Since my sister Ky announced in February she was diagnosed with Celiac's disease, we knew it was a matter of time before the rest of us had to get tested. We all have similar symptoms and have been going to doctors for years with limited success. Now that we know it exists in our family, we can get tested.
I got home from Victoria and immediately went to the doctor to get the test underway. One big blood test later (seriously, I don't think I had blood left when they were done) I had to wait for the results. Since I've had numerous other health issues going on, the one week waiting period turned into three in order for all the results to come in at the same time.
Wednesday was that time.
I walked into the doctor's office, got into my paper gown (the physical was that day too, oh joy) and waited. I've been a bit anxious about what the results of the Celiac test would be, so finally being so close to an answer was a bit nerve racking.
My lovely doctor came in, sat down, told me the results of the test and immediately took my blood pressure. Not such a good choice it turns out. Perhaps she should have reversed that?
I have Celiac's disease. My levels were far and beyond the highest of the measurable scales. The levels that were "extremely high" were left in the dust by my results. For once, I'm an overachiever. Yay me.
It means going on a gluten-free diet. No wheat. No bread. No pasta. No cereal. Forever.
I've had a month to digest this (pardon the pun) but it was still kind of a kick to the junk. I know I will adjust. I will be forced to eat healthier and this is awesome. However, I have to admit, I am in mourning. It's going to be a big adjustment. I'm going to have to learn how to cook healthier, want to cook healthier, eat healthier, want to eat healthier. I'm going to have to stop eating a family sized box of Mini Wheats a month.
I know it will be good for me. I will likely lose weight (Dr. figures my body can't process the gluten so it stores it -- just in cases). I will not be as tired. I will not be as irritable. I will not be as gassy. (The world rejoices at that one. Especially Monty and The Guy. Dutch oven gets old fast.) I will feel better.
Really, I should be looking on the up side of this. It will be nice not to have bi-polar intestines with the emotional stability of a pubescent teenage girl in the hysterics of unrequited love.
But I will really miss Mini Wheats.