In Sickness and Health (and a Baked Potato)

I’ve had a lot of people asking what’s going on with my health the last few weeks. You all have seen some of my posts on social media about my dietary restrictions, noticed that I am drinking things like vegan protein shakes, eating gluten-free bread, and you know that it doesn’t seem like something a Southern food-loving girl such a myself would willing do: and you’d be right.

I have been having digestive nightmares issues since late October of last year, and no one can seem to figure out why. Something akin to a stomach bug suddenly came upon me, and has never fully let go. Suddenly, foods I used to be able to eat without any problem have become foods that make me sick. It’s a good thing I had bulked up quite a bit to begin with, because eliminating processed foods, fried foods, fatty foods, dairy, and any and everything else I could think of that might possibly make me ill has caused me to shed some serious pounds. The problem lies with the fact that, ten months into this adventure, we still haven’t really reached a diagnosis.

Before anyone tries their well-meaning best to contact me with suggestions, I am working with some good professionals to solve the mystery. We have run lots of (super fun!) tests and have already ruled out lots of scary possibilities, and by sheer process of elimination, we have to get to the bottom of this at some point (right?). We already know I don’t have colitis, Crohn’s, celiac, cancer, or a whole host of infectious diseases (although you never saw a woman so sad not to have an infectious disease…they can give you antibiotics for that and you can resume eating grilled cheese sandwiches).

Last week, after meeting with a dietician and at the advice of my gastroenterologist, I started the FODMAP diet. Most lucky people have never heard of the FODMAP diet, Lord, I wish I hadn’t, but FODMAP is an acronym for fermentable oligosaccharides, disaccharides, monosaccharides and polyols, which are carbohydrates that the small intestine absorbs poorly. Some people experience digestive distress after eating them. The diet is an elimination diet where you cut out high FODMAP foods and then slowly reintroduce them to figure out what you can tolerate, in what portion sizes, without feeling bad.

It’s not an easy diet to follow, because these FODMAPs are in the darndest things: wheat, garlic, and onion are the ones for me that stand out as the toughest to avoid. Garlic and onion are in everything! Try eating out and navigating a menu when you can’t have even a smidge of garlic or onion powder. There are even some strange things that I would have never thought to avoid, like celery and watermelon. I have been on diets since elementary school and I thought I had tried them all, but never have I ever been on a diet that restricted my celery intake. I keep telling myself it’s only temporary, and I have said multiple times that I will do anything to feel better; I just didn’t realize when I said that, it meant giving up bowls of fresh summer watermelon sprinkled with salt.

As I mentioned, eating out during the strictest phase of this diet is rough. I would rather just stay home in my pajamas and eat my diet food alone until this ordeal passes, thankyouverymuch. But Friday night we had two friends’ birthdays to celebrate, and I do not miss a chance to celebrate, garlic and onion bedamned. The dietician recommended eating at a steakhouse since steak, simple salad, and a plain baked potato were probably the easiest way to stay on track in a restaurant setting, and our friends kindly obliged. We made reservations at The Palm (a true hardship), and I was excited to at least get a break from all the meal preparation I have been doing.

I looked at the menu Thursday night in advance and started (as is my nature) to fret. It turns out, The Palm doesn’t offer baked potatoes as a side. They have French fries and hash browns, neither of which is good for yours truly to consume. I started worrying out loud while Clint was trying to watch TV. “If they have potatoes there, they can make you a potato,” he said, barely glancing up from his Netflix. “Baked potatoes take forever to prepare in the oven and I am quite certain there are no microwaves at The Palm!” I agonized. Oh well, I have reached the stage in this digestive game where I am quite used to a lack of food. Steak and a salad it would be. Who needs sustenance? Not me.

And then, Friday afternoon, I got this text message from the hubby:

Y’all. I have read all about the love languages and I’m telling you, they should add “Baked Potato” to the list because this was huge. I hadn’t even thought to call ahead and help myself out with a special request. What an idea! Food, all for me! I was giddy all the way to the restaurant. This is how you show your spouse you care: spuds!

Arriving at The Palm and feeling like a VIP: Very Important Potato Consumer.

One special order spud, all for me.

We had a lovely dinner, and that potato was delicious. On our way out, the hostess asked our group which one of us had requested a baked potato. When I proudly raised my hand, she giddily told us they are one of her favorite foods, but since they are not on the menu, she only gets them when a customers asks for one and she always asks the kitchen to make two, one for her as well. So I had my potato, and she got her potato, too. Win-win.

By now, you’re probably thinking my hubby is a saint and we should all gather ‘round as a hallelujah chorus, singing his praises. Yes, it was such a thoughtful thing to do and I give him lots of credit, and an A plus for effort. But as he pointed out to our friends a dinner that evening, brownie points that a man accumulates are very fleeting; they cannot be banked for future use and they expire oh-so quickly. My case in point:

That’s our Saturday morning breakfast, in which Clint got his sausage McMuffin from McDonald’s and I had an egg white frittata with vegan cheese. I suppose all good things must come to an end, even baked potato-fueled fairy tales. I bet McMuffins don’t taste as good when you have to listen to your wife deep sigh beside you the entire time you are trying to eat it, but you will have to ask Clint about that. The diet is only temporary, and hopefully it will yield some answers about what foods are best for me to eat. And while we say that points for good behavior expire in rapid fashion, you can believe I will remember that special order baked potato for quite some time.