July 2015: The time had come. I had organized for 6 weeks medical leave from work, possibly longer if needed. My mother had flown in from Canada to be with me during my hospital stay, and to help me during the recovery phase. I packed my little bag, devoid of any valuables or nice clothes. Just a few items I would need at the hospital. I said goodbye to my dogs and my cat. I took one long look back as I walked out the door, the kitchen counter covered in pill vials, which I left behind. What was going to happen to me?

We got to the hospital later that afternoon, after a 4-hour journey. I took a small bite of my husband’s lemon pound cake and a sip of his coffee, knowing I wouldn’t eat or drink for many days to come. I waited anxiously in the lobby of the hospital for what seemed like ages before they called my name. I got an ID bracelet, and was shown to my room on the 3rd floor, Medical Surgical Unit. Some patients were walking the halls with their thin, frail frames, pushing their IV poles along, many sporting nasogastric tubes, hanging from their sunken anemic faces.

I looked around my space, thinking of how lucky I was to have been given a private room where my mom could sleep beside me in the recliner. I put my belongings away and reluctantly changed into the hospital gown, and sat down on the bed. The radiology department quickly turned up, pushing a wheelchair, and told me I would be going down to fluoroscopy to have a peripherally inserted central catheter placed (PICC line). I obliged.

Once in fluoroscopy, the inner part of my upper arm was surgically prepared and drapes were placed over my entire body. I could see my heart beating on the screen above my head. “We are going to numb the area”, said one of the techs. They injected lidocaine and began digging with a very large needle attached to a much longer catheter. They had a lot of trouble because of how thin and wasted my arm was, telling me it was like putting a catheter in a small child. After a few failed attempts, they produced a specialist, who said he was going to place it. I watched on the screen as the catheter moved under the clavicle, landing in the superior vena cava. “We’re in!”

Once back in my room, the floor nurse came in – who might I add was rather delish – and told me he would be placing the NG tube. “Shit” I thought, “I’m going to gag and puke all over this guy!” Oh well… First attempt tore the tender tissue inside my nasal passage, and caused a pretty nice nosebleed. The other nostril was tried and success! It was in! I spent the next hour gagging and vomiting mucous from around the tube. Then that familiar raw feeling started in the back of my throat. Ouch! How was I going to stand it?!

As the night went on, my nurse brought more and more IV bags, and started my TPN. She fondly called it my “tree of life”. And now I was set up to wait for the big day. My mom got bedding for the recliner, and we found the TV channels which would provide entertainment for the days to come. My new addiction to HGTV’s Property Brothers was about to commence! I would also learn that watching cooking programs was comforting, for it gave me something to look forward to.

The days went on, and we got into a routine. First medical student showed up at 4:30 am sharp to evaluate. 5 am the blood lab. 5:30-6 am the team of surgeons who would be operating would come by to evaluate and give updates. By 8 am the floor was bustling with nurses and breakfast would come to the few patients who got fed. We occupied ourselves with TV shows, social media, and little walks around the halls. My TPN was going well. I felt like my body was happy for the nutrients, although I could feel myself losing more weight. I was now less than 110 lbs. Strangely, I was not hungry or thirsty. My mouth wasn’t dry, even though I hadn’t drank a drop for days. But my nose and throat was so sore from the tube, I needed morphine to get to sleep at night. Although, I couldn’t argue that I didn’t need it. They had already drained 3 litres of green slime from my intestine in the days before surgery…

Finally, it was the day before surgery. My surgeon came in the wee hours of the morning, but I felt more awake than ever. He told me my albumin level hadn’t budged and he wasn’t sure if I should have more time on TPN. I was devastated and panicked. I couldn’t bear the thought of another week with this NG tube awaiting surgery. That afternoon I called the floor doctor in to ask him what the hell was going on… Was I having surgery tomorrow or not?! He went running to the colorectal department to check on the status of my procedure. He reassured me – it is a GO. I gave him a delighted high-five, which I’m sure struck him as strange. I signed the consent forms, and hunkered down for the night.

It was the BIG DAY. My husband was on his way over. I was told the surgical unit will come for me at 10:30 am. Those few hours were long. Scary. My hands and feet were sweating. I was thinking – what if I don’t make it through anesthesia? What if this surgery doesn’t go well? Will I have an ileostomy bag when I wake? What if I’m still sick after all this? These thoughts would reel through my brain until I kissed my mom and husband goodbye, and was wheeled off into the holding area.

There I was, staring down the hall of the surgery floor. To one side, a large window revealed a group of surgeons in gowns under bright lights, performing an operation. On the opposite wall was a rack filled with suture material. I couldn’t help but marvel at the variety! Then I met my anesthetic team and answered some questions. A member of the surgical team came over and held my hand, telling me I would be okay. She asked me to identify myself and then describe the procedure I was to have in my own words. Then I was rolled in. I was asked to move onto the surgery table from the bed. At the end of the room, there was a surgeon already scrubbed in, organizing the open surgical pack. There must have been 200 instruments. My jaw dropped… and then I felt woozy. One of the nurses had injected my port with midazolam. Then a mask descended over my face. She instructed me, “Take deep breaths.” Suddenly the lights went out…

I was slowly coming into consciousness. I opened my eyes a bit, and saw a nurse hovering around me. And then… PAIN, NAUSEA, MORE PAIN… HOLY HELL, my kidneys felt like they were on fire, and that fire was spreading throughout my abdomen! I patted my abdomen to see if I had a bag and felt a mound of something… I have one. Oh well… “GIVE ME SOMETHING FOR THE PAIN!” The nurse refused, telling me I had had enough medication. When I got up to my room, my mom rushed over, exclaiming “No bag! No bag!” I couldn’t even react… I looked at my nurse and said “I am in so much pain, please help me!” The nurse looked at what had been given and quickly determined I could have a lot more… Bless her soul, she took off running and came back with 2 mg Dilaudid, which she promptly injected into my port. Suddenly it was as though my abdomen was compartmentalized, and each unit had pain switch… off, off, off, then I felt nothing, then I slept. I must have slept for 10 hours straight, only waking every 4 hours to be asked “Would you like your pain medication”. Yes. Of course I did.

The next day I felt like I could process information.  The surgeon came in and told me I had about a foot of intestine removed from the jejunum (the middle part of the small intestine) and two fistulas taken down. I was in the OR about 5 hours, and in recovery for 2 hours. He told me there was no visible disease in the terminal ileum, contrary to all prior imaging. He said it was not at all what they were expecting. No wonder no one could ever get a biopsy! It wasn’t reachable by endoscope! It made a lot of sense. Histopathology was pending, which would confirm if it was truly Crohn’s or something else. He told me he thought it went very well and I would make an excellent recovery. Once he was gone I focused on my body. I was so bloated and pale. I inspected my incisions. I had two keyhole incisions, one below my left rib, and one above the left side of my pelvis, and then a longer incision around my belly button. I sat up with some difficulty. My abdomen felt hot and fluid-filled inside. I had a urinary catheter in place, and my reservoir was half filled with dark urine. My nasogastric tube was still in, but I no longer cared. Within a few hours the nurse got me up to take my first few steps. I walked a little way, and returned to my bed for more pain medication. I was told I must take 10 breaths on the incentive spirometer every hour I was awake, and needed to walk the halls 5 times per day starting the next day.

Two days post-op, I had my urinary catheter and my NG tube pulled. I couldn’t have been happier to get rid of these tubes!!! I felt a bit stronger, and tried hard to do all the walking that was expected of me. They still had me on TPN but promised some clear liquids later in the day. I was stoked to receive some repulsive broth and jello! Hurrah! I was swallowing something other than my own saliva for a change!

The following day they brought me a tray full of food… Um… That didn’t seem right. I reluctantly located some gruel pretending to be oatmeal and had a few bites. I was really scared to over eat with my intestine healing. The thought of anything solid passing through that freshly anastomosed segment made me cringe! The next day, I attempted solid food. The day after that I ate a little too much at once and it did hurt as my compromised bowel stretched a bit…

One week post-op I was released. My mom and I checked into a local hotel on the doctor’s advice. I didn’t want to go all the way home in case I had a problem. We rested and walked around the resort, and talked a lot. Then my husband took us back home. I saw my dogs and my cat. And my kitchen counter with the pill vials. Pills I wasn’t going to take again for a long long time, hopefully. I put them in the drawer.

I haven’t vomited since before my surgery. Not once. I haven’t felt that crippling, searing abdominal pain either. I have been able to enjoy food. I could probably eat anything now, but I am still careful. I have gained 30 lbs… 15 too many – haha!  Though, I can’t complain.                          

                                           I am alive. 

May 2015:  We had just bit the bullet and eloped in Vegas. Newly married, we were planning a major honeymoon vacation in South Africa. We would see my husband’s family, who live in Pretoria, we would explore Cape Town, and the surrounding wine region; and finally, we would have the luxury Safari experience of a lifetime! It was all planned for August…

And you guessed it, what happened next: the bowels started up again. Crippling agony and projectile vomiting were daily events. And the SMELL of the vomit could only be described as days old fecal matter. My ankles were swelling, the pitting edema was so severe that I needed to wear support stockings every day to control it. I tried Stricture Heal multiple times, to no avail. It was too far gone. I knew I needed some serious help…

I booked an appointment with my gastroenterologist, who immediately scheduled a CT scan. I went the following week, and results showed what I already knew. The stricture was worsening, and my bowels were partially obstructed. My doctor offered me two options: endoscopic balloon dilation, or bowel resection surgery. With surgery as a last resort in my mind, I scheduled the endoscopy procedure, knowing it was only a temporary fix. I so desperately wanted to be normal for a while, to go on my honeymoon, and not have to worry…

I asked for a copy of the CT scan results… turns out my doctor only read half the report! I also had an enteroenteric fistula. And the stricture was long… about 12 cm. I knew realistically that a balloon procedure wasn’t going to be the answer. I was frustrated with my doctor’s complacence towards my condition, and sought a second opinion.

I scored an appointment with another gastroenterologist, recommended to us by our lawyer. He is on the board of directors of the Crohn’s and Colitis Foundation of America. This couldn’t be a bad thing! He took one look at my CT report and said, “Honestly, you need surgery. You are going to feel so much better if you do.” He scheduled a consult with who he believes to be the best colorectal surgeon in America, at Cleveland Clinic in Weston, Florida.

I traveled to Weston some 3 weeks later for my consult. A team of surgeons determined that a bowel resection and take down of the fistula was in my best interest. However, my albumin level was so low, they were concerned about post-op healing. They planned to admit me to the hospital one week in advance of the surgery to decompress the bowels, via nasogastric suction, and place a PICC line to start me on Total Parenteral Nutrition (TPN). In feeding me intravenously, and allowing my bowel a period of rest pre-operatively, they felt I would have better chances of healing and making a recovery. The idea of enduring this was terrifying, but I knew there was no alternative. Well there was – and it was a slow death by starvation and eventual sepsis. Surgery it was!…

It’s been a while Crohnies. Just as I’ve been flaky on this blog, I’ve apparently been a flaky friend. Today I’m going to address Crohnies as “flakes”… Since that’s what many of our friends might label us for our behaviours when talking behind our backs.

If you have Crohn’s you will know what it’s like to have to cancel plans frequently. In fact, because we know we might be unavailable for said occasions, we are often non-committal in our scheduling. 

I work a hectic, demanding, energy-draining career… (Well, being a Gypsy is a hell of a job ya know!) Juggling work, house chores, pets, a fiancé with a 7-day-a-week restaurant business and friends can be daunting. 

Most people my age are healthy as lions. Some party almost every night of the week and get by… Others manage to keep all their ducks in a row while still maintaining a job, fitness regimen and social schedule, seemingly effortlessly. Must be nice. 

What I ask for from people is understanding. While they might not be able to put themselves in my shoes (because they have never really been sick in their whole lives!) it would be nice for an ounce of respect when it comes to my low points with this disease. Yes I cancel out on plans. Yes I am often late. Sometimes I can barely stand up for fatigue and pain. Sometimes I haven’t eaten any solid food in 2 days and I am weak. What I don’t need on top of this is criticism and a guilt trip. 

This has actually gotten to me to the point of doing some online reading. Boy are there some hateful quotes about flaky people. I even questioned myself: “Do I have a major character flaw? Am I really a ‘flake?'” But when I started re-reading blogs by fellow Crohnies, I felt the sense of camaraderie. WE ARE NOT FLAKES, WE ARE SICK. 

Then I felt angry. How dare people misjudge me. How dare they give me that look when I tell them I’m feeling unwell, like, “Oh you’re sick AGAIN?!” Wouldn’t it be nice to live in a body that wasn’t painful, to eat and not worry about obstructions or vomiting and diarrhea for days after your meal? Wouldn’t it be nice to have a normal energy level and be able to maintain a healthy full social schedule? The truth is, they don’t understand. 

When I finally have energy after a few good days, you know what? I have to prioritize. What NEEDS tending to today before I have to work again tomorrow? (Work isn’t exactly negotiable!) Well paying bills and taking care of family take precedence over casual time with a friend. Not to say friends are unimportant. Girlfriends are vital! Unfortunately it boils down to our limitations with this disease. 

This post has been my first major venting session. Perhaps because there isn’t anyone I can talk to about this who really understands. (Well, my mother does. She’s my rock.) 

What I aim to get through to you is this: don’t beat yourself up as I have. Don’t feel guilty or a lesser person because you can’t always follow through. Even if none of your friends understand you, I do. 

Below I will post some quotes that I found therapeutic. I hope you will too. 

I sign off here, dearest fellow mangled-intestines. May your bowels be with you even longer than your so-called friends! 

~ CROHN’S GYPSY 

All you Crohnies need to get yourself a library started. Obviously read Breaking The Vicious Cycle by Elaine Gottschall. Once you get well on your way to trying a diet, pick up some recipe books. If you’re following the SCD, you will have to be careful to refer to the Legal/Illegal lists because many of the Grain-Free/Gluten-Free recipes will still need tweaking!

Happy Healthy Guts Peeps!

Here’s mine:

It’s been a while since posting AGAIN. I guess part of the reason I’ve been MIA is that I have been avoiding admitting to my blog followers that I fell off my Gypsy wagon. I did 2 solid months on the SCD diet and boy did I feel better. After Christmas time cheats and NYE festivities, traveling to NYC (home of the delicious pizza pie) and Vegas (home of everything sinful), I just slowly gave up. Why would I stop doing something that could potentially heal my diseased bowel? Something that could prevent another life-threatening bowel obstruction? It sounds really stupid to say I quit something that could save my life!

This post is not like my others. I don’t have a lot of helpful or encouraging words this time. Instead I admit that it is difficult following a strict diet. Basic instinct drives us towards selecting things that bring immediate gratification. This is why many dieters fail and often end up heavier than they were before they started. Depriving ourselves of immediate pleasure for a greater reward that comes later is always easier said than done. However the SCD diet is even harder than counting calories and saying NO to that slice of pie after dinner. It’s saying NO to grains of any kind, dairy, sugar, and starchy veggies. Not being able to dine out at restaurants or go to a friends place for a meal. Where having a piece of chocolate doesn’t delete the dieters last week of calorie-burning efforts, having that one chocolate deletes the SCDers past several months of efforts. SCD is sort of an all-or-none diet in my mind. Perhaps that’s why I felt so hopeless.

Anything that requires strong human will power is bound to have its failures. Anything worth having (including one’s health) is hard work. Like overcoming an addiction, giving up certain foods and a way of life sometimes feels impossible. We need to find strength from somewhere! Friends, family, blogs of success stories in the weirdest places… We need these to refresh and inspire us to commit. We need not to forget our mission amidst the hustle and bustle of day-to-day life!

On an up note, I do promise to post more often. I have had some very uplifting comments from some fellow bloggers and because of your positivity I’m feeling a renewed sense of Gypsy determination.

I am also planning on investigating the principles of low-FODMAP diet. I am not kidding myself in any way that one diet is a cure-all for Crohn’s. I am planning to see what might be best suited to my lifestyle and starting a food journal. Stay tuned, and may your GI tract stay with you!

“One of the most dangerous forms of human error is forgetting what one is trying to achieve.”

~ Paul Nitze

I’m sorry for anyone still loyal enough to check my blog. I’ve been MIA for a while due to life circumstances. Luckily this time no hospital visits… But my fiancé and I have opened an Organic Café! It had been insanely busy I have not been able to write.

Knowing where our food comes from is getting more and more difficult these days. Modern day farming and mass production means chemical-laden and genetically-modified foods are the majority of our intake… Unless we actively seek the natural alternative. The human body has not evolved at the same rate our foods have (we don’t have the ability to digest the GMOs and degrade the chemicals). Is this why we have a tremendous spike in gastrointestinal disease?

When I think back to my childhood, I remember my mother always made an effort to cook us healthy, wholesome and balanced meals. There was always meat and vegetables on our plate. Despite our British heritage (which meant every Sunday having a rather brown looking dinner of roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy! Yummm!) she made sure there was always something green on our plates. As a teenager I adopted a vegetarian diet and developed anorexia nervosa. For three years or so I was underweight and ate primarily bagels with a rather processed vegetarian microwaveable burger for dinner. My mother and father could not persuade me otherwise, and I think were just happy I was eating something. I recovered from anorexia and began eating a more varied diet. I went off to University where I ate a variety of foods, but much of it was processed and eaten on the run. That’s when my symptoms started. Did stress start the cascade of inflammation or was it diet that slowly eroded my bowel lining? Probably both. I didn’t ever considered eating organic. If we had grown our own foods on our own healthy soil, would I be sick today?

Have you ever eaten a ripe organic tomato off the vine and compared it to the imported grocery store tomato? I dare you.

I challenge my Gypsy followers to examine their dietary history. Where did it all go wrong? In our fast-paced world is it possible to avoid these toxic indigestible substances?

Check out this link where Jini Patel Thompson discusses organic foods:

http://www.listen2yourgut.com/conventional-organic.php

A healthy organic meal at our restaurant!

Hello Crohnies! Sorry for the lack of posting recently. Apparently I’m not the most consistent blogger… But to be fair I have had a lot on my plate. And more than just SCD food!

About a month ago I started experiencing some weird sensations. Tingling and numbness on patches of my body, but primarily my arms and legs and the side of my face. Naturally I became very worried and started doing some immediate research.

Many different conditions can cause peripheral neuropathy, but one of them is severe, prolonged B12 vitamin deficiency. As many of you are already aware, vitamin deficiency is very common in Crohn’s disease or any disease that results in malabsorption or small intestinal bacterial overgrowth (SIBO).

I immediate started taking 4 mg of B12 sublingually daily. I did this for about a week prior to getting blood testing for B12 deficiency. My results actually came back high but I have to wonder if these were skewed by my high dose intake in the previous days. It is also possible that my symptoms are not due to B12 deficiency, but I will say I felt almost 100% better a few days after receiving a 1 mg B12 injection intramuscularly. Begs the question!

Another interesting tidbit regarding B12 levels: even though the reference interval in North America is 200-900 pg/ml symptoms of neuropathy can be seen when levels are lower than 500 pg/ml. In Japan the low end of the B12 reference interval is 500-550 pg/ml. Supplementation is done if levels are lower.

Furthermore, since tissue B12 concentrations don’t always correlate with serum levels, other tests to determine B12 deficiency are needed. These are methylmalonic acid (MMA) and Homocysteine (Hcy). B12 vitamin is needed for the pathway that metabolizes these chemicals in the body so one or both should be elevated in a B12 deficient individual. Although we also have to take into account that normal levels may not rule out B12 deficiency, since we develop reference intervals based on a “healthy” population of people. It is becoming increasingly apparent that our North American population is largely B12 deficient. Most of us just don’t have obvious symptoms.

It is my feeling that my symptoms are due to B12 deficiency. Knowing B12 is absorbed in the terminal ileum, it makes sense that Crohnies will have problems maintaining healthy levels of this vitamin. Add to this issue strictures and SIBO, and you have a recipe for dangerously low B12 levels.

I sign off here fellow IBDers! Keep your nerve fibers intact. Supplement B12 under the guidance of your physician!

Hello all you crazy Crohnies and other followers of my blog! Happy New Year! I have been plugging away at developing the blog site and managed to link my Facebook page! Proud Gypsy!

Last I left off it was NYE and I was getting ready for my friend coming for a visit from Canada. Of course, as I predicted in my Gypsy crystal ball: there would be some failures this week. I tried my best but I was naughty and cheated a few more times. (I figured what the hell? I already screwed it up over Christmas!) Pizza and rice found their way to my esophagus. So did A LOT of WINE! Woops! However, overall I stuck to the diet. Dry wine is allowed afterall! 😉 StrictureHeal went out the window unfortunately. And you know what? I have suffered for it! As Elaine Gottschall pointed out: the SCD must be fanatically adhered to for it to be effective. I won’t say it’s an “All or None” situation, but it’s damn near. If you think of the diet as an antibiotic treatment, we all know what happens when antibiotics aren’t used as prescribed: RESISTANCE! I hate the idea of harvesting a robust population of bad critters in my gut! Ultimately making it harder and harder to get a handle on it each time I have a failure.

I have been back on the SCD and StrictureHeal for two weeks now and I’m starting to feel well again. I experienced mild Herxheimer reaction (“die-off”) for a second time. This involved gas and diarrhea that burned. Once again, it happened at the one-week mark. I hope I have learned my lesson and my alter ego (who is a little bitch, by the way) will keep out of it next time temptation leads me astray. It is most definitely not worth the set-back for a few moments of pleasure.

I have been delving into some wonderful looking cookbooks, which I ordered through Amazon. I am going to list these books in the references section as I go along. As I try some new and adventurous recipes I will post about them. The first book I will mention is Recipes for the Specific Carbohydrate Diet, by Raman Prasad. The Forward and Introduction are marvelous and really instill confidence in the diet. The Forward is written by a pediatrician who has cured himself with this diet and has utmost confidence in it as a first-line treatment for Crohn’s disease. The Introduction provides a concise overview of Elaine Gottschall’s research, the science behind the SCD, and a beautiful chart featuring the legal and illegal foods. Although I have not yet tried any recipes from this book, I am very excited to start! I will let you know as soon as I do!

SCD Recipe Book

SCD LEGAL foods

Hello everyone! Very sorry for the delay in writing this post. With the holidays approaching things got really busy!

Before you read this post, I would like you to visit the Alternative Treatments section, and briefly review Stricture Heal Protocol. You might even want to check out Jini Patel Thompson’s website after that www.listentoyourgut.com.

I have some good news regarding my progress. Since my last post, which I believe ended with me complaining of gas bubbling around my stricture, I have improved significantly. In fact I want to share something really interesting. The night after I wrote the last post, I was feeling really bloated and scared that my blockage was getting worse. I laid a hot water bottle against my abdomen in bed and stretched my legs out while rolling from side to side. I heard the classic coffee-pot brewing “glug glug glug” sound (which all of you poor souls with strictures have come to know well) and then a sudden rushing of fluid through my stricture. My abdomen visibly flattened and my discomfort subsided. I believe this represented resolution of the partial obstruction I had been battling since being discharged from the hospital. To put this into perspective, this happened about one week into the diet and Stricture Heal Protocol. I felt amazing the next day.

My take on the first week on the diet and Stricture Heal is that I did suffer from a Herxheimer reaction (or “die-off”). But it did not last longer than one week. For those who are unfamiliar, this is a process of release of toxins and gases from dying bacteria, viruses, and fungi. The SCD effectively starves out these critters and the Stricture Heal Protocol includes several natural antimicrobial/antiviral/antifungal treatments, so they begin to die off at once. I believe combining the SCD and the Stricture Heal Protocol has been very effective for me.

After that rough first week eating only substances that would fit through a straw, I began to expand my diet. I started making omelettes with cheese and veggies, I started boiling baby carrots and other vegetables on the “low residue” list. I ate hard-boiled eggs for lunch with a little bit of cheese and a nice hearty bowl of home-made soup. Then I started having more and more fish for dinner and experimenting with sauces and spices to enhance the flavours. By the end of three weeks I got brave and made some asparagus. I cooked the hell out of it so it was basically falling apart. And I chewed the hell out of it before swallowing too. Side note: chewing is VERY important when you have a stricture! This all went down no problem and my bowel movements have continued to be perfect. I became increasingly more adventurous and made roasted vegetables that were deliberately overcooked. Red peppers, red onions, zucchini, yellow squash, tomatoes, big hunks of portabello mushrooms and lots of garlic cooked in a combo of coconut oil and olive oil (drizzled on the top). Again consciously chewing these veggies to a near-fluid state before swallowing. Successful.

Now for Christmas. OH DEAR. I flew into Toronto, Canada to see my family. Nice cold, white Christmas complete with ice storms and power outages! Hurray! Dorothy is back in Kansas! The first few days I stuck well to my diet (although Stricture Heal went out the window because I simply couldn’t cart all the items in my case)… My mom baked me blueberry muffins and little cookies with almond flour and bought a bunch of gluten-free snacks which I was forced to reject. Gluten-free stuff is NOT SCD-friendly for the most part! Read your labels people! Well then Christmas day came. I drank one too many wines and sunk my face into mashed potatoes, Yorkshire puddings, gravy, and dressing! EPIC FAIL! For the rest of the week I ate whatever I wanted within reason, but essentially went off the diet. I even ate a double chocolate doughnut from Tim Hortons for breakfast on Boxing Day! Naughty Gypsy! I wish I could tell you that this behaviour is acceptable on a periodic basis. But it is NOT. I knew that while I was doing it but I think the holiday spirit and the wine really affected my cerebral cortex and I didn’t seem to care. My intestines knew better. By the end of the week I was bloated and gurgling. Definitely not worth it for the few moments of pleasure eating naughty things.

I have hopped back on board the SCD and Stricture Heal train however, and I’m feeling good. I have vowed to stick to this diet to the very best of my abilities for at least one year but preferably two or more before really experimenting. I am still taking Entocort and Pentasa. I have not gone back for a second Remicade infusion and I have not resumed Imuran. Once I have been on the diet without cheating for 6 months I plan to start tapering my drugs. That is as long as my bowels are behaving themselves during that time.

Today is New Year’s Eve. I am pleased to be ringing in the new year with one of my childhood best friends from my hometown in Canada! Just as with travel, with company comes dietary challenges as you venture out to restaurants and try to entertain. I will follow up on my experiences next week. Wish me luck!

Happy New Year! May 2014 bring good health to your intestinal lining! xx