Anne TootillTo Be or Not To Be a Mother - Part Three
February 27th 2007 17:35
The follow-up blood tests were in and I was a wreck. What if I had an autoimmune disease? Who would take care of my kids when I couldn’t move my arms and legs? Who would feed them and hug them and tell them stories and love them? They were so much work. My son was so much work. Would a babysitter throw him out a window?
And I didn’t want to die or become disabled. I didn’t want to be in a wheelchair or go blind or not be able to walk or talk or take care of myself. By the time I got to the doctor’s office I was really, really scared. I waited for what seemed like a lifetime until they called my name.
The doctor told me that everything except the ANA had come back normal. He’d retested it to see if and the numbers were still through the roof. His theory? That I was killing myself. Not figuratively, of course. Literally. My tissues were attacking themselves and causing me to become this incredibly hypersensitive person. I know he said a lot of words, but everything after…”you do not have an autoimmune disease”, was lost on me.
After that I met with a nutritionist. It was pretty simple, really. No, really simple. Since I was allergic to so many things even the rotation diet didn’t have much to rotate. Turkey, yams, vegetables, nuts (except for peanuts), starchy vegetables, alternative grains, some fish. I was highly allergic to eggs, milk, all the garden variety regular grains, chicken, beef, pork, beans, fruit, sugar, etc. etc. etc. Until my system quieted down she instructed me to stay far away from all these foods, which could easily be summed up as anything with taste.
Then again she had no idea she was talking to a compulsive overeater. Stress and depression being my motivating factors. And since these factors had been a constant in my life since giving birth to Alex, how was I ever going to follow so restrictive a meal plan? I started to explain this side of the equation but she wasn’t interested.
So I left the nutritionist, made an appointment with the therapist, puffed on my inhaler and went home to eat every grain, fruit and sweet thing in my house.
After all tomorrow was another day.
And I didn’t want to die or become disabled. I didn’t want to be in a wheelchair or go blind or not be able to walk or talk or take care of myself. By the time I got to the doctor’s office I was really, really scared. I waited for what seemed like a lifetime until they called my name.
The doctor told me that everything except the ANA had come back normal. He’d retested it to see if and the numbers were still through the roof. His theory? That I was killing myself. Not figuratively, of course. Literally. My tissues were attacking themselves and causing me to become this incredibly hypersensitive person. I know he said a lot of words, but everything after…”you do not have an autoimmune disease”, was lost on me.
After that I met with a nutritionist. It was pretty simple, really. No, really simple. Since I was allergic to so many things even the rotation diet didn’t have much to rotate. Turkey, yams, vegetables, nuts (except for peanuts), starchy vegetables, alternative grains, some fish. I was highly allergic to eggs, milk, all the garden variety regular grains, chicken, beef, pork, beans, fruit, sugar, etc. etc. etc. Until my system quieted down she instructed me to stay far away from all these foods, which could easily be summed up as anything with taste.
Then again she had no idea she was talking to a compulsive overeater. Stress and depression being my motivating factors. And since these factors had been a constant in my life since giving birth to Alex, how was I ever going to follow so restrictive a meal plan? I started to explain this side of the equation but she wasn’t interested.
So I left the nutritionist, made an appointment with the therapist, puffed on my inhaler and went home to eat every grain, fruit and sweet thing in my house.
After all tomorrow was another day.
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