Thanksgiving—How To Cope When You Have to Cope Everyday

It's probably safe to say that Thanksgiving is everyone's favorite holiday because, well, it's the day about everyone's favorite subject:: FOOD! The house is filled with the sounds and smells of FOOD being made, decorations that represent fall and Thanksgiving (which often times is FOOD [think pumpkins, corn-on-the-cob, and various cords]), family chatting and catching up, drinks being had. It's a wonderful time! For some, though, it's a time of anxiety because they are thinking about all of the things on the Thanksgiving table that they cannot eat due to their Gastroparesis.

Gastroparesis does not allow a person to eat most vegetables, fruits, breads, and fats that are found in a Thanksgiving spread. But, not wanting to cause a problem, stand out, or be a burden the person with Gastroparesis will just make due with what is found before them...and then suffer the consequences later. For some people this can be “minor”--early satiety and the inability to enjoy any dessert—to disastrous—severe abdominal pain, nausea, and vomiting. Whatever the case may be, people with Gastroparesis tend to not relish (some do) the holidays any longer due to the food-centricness (Oh! I think I just made a new word!) of it all.

Speaking for myself only, I have learned to adapt without having holiday food anxiety. I pick and chose the food, as wisely as I can, that I can eat. I know that I have to eat in moderation and just KNOW that I will not have a heaping plate of food like my family members and not feel sorry about it. My family does not have to worry about getting hugely bloated afterward, nor do they have to worry about throwing it up a short time later, or feel nauseous, but I do so; therefore I have to do what's right for me in this scenario. Mashed potatoes and I are besties (on any given day, honestly), I splurge on stuffing because I just LOVE it, and I a small piece of turkey. I have all of the essentials (I can't have cranberry sauce, but I don't like it, so problem solved!)

My policy, though, is:: if I am having a flare day, I am having a flare day and I will tell you and I just will not eat. It's not something I can control, it's not something I can predict, and I'm not going to feel guilty about it. I know making a turkey dinner takes a quadrillion hours and I appreciate that, but I'm not going to make myself sicker just to sample your food. My family will love me, tasted turkey dinner or not. There's always Christmas dinner!

So Your Weekend Got Ruined...What's A Gal To Do?

It's all fine and dandy to make plans. It's a whole different ball game when your body decides that you're not going to be able to follow through on them. That was the case for me this past weekend. I had hoped to look at some lyrics of the band Leeland to prepare myself for an upcoming performance at my church. You see, I am a volunteer interpreter for the Deaf at my church, Harvest Christian Fellowship, but have not been able to participate since having Alfred implanted. This past Sunday was going to be my first time back in the saddle—so to speak—since surgery. My body, however, had different things in mind. Saturday, instead, was spent in bed with earphones in listening to Michael Buble—man, his voice is like buttuh...just soothes the soul!

I thought I was coming down with a cold...sneezes...runny nose...but my chronic vertigo was in full swing and THAT'S what was giving me the most trouble. Honestly, I thought it was because I was coming down with a cold. I got myself together by Saturday evening to go out to Orange County—home of Disneyland and Knott's Berry Farm—to have dinner with my brother for his birthday and then it was right back into my Pjs. Dramamine and I had become best friends by that point in the hopes that I would be able to make it to church the next morning and DEFINITELY the next night so that I would be able to interpret for Leeland...

4:45am and I'm STILL dizzy!

The Dramamine didn't help me—maybe it did for an hour—and now I'm tired on top of feeling dizzy and cold-ish. What's a gal to do?! I made tea...it's the logical thing to do! With some more Dramamine and a little cold medicine on board, it was back to bed for me! I was SO bummed that I wasn't going to make it to interpret for Leeland at church, but what use would I be if I'm tipping over?!?! As it turned out, I was having a private Michael Buble concert in my bedroom...on my iPod---the cheapest concert ever.

I have learned that I have to accept things as they come with my body. I cannot control the ups and the downs that it wants to take, so I just have to go with the flow. Sure, it's frustrating and I just wish there was a Cure-All shot or pill that I could take so that I could get on with life uninhibited, but that's not the way that it is. Instead I have to just pop in a little Michael Buble or classical or heavy metal and wait for the episode to pass. It kind of stinks that it has to be that way, but at least for now I have the best—and cheapest—seats for a Michael Buble concert!

Batman Isn't the Only One Who Has His Alfred—I've Got One Too!

It's been 46 days since I've had Alfred put in—such an important anniversary—and life had been interesting, better, the same, and different, all wrapped up into one. I never went into the gastric neurostimulator surgery thinking that my life would be back to normal. I never went into it thinking that I would get better—there is no such thing with Gastroparesis. I went into it hoping for relief and you know what? I've gotten some. By no stretch of the imagination is it perfect. There have been a couple of days within those 46 where I just wanted to curl up and die...but did you notice that I only said “a couple”? It used to be pretty much every day.

I still find myself not all that interested in food—which I knew Alfred wouldn't help—and struggling to eat the food in front of me. The game of eenie meenie miney mo between water and food is fought every day because, if I drink too much, then I won't eat. If I eat, then I won't drink...so I have to try and find that balance. Here's a hint:: I haven't found it quite yet. I have mastered the art of the hip-hitch when I sit—no, I'm not tooting—otherwise, Alfred pokes me in the hip or the ribs. My surgeon said that there's only a small space between my ribs and hip so they found the best place possible and that's where they put the “pocket” that Alfred sits in. I know that it's just going to take time to get used to, so pardon the way I'm sitting.

Slowly I've made connections to when I've had my bad days, like after playing tennis—yes, tennis—at work with my student, playing football with him—yes, football—and holding little babies and passing them back and forth and to and fro. I'm discovering that I haven't quite recovered enough to do that...just yet. I'm wanting Alfred to launch me into the Olympics or something when I need to stop and wait for him to just get me through lunch! Small steps.

Maybe that should be my motto: Small steps...but I think I'll go with.................... ba na na na na BATMAN!

The Spoon Theory....No The Knife Differential Is Not Coming Later

[Please click on the highlighted "Spoon Theory" and read it in it's entirety to completely understand it]

Recently I was introduced to The Spoon Theory. It's a very interesting Theory and those who can relate to it call themselves Spoonies. Personally, I can relate to it in that, I have to think "how tired will [insert activity here] make me?" "If I do [insert activity here] will I be able to [insert a different activity here] later?" and so on and so forth. That's something, I think, people who do not have an illness of any kind, stop and think about. Showers, cooking, eating, getting up and down out of chairs is exhausting--but it's a fact of life. It's something that's shaped and molded me into the person that I am today and, while I am tired, in a way, I think I am a stronger person for it.

I grew up an athlete and dancer. I started dancing when I was two, doing tap and ballet at the YMCA--so use your imagination about how good I was. And then I moved over to Freddie Finn Dance Studio. When I was 8 years old I started playing softball and soccer, two sports I played well into my teenage years. Softball, though, was something I excelled at; however, dancing is what I miss. Some time in middle school I did BMX bicycle racing...for about five minutes. I've done it all. So, I like to do things. I like to hike, I like to 4x4, I like to swim, but with Gastroparesis...mmm...I have to be calculating. I've done Zumba as a Gastroparesis patient--shook my groove-thing like every other lady in that dance room, but then it became too much...a spoon, you see. I used to go walking around the block--a COUNTRY bloc--in my neighborhood, but then it became too much...a spoon, you see.

I'm stubborn though, there are just some things that I will not give up even though they tire me out--interpreting for the Deaf, going to the park with friends and family, camping, hiking, exploring, working, playing. There are some parts of me that I am just not willing to give up. It'll cost me sleep. It'll cost me what little food I eat. It'll mean some physical pain. But it meant that I got to do fun stuff and I life doing fun stuff...I'm actually quite insane--at least in my own mind!

There really are people out there who have to be more frugal about their activities and I get that--I'm a lucky one. Please continue to have fun with me! I still like to laugh. I still like to goof off. I'm still Christine who will poke fun at you if you do something silly, trust me, I just get a little tired every once and a while. 

 

Gastroparesis Waits For No Man.

You know that saying "time waits for no man"?--I'm sure that it was someone old that came up with it. Well, Gastroparesis waits for no woman, job, plan, friend...nothing. Gastroparesis is on its own timeline, it's own schedule. It does not care if you just brushed your teeth or just put your make-up on. It does not care if you were only able to "eat" a couple of ounces of your breakfast. It does not care if you are on your way to work or at work. Like I said, Gastroparesis waits for no woman. 

So, what do you do?

Panic?

Cry?

Throw a tantrum?

All of those are viable, plausible options. But let's be adults about this. 

We can't give up.

We can't give in.

So what do we do?!?

I try my best to march on with my routine--with a little case of bloodshot eyes. On the way to work, I treat myself to a nice high calorie Starbucks drink--nice ruse huh?--and try to march on through my day. What happens if the flare continues at work? Inform those I work with what's going on. It's good for people to be informed--slightly awkward for some, but they'll get over it--and good in case an emergency occurs, which hasn't happened yet. 

I also sip on water as much as possible to stay hydrated. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it hinders, but working on the theory that I'm hoping SOMETHING is staying in and helping me, I sip on water....S-L-O-W-L-Y. If I find that it's only making it worse, then I stop. 

If all else fails...Zofran. I always carry Zofran with me so that I can toss one back if need be. Personally, I hold off taking medicines until I just can't take it anymore, but everyone's different. Zofran usually does the trick, but not always. I've noticed since getting Alfred, it seems to work better. Prior to that, I preferred Phenergan; however, that stuff makes me sleepy. 

As always I use humor. 

Laughter. 

Smiles.

Busy myself. 

I'm sure you're thinking "Christine, I feel like roadkill, run over by a Mack truck, stamped on by a horse!" I know! I can relate! 

Here's another saying for you, "kill them with kindness", it applies, no? If I can smile or laugh my way through whatever I'm experiencing at the time--and I realize that staring down the barrel of the toilet bowl is no laughing matter, but I'm a firm believer in finding humor in everything--then I am not allowing my situation, my circumstance to win. If I cry, panic, or throw a tantrum I won't gain anything...except an ulcer and my poor tummy can't handle that!