Right now I'm right smack in the middle of a 24-hour health-love fest. Last night was my first meeting for the FareWell diet, an elimination diet I'm trying with my favorite health-questing pal, Jen. At 10am I had a phone appointment with the amazing nurse practitioner who changed my life three years ago by diagnosing me with celiac disease. And after work today I get to pay a visit to Eva, acupuncturist extraordinaire, for my weekly tune-up. I want to give each of these three pieces the attention it deserves, but to be able to tell the full story, I think you need some background.
The back story, short version: Four years ago my health took a major dip. I went from feeling sort of blah all the time to feeling downright sick all the time. Panic attacks, no energy, inability to sleep.
But the kicker was the pain. In the fall of 2004, right when I was studying in Rome, surrounded by delicious food and beautiful art, I started to have pain in my back. Then it spread to my left leg, then my left arm, and, before long, my whole body was in agony. I found a chiropractor, and he helped, but the results never lasted more than a day. When my parents came to visit in December, I was in so much agony that my souvenir from Ravenna was a cane to help me hobble around the city. In Assisi, we got a special handicap parking pass so we could park in the central square because going up the stairs from the main parking lot was too painful. By the time we got to the airport, my dad had to steal a wheelchair because I couldn't walk to the gate. The next seven months were filled with appointments to various specialists, all with the same outcome: we don't know what's wrong, and it might just be in your head.
No. Way.
There was something wrong, and I didn't have the faintest clue what it could be. We knew what it wasn't. We knew it wasn't rheumatoid arthritis, and it wasn't a slipped disc in my spine, and it wasn't a tumor pressing on the nerves. Knowing what it wasn't was a start, but I still needed answers. Finally, in July of 2005, I got them.
My boss that summer, seeing how much pain I was in, suggested I make a trip to the
Women to Women clinic in Maine. I took a little wellness road trip to Yarmouth with D., one of my closest friends since 7th grade (we were a head taller than everyone else on the first day of school, so we found each other pretty quickly), and had the appointment that changed everything. After reviewing my diet and talking to me for half an hour, my nurse practitioner suggested I might have a gluten intolerance. If I stopped eating gluten -- a protein found in wheat, barley, rye, and oats -- I might feel better. Within three days I was pain free.
When my latest health crisis rolled around, I knew I'd have to bring in the experts from Women to Women again. Check back later to find out what they had to say three years later. Hint: It's all good news. Really good news.
The back story, short version: Four years ago my health took a major dip. I went from feeling sort of blah all the time to feeling downright sick all the time. Panic attacks, no energy, inability to sleep.
But the kicker was the pain. In the fall of 2004, right when I was studying in Rome, surrounded by delicious food and beautiful art, I started to have pain in my back. Then it spread to my left leg, then my left arm, and, before long, my whole body was in agony. I found a chiropractor, and he helped, but the results never lasted more than a day. When my parents came to visit in December, I was in so much agony that my souvenir from Ravenna was a cane to help me hobble around the city. In Assisi, we got a special handicap parking pass so we could park in the central square because going up the stairs from the main parking lot was too painful. By the time we got to the airport, my dad had to steal a wheelchair because I couldn't walk to the gate. The next seven months were filled with appointments to various specialists, all with the same outcome: we don't know what's wrong, and it might just be in your head.No. Way.
There was something wrong, and I didn't have the faintest clue what it could be. We knew what it wasn't. We knew it wasn't rheumatoid arthritis, and it wasn't a slipped disc in my spine, and it wasn't a tumor pressing on the nerves. Knowing what it wasn't was a start, but I still needed answers. Finally, in July of 2005, I got them.
My boss that summer, seeing how much pain I was in, suggested I make a trip to the
Women to Women clinic in Maine. I took a little wellness road trip to Yarmouth with D., one of my closest friends since 7th grade (we were a head taller than everyone else on the first day of school, so we found each other pretty quickly), and had the appointment that changed everything. After reviewing my diet and talking to me for half an hour, my nurse practitioner suggested I might have a gluten intolerance. If I stopped eating gluten -- a protein found in wheat, barley, rye, and oats -- I might feel better. Within three days I was pain free.When my latest health crisis rolled around, I knew I'd have to bring in the experts from Women to Women again. Check back later to find out what they had to say three years later. Hint: It's all good news. Really good news.
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