Eating Well, Living Well

A Period of Adjustment

The first year of my diagnosis was weird. I don't know how else to describe it.  I went through a lot of basic adjustment, trying to get a grip on my health, to gain a new understanding of my body, and to figure out what the heck I was supposed to do next.  Prescriptions were the first thing that came along with the diagnosis. I remember being prescribed Tramadol for the pain; I can hear the jokes I used to make with a then friend of mine, "Take two and call me in the morning." I can laugh at it now, not that I didn't then, but after a while two didn't really cut it and it really wasn't funny anymore.

As many women do, I experienced a lot of body issues growing up; I was athletic (I played soccer and lacrosse in middle school and my freshman year of high school, and was a member of the women's lacrosse club in college), but not enough to have really sculpted muscles.  I'm on the short side, and have the frame for an athlete, but not enough drive for it to be a huge part of daily schedule (I'll talk about exercise in another post, because I, of course, have my two cents on it and it may surprise you). I never thought of myself as thin, just healthy, and that was all I really wanted: to look and feel healthy. When I the pain started, I found it difficult to move, to get out of bed, and just live. When I started on the prescription pain killers, it helped enough to get me to my job and to my parent's house, and occasionally to the grocery store for food and to cook for myself. In all honesty, I didn't really feel like it though. I found myself gaining weight here and there, whereas the year before I was eating healthy and going to the gym for a little cardio and strength training.

The more pain I was in, the more I stopped going to the gym and the more comfort food I let myself have.  Eventually, the pain medication I had was not enough, and I would increase my dosage (bad girl!). The combination of all these things lead to more weight, which lead to more pain- it's a cycle really, and it was trap I fell into.  The healthy image I wanted for myself was slipping away, and in 2008 it became worse.

I had started a new job, which ended up being really stressful, so of course my pain levels increased and my then prescription did little to alleviate. With my new job came a lot of time in the car and the need for excessive energy (it was a marketing job- I had to be a peppy little cheerleader for 90% of my day).  Since I was on the road a lot and needed "extra energy" (that's almost funny now too), I would down large amounts of energy drinks, and stop for a quick bite to eat at the nearest fast food joint- usually some place I could get a fully loaded cheeseburger. I even saw a new doctor to treat my pain, who put me a drug cocktail of Lyrica, Abilify, and Lexapro. I'm sure that combination works for some people, but for me, I found myself lethargic, my digestive track was messed up, and was almost unable to drive (not what you want when you are in marketing). To combat this, I chugged more energy drinks, switching to sugar free thinking it would be "better" for me. Ha! In one month, I gained 40 lbs and felt no better than I had before. I was told there was a period of adjustment, and everything would level out, and blahblahblah.  After almost three months, I had to stop. It wasn't working, I was miserable, felt unhealthy, and the cost of buying my meds was like lighting dynamite to my bank account. I couldn't afford any of the costs- financial or health. Beyond my physical discomfort from the weight gain, I started to feel like the inside of my body was a toxic dumping ground.
I had been prescribed physical therapy too, but at $100 a session (for 10 sessions), of which my insurance did not cover a dime, I just couldn't do it. I decided my money would be better spent at the gym with a personal trainer (and I will tell this story in another post, because it too is lengthy).

A few months went by; I was off my little drug cocktail, had started working out at the gym again (very slowly with well planned routines).  I started thinking more about what I had put my body through- the fast food stops, the super size energy drinks, the stress, and the medication. Once the effects of the prescriptions wore off, the feeling of being a walking toxic waste dump really grew on me. In October of 2008, I was terminated from my marketing position for not bringing in the numbers (I was told I was just not mean enough and there were no open positions for me to transfer into).  At first I was devastated, but after a week saw my chance to start over as a blessing in disguise. And so, that January I started working for a local natural food store, and my life changed once more.

"When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."

I had already started paying more attention to what I was eating. I had started making my own food instead of going out to get it.  It took more time to do, but there is something about being involved in making what I was going to eat that brought my mind and body together. I was starting to feel a greater sense of harmony and balance, and more importantly I was starting to feel less animosity towards my self.  While I was working for the natural food store, I learned more about eating healthy foods, about how important it is to read the labels and to know where your food comes from. I felt like I had been completely miseducated about food up to that point. As a kid, I remember we didn't keep table salt around- it was only used while the food was cooking, but never as seasoning on the table. We didn't eat a lot of red meat, and we always had skim milk. I had always considered my family a healthy family; we didn't overeat and our diets were mostly well balanced. Overall, I felt like I had a healthy attitude towards food.

In the months that followed after beginning my new part-time job, I absorbed information about food and eating well.  I wanted to cleanse my body from all I had put into it, and I felt like I had the means to do so. So, I learned about label reading. I learned about organics versus conventional food. I learned about local versus supermarket suppliers.  I learned about different food movements- like vegetarian, vegan, raw, and gluten free. I learned cooking could be fun, and not a chore. And I learned that living in harmony with my body was so much better than trying to tame it and beating it down with medication. (NOTE: This is NOT the case for everyone, consult your physician about your pain medication and ways to manage your pain. I am only speaking from experience.)

I tried different dietary options, the most challenging being the raw foods diet, which I still want to do, but need to really focus on how it works (its especially tough if you have children). The one thing I have been able to stick to the longest and that helps the most is eating an almost exclusive organic diet. There are some things we don't buy organic because of the cost; rice for example is a staple in our home, and to buy organic brown rice would really break the bank, but we never buy "instant" rice.

If you decide to explore different diet options to help manage your pain, I recommend consulting with your physician and maybe even a nutritionist. Here are some things I have tried, reflected on, and might be an option for you.

Organic Food 

It may seem costly at first, or maybe you don't have access to organic foods (I know some small town grocery stores have a limited selection), but organic foods have become a key player in my pain management.  When I kicked processed food to the curb, and went organic, I not only started losing weight immediately, but I felt better just as quickly. Over time, my body has adjusted to the organic lifestyle, and I can tell when I'm eating organic and when I am not. The more I read labels on food packaging, the more I didn't like what I saw.  If you have never read the label on your food before start wit

Departure: The end of one journey, and the start of another

I have moved and traveled for the majority of my short life. I was born in Texas and moved to Kentucky, Virginia, and Maryland before I reached my freshman year of high school. At the end of my sophomore year, my mom moved to Montreal, where I lived with her for a year before moving back to Maryland to live with my dad for my senior year of high school. After graduation, I wanted to move back north, and found myself in the Eastern Townships of Quebec for 4 years of college. In college, I moved from campus, to an off-campus apartment, and then back to campus again. During that time, my dad and step-mom moved to Indiana to care for their aging relatives, where I joined them after graduating. I am no stranger to moving, relocating, and starting over, and have always considered myself able to adapt to new things in my life with ease. I dreamed of living and working in Paris or London, enticed by the idea of big city living, in foreign places; I day dreamed about holidays spent in traveling through Europe, possibly going to Southeast Asia and all points beyond. There were no limits to where my imagination could take me, no journey I wouldn't embark on if given the opportunity; I knew where my roots were, but I wanted to see how far my wings could take me. 

It was 2007, and I was waking up for work. My alarm had gone off, and I had just begun to open my eyes to the sunshine that had flooded my apartment. It was almost summer, and already getting warm inside and out of my one-bedroom. I had the brief flickering thought that I was possibly late for work, and as the panic set in I realized I would never forget this morning. I thought I was going to scream, but I wasn't sure that would really resolve the intense pain I was feeling. It didn't take long for me to realize the cause of my intense discomfort; my arms were crossed tightly across my body, my hands were clenched into fists and locked shut, my jaw was locked closed, and my legs were bent at my knees. I felt like my body was a discarded, crumpled piece of paper. I'm not sure how I managed to come untangled. I'm not even sure now how long it took, but it felt like hours before I could put my feet on the floor and drag myself to my shower.

The next few hours are fuzzy, a now common occurrence in my life. I remember driving to work almost two hours late, explaining to my boss over the phone the intense pain I was feeling. I remember my tears were hot streaming down my face, and I was grateful for the flexibility in our office- I was wearing jeans and no make-up. I remember turning around when I was almost to work, convinced by my boss to call my doctor, stay home for the day, and rest. I remember the short burst of relief I felt when my doctor managed to fit me in that day, but my pain was still there. My doctor was able to give me a two week script for a pain killer, enough to get me by until I could see one of the three arthritis doctors she referred me to. When I asked what was wrong with me, she replied "It could be one of three things: rheumatoid arthritis, Lupus, or Fibromyalgia." None of my options sounded too good.

In between doctors’ visits, blood work, reading up on all three of my potential diagnoses, and waiting at the pharmacy for whatever remedies that could be supplied; I knew my life was changing. I felt like I was on a merry-go-round of emotions, contemplating my own mortality, doubting my sanity, and blaming myself and my actions for what I was going through (I thought my experience was part of some cosmic, universal punishment; my karmic fruit if you will). A few weeks later, my diagnosis was confirmed by a rheumatologist: Fibromylagia was the big winner.

That was the day I began my journey into something I knew nothing about- chronic pain. That was almost 5 years ago. I was 24.