Category Archives: Celiac

Grateful…

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Even with my currently muted sense of smell, I can tell good things are happening in our kitchen right now. The plague of November 2009 continues to lay siege to my lungs and my productivity, which could spell trouble for the Thanksgiving dinner we are hosting. (And no, it is not H1N1; I was able to get my vaccine at a recent lung appointment.)

Luckily, my husband loves to cook and knows the value of early preparation when we’re in the midst of an infection. Gluten-free corn bread is cooking, sweet potatoes are roasting for a bourbon-walnut sweet potato mash, and other assorted casseroles and desserts are in various stages of completion.

Like so many others, I find it impossible to avoid reflecting on the things for which I am grateful this time of year. I can’t help noticing that these annual November posts invariably include food, like this one on the evolution of a gluten-free Thanksgiving.

Holidays are largely defined by the traditions we have, and particular foods and recipes form part of those traditions. I am grateful that over the years we’ve been able to blend long-held traditions with gluten-free ones. I love that my parents are excited to make a side pan of gluten-free stuffing to go along with their famous dish. I love that I addition to the usual pies, we will have a gluten-free almond cake with homemade cinnamon ice cream that tastes a lot like eggnog. (I also love that my husband made said ice cream in between days of running errands, cleaning, and ferrying my nebulizer from room to room.)

And I love that being gluten-free on Thanksgiving isn’t a big deal. In our group we have celiac, lactose-intolerance, allergies to peppers, onions, nightshades, cheddar cheese, and chocolate, as well as the challenges of type 2 diabetes. We all have some safe foods and some foods we know to avoid, and we will all be satisfied by the end of the meal.

It has been a long year, one filled with exciting developments but just as many challenges and setbacks. It has been a long year for so many people around me: illness, loss, economic stress, uncertainty.

I was thinking about all of this the other day when I skimmed some of the e-mails I get from an online disease community for celiacs. I don’t participate much, but I appreciate the advice and recipes many group members offer the newly-diagnosed. Usually people are pretty upbeat, but there’s one voice that is consistently negative. Work dinners, picnics, holidays, restaurant trips, etc—the focus is always on what this person cannot have.

I know sticking to a gluten-free diet can be expensive and difficult, and I know it is a huge adjustment. I know that adjustment is a lot more challenging around the holidays, especially if you’re newly diagnosed. Six years ago, I was diagnosed days before Christmas. Try being gluten-free for a mere four days when you’re not sure what is safe and trying to eat at an Italian Christmas Eve, where six of ten entrees contain pasta and the other four have flour of some kind.

Nothing says bountiful Christmas dinner like a plate of olives and peppers from the antipasto. So I get it. I really do.

I only wish I had the grace and eloquence to reply to the negative posts along these lines: While I am not grateful I have celiac, I am grateful I know I do and can do something to feel better.

That was the essence of the reply someone posted last week, and it is a sentiment that looms large in my thoughts these days.

I am grateful that in light of other medical problems that do not have such an immediate and definitive treatment plan, I have something I can manage with my diet. I am grateful that I know what’s going on (especially since I never presented with GI symptoms) and that I am no longer throwing my autoimmune system into a frenzy by eating foods I cannot process. I have control over something, I have choices and options I can make every day to help improve my health.

As many of you with chronic illness can attest to, that does not usually come easy.

With viral plagues and flu fears and feeling like no matter how hard I try to get air it will not come, having that kind of knowledge and control is even more important to me. And knowing people around me are dealing with far more right now, emotionally and physically, I realize how precious this is.

As many of you know, I’ve spent many holidays in the hospital. Usually, just being present and accounted for at the Thanksgiving table is enough for me. This year, knowing the people who matter to me will be there, despite a lot of serious challenges and stress in their lives, is what counts.

We might not be able to eat everything there, and we might not all feel too wonderful. But we’ll all be at the table, and that’s enough for me.

Are We Being Too Tolerant of Gluten-Intolerance?

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“Are we being too tolerant of gluten-tolerance?” is the question Slate’s Daniel Engbert explored earlier this week.

Now, I have a lot of thoughts about the points raised. However, I also have a lot of thoughts about another post I’m writing on disability vs illness, the interviews I’m doing today, and all the stuff I’m supposed to pack for a “working vacation” that starts tomorrow, so I’m going to tackle some of the major ideas briefly.

Honestly, based solely on the headline I thought the piece was going to antagonize me (proof it’s a smart headline, no?) but I found myself agreeing with some of it. Of course, where I found myself nodding in agreement were the most obvious distinctions, but they’re important ones nonetheless. Using Elisabeth Hasselbeck’s best-selling book The G-Free Diet and the booming gluten-free food industry as context, Engbert establishes that:

“The lavishing of attention on wheat alternatives is wonderful news to the sufferers of celiac disease, for whom any amount of dietary gluten can inflame and destroy the lining of the small intestine.” Naturally I agree with this; in the five years since I was diagnosed, both awareness and availability of GF products has really increased. More restaurants have GF options, labels are more clear, and more GF alternatives line the grocery store shelves.

(As an aside, does anyone with celiac disease actually use the term “G-free” in public? No seriously, I’m asking.)

Yet I don’t think I’m the only one out there who has witnessed the downside of the popularity of eating GF. For example, because it is known that people without celiac are opting for the GF lifestyle anyway, there can be less urgency about making sure meals in restaurants are actually GF—the occasional eye roll or dismissive glance that means the person I’m talking to half-wonders if I’m avoiding gluten simply to lose weight or something.

I should add here that Engbert makes the distinction between celiac disease and gluten-intolerance pretty explicit; it’s the people who reside on the spectrum of intolerance who don’t have the full-blown autoimmune response to gluten but feel better when they remove it he’s worried about:

“I’m all for people eating what they want, but lately I’ve started to wonder how gluten intolerance might relate to a more general anxiety about food… Any kind of restrictive diet can help alleviate gastrointestinal distress. If you’re paying more attention to what you eat, there’s a good chance your symptoms will lessen.”

He goes on to say, “It’s well-known that our digestive system adapts its secretions (rather quickly) to whatever we’re eating.” By extension, then, removing all products with gluten and then consuming some after a prolonged period could make you feel sick, thus enforcing the idea that you are gluten-intolerant.

(I can vouch for the fact that my husband went GF for a month to see what it was like and when he gorged on starches his first meal “back” he felt awful. Was gluten a shock to his system, or just a sign he overate in a way he didn’t when he was eating GF foods? I’m not convinced either way, but I know he felt pretty miserable.)

I know a type 2 diabetic without celiac who removed gluten from his diet and experienced dramatic reductions in his insulin needs—was it because he was somewhere on the sensitivity spectrum and removing gluten improved his digestion and absorption of foods and that somehow influenced his metabolism of insulin? I’m not an endocrinologist, so I can’t say. But could it be something as simple as removing gluten meant removing the more processed white starches and carbohydrates that spiked his sugar?

I don’t have the luxury to “slip up,” nor am I qualified to dissect those who are gluten-intolerant—we face many of the same challenges and gains in eating GF.

I guess my point is, to me, it doesn’t matter—in my example of the diabetic, the end result was that he felt better and needed less insulin. That’s the important part. If the gluten-intolerant have their own health improvements, that’s a good thing.

I live GF and have no regrets—I eat whole, fresh vegetables, complex grains with plenty of fiber like quinoa, and consume no processed foods. It is not without sacrifice or expense, but in many ways, I see it as a much healthier way to prepare and consume food. If others choose to do the same and experience the same benefits, that’s great.

And here’s where Engbert’s argument gets a bit more interesting. He parallels the rise of eating GF with other diet trends, like Atkins, at the same time admitting he doesn’t think people who choose to go GF are simply secretly trying to lose weight:

“When a restrictive diet becomes an end in itself, we call it an eating disorder; when it’s motivated by health concerns, we call it a lifestyle. It might also explain the relationship between food sensitivities and fad diets: People who are intolerant of gluten or lactose get a free pass for self-denial.”

Not to use the word “sensitive” too much, but I am particularly sensitive to this association between elimination and health. After all, I chose to go dairy-free even though I’m not lactose-intolerant because it helped decrease mucus production. That got a few eyebrows. And when I eliminated sugar and yeast for nine weeks due to my intense antibiotic regimen that wreaked havoc in my GI system, I got more eyebrows.

I consider these moves wholly health-motivated, so my choices would be classified as “lifestyle” ones by Engbert’s definition. But from the outside, perhaps they appeared otherwise to other people?

At the end of the day, I can’t worry about or judge the dietary choices others make or what they think of mine, so I’ll leave this where Engbert does—all this awareness is truly a good thing for celiacs, as well as the people who have celiac but have not been diagnosed yet but have a better chance of it now.

Do I think we’re “too tolerant?” No. Do I think extremes exist in every situation? Sure. Is that a reason to decry real progress for so many people? No.

On Listening and Judging

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I’ve been thinking about the online patient community a lot lately. When I first started blogging a few years ago, I was in such a different place. Not only was I completely new to the concept of the medical blogoshpere (I was just a girl sitting in office hours who decided to start a blog), but I was quite new to many of my diagnoses, namely primary ciliary dyskinesia, bronchiectasis, and celiac. I was also in the middle of acute adrenal failure.

As I wrote in Life Disrupted, it wasn’t that getting labels suddenly meant I was “sick.” Certainly the twenty-three years, numerous surgeries, and months in the hospital that made up my medical history did that. Rather, the correct labels now meant the descriptions of my illnesses finally matched my experiences.

I had a lot to learn about my conditions, my treatment plans, and most of all, how I wanted to mesh what I needed to do for optimal health with my professional and personal goals. I learned a lot from my new doctors, from my own research, and from other patient bloggers. Each source provided a different type of information, from clinical summaries of prognoses and data points to personal, anecdotal wisdom from those living with the treatments and side effects every day.

I often write how much I believe the universal experiences of illness far outweigh the disease-specific symptoms: getting a diagnosis, finding a compatible doctor, struggling with employment or personal relationships, navigating the process of acceptance, etc. Based on the variety of different patient and disease blogs I keep up with, I am further convinced of this.

But there’s something else I’ve gained from reading and processing other peoples’ disparate stories: I think I am less judgmental than I used to be.

It’s easy to think your reaction to a diagnosis, your treatment plan, or you feelings about particular procedures or practices are the “right” ones if they are all you know or think about. Sometimes the differences are smaller, like maintaining a gluten-free lifestyle by choosing only naturally gluten-free foods versus learning how to bake gluten-free equivalents of “regular” food, inhaling a certain kind of saline in a nebulizer over another, or choosing one type of specialist to handle a condition versus another.

Sometimes they are more profoundly life-changing, like deciding to try an experimental procedure, putting a name on a transplant, or deciding which way a family is going to bring a child into the fold.

Regardless of the enormity of the decision, having access to so many interpretations and points of view has reinforced to me how important is to see things from many angles, to respect that what works for me might not work for someone else and vice versa, and to understand that we don’t always have to agree with other people say, do, or write, but that’s okay—it’s not always our call to make.

When you write things and post them publicly, you sign up for discussion and sometimes disagreement—that’s what makes blogging so dynamic, and what makes it a conversation, not a monologue.

But sometimes, in the offline world of the healthy that each of us spends so much time in, I want something different. I don’t always want a conversation, or debate, or input that becomes static in my brain. When I’ve done the research and had the talks and made a decision about my life or my health, I don’t want to have to explain or justify or defend.

Sometimes, I just want the act of listening to happen. And hopefully with listening will come understanding, but I’ll take just the listening for a start.

Does that make me a hypocrite? It might, and I accept that.

Every now and then, I wish there was a way to easily moderate the comments that happen in real-time…what I really want to say is trust me.

Making Gluten-Free Eating Easier

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My recent foray into eliminating sugar and yeast from my diet have me thinking a lot about what I choose to put into my mouth. As an almost six-year veteran of living gluten-free, I’m used to doing that, of course, and I’ve written before about how I view my celiac diagnosis as full of opportunities, not restrictions.

While there are always occasional missteps or awkward experiences, after all this time I don’t stress too much about what is safe and what isn’t. I have my regular favorites recipes and my grocery store routine down pat. I’m comfortable asking questions in restaurants, and know to look for the “secret” sources of gluten that can make me sick. At this point, I think one of the more challenging parts of celiac disease is making other people comfortable and familiar with what I can and can’t eat. I don’t want relatives needlessly worried about giving me roast potatoes or rice (for some reason, the fact that they are starches used to make them think they weren’t safe), and I don’t want to cause extra work or concern for them.

I’m fortunate to be able to say that my friends and family are wonderful—they want to include me, and often branch out into things they might not have cooked before because I’m around, like risotto or polenta. They do their best with what I know is a steep learning curve.

That learning curve—the same one newly diagnosed celiacs also face—just got a little easier. I recently had the change to speak with the lovely people at Zeer, which is a “food information resource that makes it easy to find safe food. It helps people save time, stay safe, learn particular diets and live better lives.”

In response to the active, passionate gluten-free community on their review site, Zeer created Zeer Select, a subscription services for gluten-free shoppers that launched just a few weeks ago. The services includes a database of 30,000 food grocery products (a number that will keep growing), each labeled with a gluten-free safety status. (Not to worry—each product is evaluated by a team of physician and dietician experts to verify the safety and accuracy of the labels.)

Products are coded as either being gluten-free (safe), appearing to be gluten-free, or containing gluten. The ingredients for each product are included, so if a product is not specifically labeled gluten-free by the manufacturer but none of the ingredients are known to have gluten, the consumer can read them and make the decision to purchase it or not. Of course, for products that are not safe, the actual source of the gluten is noted. Users can search by food type, brand, or UPC code, and features like a list of suggested alternatives for “unsafe” foods are really helpful.

First of all, I always like to hear when a company pays attention to its customers and responds to their needs. Zeer did not start out customizing in gluten-free services but saw how engaged its gluten-free members were and things emerged organically from there. Secondly, Zeer Select fills a void in the online gluten-free world. Often, when you Google gluten-free foods, lots of recipes, blogs, and commentary pops up—which is great, but if you’re looking for grocery items, it is much more difficult to isolate the answers to your questions.

I spent some time on Zeer Select, searching for specific brands and specific items, like salad dressings, and found it really easy to navigate. If you’re interested, click on over and you can take a tour, too. The service is $14.95 a month, and they plan to build out the intelligence to include other specialized plans, like dairy-free, casein-free, and vegan diets.

If you’re newly diagnosed and not sure what you can and can’t put into your grocery cart, you will learn a lot from this service. But as I think about the ups and downs of the past six years, I realize it’s not just the newbies who benefit—the people around us who want to learn and cook for us and with us do, too.

(Food Allergy Buzz wrote about the launch, too—check it out to hear what others are saying.)

While we’re talking about celiac disease, Scientific American just published an in-depth article about celiac disease and autoimmunity—definitely worth the read!

Don’t Know What You’ve Got Till It’s Gone

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I didn’t realize just how little energy I had as a result of my malfunctioning thyroid until I started taking thyroid medication—it was the kinetic equivalent of putting on a pair of eyeglasses for the first time. Everything was sharper, clearer, more focused.

It was a whole new world. Can you relate?

I didn’t realize just how awful (sluggish, congested, weak) I felt when I ate foods containing gluten until I stopped eating them, and immediately ditched the sinus headaches and malaise. Similarly, I didn’t see just how foggy and gross I felt eating foods with sugar (wine, fruit, vinegar, etc in my world) while on suppressive antibiotics until I eliminated all sugars from my diet and no longer got spacey or clammy or had palpitations.

Five years apart, these experiences opened up “whole new worlds” on their own—not without sacrifice, but totally worth it. Have you been there, too?

And of course, I couldn’t tell just how much the muck festering in my lungs clouded over everything and constantly made me feel awful until I started treatments that actually addressed it—postural drainage, chest physiotherapy, etc—instead of just throwing steroids at it and hoping the infections would subside.

It was a whole new world, one that didn’t automatically include multiple weeks in the hospital every year. Have you experienced that type of profound relief?

Sometimes you just don’t realize how bad things were until you do something to correct it, until things are different. When it comes to medical stuff, this isn’t always a bad thing. After all, if we can look back and compare a “before” and “after” favorably, then we’re doing something right; we’re treating the right thing or implementing the right therapy or making the right lifestyle choices.

And right now, I’m experiencing a related type of gratitude. It has been two months and change since I was acutely ill. That’s right, 10 weeks of relative normalcy, a huge step given that for the past year or two my stretch for bad infections had been about two weeks at the most. The few infections I’ve had have been much more minor than normal, so beyond the daily coughing/wheezing and maintenance, my various conditions have been really stable. Part of it is because my “bad” season is over (September-May), part of it is because I am out in public less during the summer (no commuting to germy college campuses), and I know a huge part of it is because of the very aggressive treatment I’ve almost completed.

Whatever the constellation of factors is, I’ll take it.

I forgot what it was like to be able to accomplish a lot of the things I want to do every day, or to make plans without hesitation or fear I’d just have to cancel, or to go to gym and know my lungs and body will hold up their end of the bargain. I forgot just how great and necessary it is to see friends in person, and be part of family functions, or leave the house and do fun things with my husband on the weekends.

Only now that the vortex of that long, awful winter has finally released me can I say that I didn’t realize what an effort simply getting through the routine of daily life was until it was no longer an effort.

And I love this feeling. It’s a whole new world.

Can you relate?

When the Familiar Becomes Something New

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We had a really interesting conversation in my writing group the other night. In sum, we discussed how when we’re younger (teenagers and young adults) we are often so willing to embrace—and actively seek out—new experiences. The older we get, it gets harder to break out of familiar roles and stereotypes; we cling to the routines and the responsibilities that define the lives we’ve been working toward.

But sometimes, isn’t it so great to experience something new, that adrenaline rush that signals we are leaving our comfort zone?

I’ve thought a lot about my friends’ comments the past few days. The night before we met up, I returned from a short trip to Dublin, Ireland, where I’d spent a year studying when I was in college. I was jetlagged but exhilarated.

Clearly going to Ireland wasn’t a “new” experience for me—I loved the city so much when I lived there, and despite changes in Ireland, many of its streets and pubs and quirks were as familiar to me almost a decade later as they were when they were my streets, my pubs, and my adopted quirks.

But in many ways, it was new.

You see, a lot has changed since I was a college junior. That was before I had my diagnoses of PCD, bronchiectasis, and celiac, before the failure of my adrenal system, before I really acknowledged the consequences of choices I made, before it got to be that literally every time I’m in a public place or a train, etc I get sick.

That year was sandwiched in between years of hospitalizations and trips to the trauma room or ICU, certainly, and I was definitely sick while I was there. (Backstory: after I was accepted to Trinity College Dublin, they required several doctors’ notes to prove I was medically stable enough to even attend.) I had a private lung specialist a few blocks from my apartment there, and I had my requisite infections. My backpack for a several-weeks’ sojourn across Europe was mainly filled with medications, and I got lots of questions at border crossings.

And being me, of course I broke my ankle and tore ligaments before my trek. I lost my cast and crutches the day before I left for Spain, and hobbled through Europe with a splint-type contraption that smelled terrible and made navigating hostel showers quite a production. (I had patient friends.)

Still, I went. Not just to Dublin, inhalers and pneumonia and all, but to many places in Ireland and Europe. I saw amazing things and became close to amazing people, many of whom I am lucky to have in my life all these years later. I thought I appreciated the experience fully while living it, and I think I really did know how lucky we all were.

Looking back through several years’ experience, though, I appreciate that year abroad so much more now. Of course there is the obvious reason—how often can you pick up and live in a different country, or pack a bag and see so many sights in so many different countries? It is the quintessential young adult experience.

But the patient in me appreciates it for deeper reasons. In the intervening years, I’ve said “no” to a long list of things: family dinners, birthdays, and holidays; weddings, showers, and baptisms; dinner plans, outings, and get-togethers with friends…and of course, travel. It seems almost every time I made plans or booked a flight I had to cancel because I was sick.

And so in the same ways we can get pigeon-holed by labels—“lawyer” or “student” or “parent” or “teacher” or any of the many, many roles we have—I too have felt pigeon-holed by “patient.” It was by necessity and not choice, but it still seemed to define so many of the choices and experiences I’ve had. My acute crises and in-patient admissions have calmed down, but often over the past several years it seemed I could hardly recognize the person who, despite some complications, could travel that much, could spend hours each day walking through the streets of Dublin.

(And certainly this past winterdidn’t help.)

Or, despite how naïve it may have been, I still trusted my body then, still depended on it not to let me down. For better or worse, I’m not as quick to say I do that these days.

And that’s where we get back to my recent trip. Yes, much of the trip was reminiscing and visiting old haunts (but so much better this time around because I was with my husband, and he could show me his old Dublin haunts, too) and most of what we did I’d done before. But it was new role for me, one I hadn’t been able to embrace in such a long time…and that’s why I appreciate that year so much now: being back in Dublin reminded me there is always the possibility of something new.

(Even if only for a few days.)

Thank Goodness I Like Vegetables

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I realized just how much my lifestyle has changed over the past few years when a recipe for a weekend dinner party called for sugar, and I didn’t have any. Nor did I have artificial sweetener, artificial sweetener that looked and tasted like sugar, or anything else sweet, save the maple syrup we bought for when my niece slept over several months ago.

On the one hand, I felt a bit domestically delinquent. We usually had some on hand for company, but beyond that, isn’t sugar one of those staples every kitchen needs? Then again, we don’t usually have flour of any kind, either.

As I’ve written before about the evolution of my gluten-free life, I’m more the “explore naturally gluten-free foods” type of girl than I am someone who looks for gluten-free versions of “normal” food—but I recognize that’s just personal preference and that each person needs to do what makes the most sense for his/her circumstances.

Lately, it seems like celiac disease is popping up everywhere. Of course, there’s a certain celebrity’s newly published book stirring up a lot of comments, but there’s more to it than that. The other day at Gluten-free Girl, Shauna mentioned how many new products and companies are now on the market offering gluten-free baked goods, mixes, etc. In my own area, I’ve recently discovered that restaurants like Papa Razzi and Charley’s offer gluten-free accommodations, and I love hitting up regular spots like Jake’s Dixie Roadhouse, which has a GF menu and strict cross-contamination measures.

What’s more, the amount of people around me who know what celiac is or have just gotten diagnosed with it is growing.

“Do you think it’s like food allergies, where more and more people get celiac now?” someone asked me.

“Honestly? I’m no expert, but celiac is so often missed because it is so tricky to diagnose. I think the reason more people are now told they have it because awareness has grown; patients think to ask their doctors about it, and doctors think to check for it, even when “classic” symptoms might not be there,” I said. These are people who may have suffered for years without knowing why.

Anyway, all this is to say that much has changed since I was first diagnosed five and a half years ago. I can’t believe it has been that long. I’ve learned how to make a lot of new foods, I go out to eat without fear or hesitation, we’re growing our own vegetables in our yard, and I’m even in a supper club whose members view the challenge of GF cooking as a good one.

But now there’s a wrinkle. No, it’s not dairy; I cut that out two years ago. No, it’s not processed food; that went out the window a long time ago.

I’ve mentioned before what an soul-crushing, lung-battering winter I had this year. (Okay, maybe slightly dramatic, but it was Not. Good.) As a result of that seven-month siege, I am on a very aggressive, very long-term suppressive course of rotating antibiotics. I don’t talk about it much because there are so many strong opinions about these medications out there, and yes, they are overused by people with colds and yes it’s a problem…but for people like me, they are, quite literally, a lifesaver. Not only do they save lives in acute infectious situations, but they can also help slow down irreversible lung damage. If it’s a choice between several weeks a year as an inpatient and trips to the ICU and suppressive treatment that actually gives me some quality of life and helps control the many infections I get, it’s a no-brainer.

But my aggressive treatment is not easy on the body, most notably the stomach. As evidenced by lots of GI issues and a lovely film on my tongue, my long-term use of these meds has given me candida, an overgrowth of yeast in the intestinal tract (it happens when meds kill the healthy gut bacteria) that spreads throughout the body. Lovely.

The treatment? Well, coming off the meds isn’t an option right now, so I’m trying to follow the candida diet, which essentially means eliminating all sources of sugar, yeast, and fermentation in the diet. Now, clearly I don’t eat a lot of sugar but it’s more complicated than that: naturally occurring sugar in fruit is out; vinegars, salad dressings, honey, tomatoes, white starches…all out. The list goes on, trust me. Again, not the biggest deal since I don’t eat some of this anyway, but if you’ve read Life Disrupted you know how I feel about my honey mustard dressing.

Now, my lunch of green beans and chickpeas is a bit sad and lonely.

“Um, so what do you eat?” a friend asked, knowing I limit animal protein to once a day.

The list is short.

When I was first diagnosed with celiac, I never went through an angry stage or mourned all the things I couldn’t have; I was ecstatic there was something wrong with me I could actually fix. (This doesn’t happen often in my world.) I’m channeling that sentiment to this latest dietary challenge—I feel pretty crummy so if taking these steps can improve things even a little, it’s totally worth it to me.

But if you have any pointers, I’m listening.

What You Eat and How You Feel….

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What’s your cooking personality?

I took a quiz in the NYT’s Well blog recently and my results were a mix of healthy and innovative, meaning I like to experiment and rarely use recipes, I enjoy using fresh ingredients and spices, and I rely a lot on fresh vegetables and healthier proteins. The point of the post was to discuss how strong an influence the person who buys and prepares food has over household consumption, which I find interesting as well as totally logical.

(I should add here that several days into a lingering stomach flu, I am taking a huge leap writing and even thinking about food. Pedialyte and tea is more my speed right now.)

Anyway, in my more normal solid food state, we have a team approach to buying and preparing food because we both enjoy cooking and we each have complementary goals: I want lots of greens, lots of fiber, and a lot of heat; my husband is especially particular about preparing quality proteins and is always looking to try new preparation methods and new combinations.

Our meal planning has evolved a lot since we first met and started cooking gluten-free; since then, I’ve eliminated dairy and gotten a lot more adventurous, and we’ve both become committed to eliminating processed food. If I think about that in terms of the article on cooking styles, I’d say we’ve both influenced each other’s meals, though in different ways.

I realized our overall grocery store expedition can be boiled down to “Lean proteins, preferable whatever’s on sale, and vegetables.” In addition to lots of herbs and spices, we have lots of vegetable and chicken stock on hand, as well as bulk quantities of quinoa, brown rice, polenta, and risotto. As long as there’s some olive oil and garlic in the house, we’re set for the week and can do many different things with these core ingredients. (Of course we buy other things to supplement breakfast and lunch, but this is the crux of it.)

I found myself telling one of my doctors this last week after a strategy session to map out a way to control my dubious immune system and lungs these days. He was very interested.

“Do you notice you feel better when you eat certain things and worse when you eat others?” (Keep in mind, “feel better” in a lung doctor’s office means, “How is your breathing?”)

I mentioned that I gave up dairy voluntarily to cut down on mucus congestion and that I could tell it made a difference on the very rare occasions I’ve eaten it since: I am much more wheezy, and I cough a lot more. But beyond that, I haven’t really thought about how specific foods may or may not influence inflammation in my airways. I’ve been so focused on the macro—put good things into your body, and hopefully good things will happen.

So my new challenge is to be a more conscious eater, to slow down and think about how I feel and how I am breathing after different meals. It takes time and effort to eat gluten-free, whole foods and keep it economical; if I can parse out added benefit for my lungs themselves, then that’s great.

What about you? Have you noticed you react differently to certain foods (excluding any food allergies/intolerances, of course)? And if you take the quiz, don’t hesitate to share what your cooking personality is!

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In other health-related news, I’ve written before about the effort America’s Agenda Health Care Summit Conversations is making to bring consensus to health care reform. Now, there’s a way you can participate in the movement as well. They are sponsoring a virtual marchto let Congress know how health care costs affect your daily life. You can join the Facebook page, send a photo of yourself, and tell your story. We can’t all be in Washington, but this is one way to get your voice heard. Check it out!

Food Matters…

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This was the post I planned to write:

“I have to confess, I haven’t read Mark Bittman’s Food Matters yet, but I am intrigued by what I read in this review. A ‘Guide to conscious eating’ seems especially appropriate this time of year, when we tend to focus on eating well and starting new habits.

As a celiac, I am gluten-free by necessity, and as someone with chronic, progressive lung problems, I am dairy-free by choice. As I’ve written before, I no longer see this lifestyle as one of food exclusion but as one with a different set of possibilities. There is no question I feel better without gluten, and if the removal of dairy has made my congestion even a little better, it’s worth it to me.

I don’t plan on altering this combination too much, but I’ve thought a lot about how I want to embrace the spirit of change in the New Year. Over the past few months, I’ve shifted towards less animal protein and more plant sources, until somehow I found myself not having any animal protein until dinner, and sparing amounts at that. When I read how Bittman and a colleague embarked on a ‘vegan until six’ endeavor with limited simple carbohydrates to improve their health (there are lots of environmental reasons behind his choices too but I am focusing on health), I thought, ‘Huh. Who knew it had its own catch phrase?’

It’s really not too much of a shift from what we’re already doing in our household—planning meals in advance, making things from scratch in larger quantities for later use, shopping the perimeter of the grocery store. In essence, I’m continuing to swap out my midday protein for a plant-based one. But the difference is that now I am doing it more consciously. High cholesterol and cardiovascular disease run in my family, and I figure I have enough issues as it is.

I know many of you out there have made lifestyle changes and dietary changes that aren’t necessary for medical conditions (like going gluten-free if you’re celiac, for example) but have made a big difference in your health and in controlling chronic conditions. What has made the biggest difference, and do you have any regrets?”

So that was the post I had set in my mind until I received an e-mail about Share Our Strength’s “Operation No Kid Hungry” campaign to raise funds to help end childhood hunger and encourage Americans to hold food drives within their own communities. According to Share Our Strength:

“This campaign responds to President-elect Obama’s call to
action for corporations to serve our nation’s communities and builds on his commitment to end childhood hunger by 2015.”

I got to know this organization when I wrote a newspaper article on Operation Frontline, a nutrition education program for low-income families. It was then that I really started to see that conscious, healthy eating can be affordable and manageable.

Share Our Strength is running the campaign to coincide with Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, and there are two ways we can all get involved:

1. Text “SHARE” to 20222 on your mobile device to donate $5. AT&T will match all text donations up to $100,000.

2. Holding food drives within their communities beginning Monday, January 19th, which is Martin Luther King Day and a national day of community service.

Visit Share our Strength for more details.

And then I thought about how much food really matters, and how lucky many of us are to have the luxury to decide just how conscious our eating can be.

The Evolution of a Gluten-free Thanksgiving

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This is the week of food posts, no? This is also the first time I’ve had any real interest in the actual meal part of Thanksgiving in years. We’re hosting it, and even before we pick up the turkey and other fresh ingredients next week our pantry and refrigerator are already getting full…and I’m really excited to prepare it all.

Honestly, not being able to eat a lot of traditional holiday dishes has never been a big deal to me. I ate my plain turkey, my peas, and called it a day. I didn’t compare gluten-free stuffing recipes or gluten-free pie ingredients, and I didn’t ask for or expect special dishes. The stuffed mushrooms I always make happen to be gluten-free, and even though I’m now dairy-free and they’re no longer safe for me, I make them anyway—they are a crowd favorite.

From feedback I’ve heard from other celiacs, it seems like the hardest Thanksgiving meal is the first one after diagnosis when you’re still getting used to the gluten-free diet and missing favorite foods. I got diagnosed right before Christmas and spent that Christmas in the hospital, so I didn’t have option of acclimating my condition to holiday traditions—clear liquids are neither festive nor gluten-y. By the time the next Thanksgiving and Christmas rolled around, I was so focused on keeping my lungs stable and my body out of the hospital that what I ate seemed inconsequential. I get the frustration or even anger people may feel when they need to give up certain foods, but for better or worse, that hasn’t been my experience.

Besides, going GF made me feel a lot better, and that trade-off was always worth it.

And in a way, not much has changed. Considering last Thanksgiving my jaw was frozen shut with an infection and I could only have broth through a straw, I’m happy just to be able to chew this year. I’ve always been a lean protein and green vegetables kind of girl, and that remains true on Thanksgiving. I know there are all sorts of approaches in terms of eating gluten-free and it’s just a matter of preference. Mine has always been to focus on what is naturally gluten-free and explore those possibilities. It’s not the only way, but it’s my way, and that’s the spin we’re adding to the traditional family menu this year.

I want my mother’s famous stuffing at our table, just like I want the derby pie my husband loves, the ricotta pie my grandmother makes, and the buttery potatoes my brother considers a deal-breaker. I want everyone to have their favorite things.

But I’ve started to make an effort to have my favorites, too. I don’t miss or resent what I can’t have but I do want to share what I can have, so we’re adding small touches to the meal. We’re making the roasted Brussels sprout hash we both love, and we’re adding cranberries and toasted almonds. We’re making naturally GF cornbread to go along with the rolls. There will be no GF dessert option because I don’t eat dessert, but there will be plenty of coffee and perhaps the port that several of us like to drink.

At the end of the day, what I can or can’t eat is much less important to me than being healthy enough to be at the table and enjoy my family. I said it last year but it’s just as true for me this year—it’s the people at the table who create holiday memories, not the food.

(I do hope they like the roasted Brussels sprouts, though!)

Looking for ways to customize your gluten-free Thanksgiving? I’m not much of a baker so don’t listen to me. Trust Shauna at Gluten-free Girl, who has compiled a list of sure-fire recipes.

Celiacs aren’t the only ones who face challenges in the holiday season—diabetics and people with other conditions that mean dietary restrictions have a lot to juggle, too. There are several people with diabetes in my family and lots of friends with food restrictions, and I know it can be a tricky time for them, too. Check out the holiday sweepstakesover at Diabetesmine.com. Share your diabetic holiday tips and strategies and you could win a ton of cool prizes.

Stay tuned for a post that’s less about what we eat and more about the giving thanks part of Thanksgiving…