I hate my all-fitness, all-fast, no-fun diet! A few years ago, I went to my doctor to find out why (after having three days of panic and Xanax) when I swallowed, my throat clicked, and my throat felt excessively full (save the dirty jokes, folks…). I felt like I couldn’t breathe and yet I could. Again, psychosomatic symptoms plague me despite the now disclosed and diagnosed physical cause.
Next I scheduled an appointment with an ENT who stuck a fiber optic tube down my throat and diagnosed me with Laryngopharyngeal Reflux aka Silent Reflux (silent for the quiet suffering and self-mocking you endure). You’re not allowed to drink alcohol, anything caffeinated, anything carbonated. Forget about smoking which I, thankfully, never started even though I cannot tell you how many people assume I smoke or once did despite my clothes never smelling, the absence of cigarette butts and nary a yellow stain on my fingernails and teeth. Must be that sexy Demi Moore voice I use…HAH!
Also, I cannot enjoy spicy foods (I’m crying about the lack of BBQ) or fried foods which I really am not a fan of, anyway. Citrus fruits are forbidden which rules out Margaritas and Mojitos. Orange juice always made me sick, so I’m glad we’re forever parting ways. And the love of my life, dark chocolate, has been irreparably broken due to my weak throat and reflux issues. I couldn’t be unhappier about the loss of several of these items and bawled for a weekend. You try giving up the last vices left to you and see how you fare! No, I’m not taking up scrapbooking in lieu of my vices.
So the first year, I did pretty well, giving up coffee and other fun, enjoyable pastimes and enduring the medication (I’d prefer a natural cure, instead of medication, but I don’t know that this is possible.) I am lucky I like water which apparently is somewhat of a miracle salve for sufferers of reflux in general. My ENT examined my throat within the first six months and proclaimed my throat at a B+. Slowly but surely I arrogantly assumed that I was nearing permanent healing, enough so that six months later, when he suggested I taper down to one dose per day, I embraced the change.
Well, instead of adhering to my diet and gradually reintroducing the “evil poisons” I love into my body, I went a little crazy. Not that I binge drank or ate, I just let myself drink a daily cup of coffee , an occasional gin and tonic (my favorite “old man” drink) and ate squares of the deepest, darkest chocolate without regret. Besides, who celebrates their 40th birthday with water, angel food cake and a plain, broiled chicken breast?!? Isn’t that your last hurrah before old age?!?
Soon after that, some stressful situations arose, and some heated discussions over these situations also came up. I felt critiqued, poked and prodded for decisions I needed to make and couldn’t avoid. I could feel my throat flood with burning hot fluid and, from that point on, my hoarseness returned along with swallowing issues and panic over the whole ordeal. I immediately realized how I needed to revert back to my fitness-fast-no fun regimen or suffer all night like I did the night before.
I woke up at the witching hour of three with nothing but a whole lot of shaking going on — it was me disrupting, not delighting, my husband. So my body betrayed me and told me that I should adhere to it or else suffer the consequences and reprimands of my doctor when I see him. So if I seem a little melancholy or cranky or refuse a cocktail, please understand that it’s not me, it’s them — all the vices I love which don’t love me.
This is an original post for JerseyMomsBlog by M.B. Sanok who is also the Executive Editor for South Jersey Mom magazine.