The Diagnosis

I grew up with chronic tummy and digestive troubles. In college it got worse, and I visited a doctor at Andrews AFB hospital (I was still a military dependent then) in the spring of 1985. The doctor said that I probably had a "nervous" stomach, aggravated by school pressures, and that I should avoid caffeine and red sauces. Okay. Check.


I noticed that, unlike a lot of my college buddies, I could not drink beer or eat pasta or pizza without feeling like I swallowed a basketball. I could bet that I would feel horrible after eating in restaurants, and chalked it up to something that was odd about me, period. I would make excuses to not eat when going out with friends, but really, I felt better when I didn't eat.


My body started operating in a mad cycle. I was starving myself (because I felt "better"), I would be famished, then I would eat like a fiend because I was starving. Then I'd be sick again. As a result, my weight bounced around constantly. When I started my senior year of college, at 5'4", I weighed about 150 pounds. When I got married, about six years later, I had ballooned to almost 200 pounds. My mother was diagnosed with cancer two years later. I could not eat much during that time. When my mother died in August 1989, I weighed 148 pounds. 


The years that followed saw my clothing size go from 14 to 8, and then back again. I refused to get to the root of the problem, and instead, lived with the cycle of symptoms that plague someone with undiagnosed gluten intolerance or full-blown Celiac Disease.


Flash forward to 2008...Things were rough at work, and I was taking medicine for acid reflux. The reflux problem got so bad that year, that by November, I had lost 20 pounds. I was having joint pain, frequent and severe headaches, and my doctor started calling me a "frequent flier," I had seen him so much that year. He decided to take charge of the situation. God bless him. He advised me to do an elimination diet. This would take about one month, and would require me to do two weeks of no dairy (torture for me, as I am a self-proclaimed cheese-rat), then two weeks of no wheat or gluten. He said, "let's hope it's a dairy problem. Gluten is in EVERYTHING, and that's going to be much harder to battle."


I saw no change with the diary-free diet. Uh-oh. I felt better about three days after not eating any wheat- or gluten-containing products. I stopped taking the reflux medicine. I stopped taking my daily Pepto. I hadn't felt good for such a long time, that I was giddy. The Doc ordered a blood panel to be sure (although a stomach biopsy is the more conclusive method for diagnosis). My diagnosis was confirmed.


I was relieved to know what was wrong. That relief was soon replaced with the sensory overload I experienced when trying to go grocery shopping for the first time after my diagnosis. I read every label. I donated all of my gluten-containing food items to the local food bank. I had to learn to shop, cook, and think all over again. It took me two hours to shop the first time after my diagnosis. I was exhausted.


So, this is the distilled version of what led up to my diagnosis. Now I'm living with Celiac Disease. In my next blog, I'll explore the world of grocery shopping, cooking, and thinking gluten-free. I hope that this post will help people who are experiencing undiagnosed GI problems. Work toward your diagnosis: your life will get much better in most situations.


I'm thankful that wine is gluten-free. Cheers!