakes, turmeric, salt and pepper, and a bit of basil and oregano and cayenne pepper. piled on quinoa. I also had some Blue Diamond crackers with Parmigiana slices and some pumpkin seeds. Right now, honestly I feel fine, even though this morning/day were a trial of fire with a lot of burping/refluxy feels up until I got home and ate those crackers. I'm still a little bit burpy but nowhere near as much as earlier. So ended Day 1 of FODMAP, with only a little slip and overall feeling much better than I started out. Also, at my doctor's visit I weighed 242.2 lbs fully dressed, in the middle of the day, with food in my stomach. So I'll take my victories where they come.
Friday is payday, and I'm ordering a blender, food scales, new measuring cups/spoons, and a human scale.
Santé!
Tuesday, January 8, 2019
1/9/19
An auspicious start, I suppose?
1/7/19- I went to the gastroenterologist for the very first time. I am 33, 5'7", and weigh *gulp* 245lbs when I first went to the doctor back in December.
After a very rough year of losing a job I loved, being unemployed, temping, and finally getting hired in October, my insurance kicked in I was able to FINALLY see a doctor. I haven't been in years, because being underemployed and uninsured has been something I've excelled at, even if I succeed at little else in life. Enough whining. I'll go into a specifics later, but the TL;DR version is that my shit is fucked. Literally. Best described as pudding consistency for the majority of last year. I've basically been counting the days down until I had healthcare and access to money for treatment, and suffering since May of 2018. I've already been diagnosed with celiac disease 10 years ago, and what I was experiencing was not the same.
Suffice to say, the doctor listened to me, and basically their response was "Your shit is too fucked for us to handle here, so we are referring you to a psychiatrist and a gastroenterologist. They'll be able to help you narrow it down and you'll get your bipolar/adhd treated (again, a decade long diagnoses I don't dispute, but haven't been able to treat for a few years)." In summary, either my head is full of shit (obvious) or my gut is (also obvious). If you want a positive blogger, you may want to skip out, because if it's not self-deprecating, it ain't me.
So- the gastroenterologist visit, which I will detail later, went well. I saw the medical assistant, who was a very sweet blond who looked/reminded me of someone I went to high school with at Rockwall High School, and for all I know I did, but was very friendly and nice and had the most awesome glittery nails I have seen yet. I mentioned being dissatisfied with my weight, and towards the end she very gently suggested I exercise and recommended thoughtful, gradual weight loss "no crash dieting" and told me to "make 2019 [my] year." I'm doing my best. And then she prescribed me with the inevitable FODMAP diet I knew I'd end up having to do, and a battery of tests to get done Friday. I've always been a writer, and writing helps anxiety, so if anyone out in the internet ether wants to keep up, I'm going to document this journey here.
An auspicious start, I suppose?
1/7/19- I went to the gastroenterologist for the very first time. I am 33, 5'7", and weigh *gulp* 245lbs when I first went to the doctor back in December.
After a very rough year of losing a job I loved, being unemployed, temping, and finally getting hired in October, my insurance kicked in I was able to FINALLY see a doctor. I haven't been in years, because being underemployed and uninsured has been something I've excelled at, even if I succeed at little else in life. Enough whining. I'll go into a specifics later, but the TL;DR version is that my shit is fucked. Literally. Best described as pudding consistency for the majority of last year. I've basically been counting the days down until I had healthcare and access to money for treatment, and suffering since May of 2018. I've already been diagnosed with celiac disease 10 years ago, and what I was experiencing was not the same.
Suffice to say, the doctor listened to me, and basically their response was "Your shit is too fucked for us to handle here, so we are referring you to a psychiatrist and a gastroenterologist. They'll be able to help you narrow it down and you'll get your bipolar/adhd treated (again, a decade long diagnoses I don't dispute, but haven't been able to treat for a few years)." In summary, either my head is full of shit (obvious) or my gut is (also obvious). If you want a positive blogger, you may want to skip out, because if it's not self-deprecating, it ain't me.
So- the gastroenterologist visit, which I will detail later, went well. I saw the medical assistant, who was a very sweet blond who looked/reminded me of someone I went to high school with at Rockwall High School, and for all I know I did, but was very friendly and nice and had the most awesome glittery nails I have seen yet. I mentioned being dissatisfied with my weight, and towards the end she very gently suggested I exercise and recommended thoughtful, gradual weight loss "no crash dieting" and told me to "make 2019 [my] year." I'm doing my best. And then she prescribed me with the inevitable FODMAP diet I knew I'd end up having to do, and a battery of tests to get done Friday. I've always been a writer, and writing helps anxiety, so if anyone out in the internet ether wants to keep up, I'm going to document this journey here.
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