What’s That Smell?

This last week has been rather interesting. Putting my body through the trauma of detoxing from gluten has opened up my…eyes…to some strange things.

There are some things I’ve expected, of course. Trying to keep track of dishes and food in the kitchen has been trying. The kids are still learning about kitchen responsibilities, and then you throw separate–everything–into the mix, it cause quite a bit of confusion. Plus, they don’t like kitchen duty, so they do as little as they can get away with and still call it good. Yup, I remember trying that with my mom. It didn’t work out that well for me.

Other things are also expected, like rumbles and whatnot in my tummy. What I didn’t expect was the farting. Ok, I’ve farted before. Who hasn’t? But seriously, these were major farts!


When I was growing up, my mom disliked the word “fart.” She thought it was vulgar and didn’t want me to say it, so I came up with a different word that passed her approval…bottomburp. I mean, it makes sense, right? It’s a loud noise, similar to a burp, that comes out of your bottom. And we still use it today amongst my family. But let me tell you, what I was doing this last week were not simply bottomburps.

First, there was the noise. It was loud and obnoxious. I mean, there was no way it was not going to make any noise. I even surprised my husband a couple of times, and he (due to a different kind of tummy issue) is the king of farts in our house. I’m not sure he quite knew what to think about it. And the smell! Oh, my word! My body has never made that odor before! I don’t even know how to describe it. I might have burned my nose hairs.


It’s funny. It really is. My husband and I have laughed so hard over this. And I tell you what, that was good for me. It kind of brought me out of my funk a little bit. I do hope, though, that it doesn’t happen while I’m at work.



My Nonfiction World

I don’t like to read nonfiction books. My reasoning is that I live in a nonfiction world, I don’t really need to read about it. Sure, it may be flawed reasoning, but it’s mine. That being said, my future reading list has been expanded to a few nonfiction books due to recent events in my life. Oh, joy.

I know practically nothing about rheumatoid arthritis. I don’t know how to live with an autoimmune disease, really, in spite of the fact that I have family members and friends who have autoimmune diseases. But I am my mother’s daughter and I like to find out as much as I can about something that affects my life, so as soon as I was diagnosed, I hit up Amazon.

The first book I came across was The Autoimmune Wellness Handbook. I’ve only barely started reading it, but what I appreciate about it is that 1) it’s written by two women who not only have the professional credentials to know what they are talking about, but also deal with autoimmune diseases themselves, and 2) it’s written so that I can understand it. I will let you know how it is, though I can tell you that one friend I have has personally recommended it to me when she saw it on my table.

The Autoimmune Wellness Handbook: A DIY Guide to Living Well with Chronic Illness by Mickey Trescott, NTP & Angie Alt, NTC, CHC (link at bottom of post)

The next two books are about celiac, my other diagnosis. One of them, Celiac Disease: A Hidden Epidemic, is basically a guide to help you go through the steps to get the right diagnosis and to explain what it all means in depth. The other book, Celiac Disease and Living Gluten-Free: An Essential Guide for the Newly Diagnosed, is exactly what the title says. I have yet to crack open either of these books, but again, I’ll let you know.

Celiac Disease and Living Gluten-Free: An Essential Guide for the Newly Diagnosed by Jules E. Dowler Shepard, and Celiac Disease: A Hidden Epidemic by Peter H.R. Green, MD & Rory Jones, MS (links at the end of the post)

This next one was actually recommended to me by my mother, who also has an autoimmune disease as well as colitis. Recently, my doctor told me she wanted me to change my diet to not only gluten-free, but a bit more restrictive in order to lose weight. Mom recommended this book, Eat Fat, Lose Fat, as a resource on good fats that will not only help me lose weight, but also help manage my symptoms. It just came today, so I haven’t had a chance to even look at it yet.

Eat Fat, Lose Fat by Dr. Mary Enig & Sally Fallon (link at bottom of post)

So there’s my reading list for the next few weeks. And they’re all nonfiction books. Even worse, they fall into the “self-help” category. But I don’t intend to be ignorant about what my body is doing to me, so here goes…



(Disclaimer: I have not been approached by any of these authors to advertise or endorse their books, this is strictly of my own doing)


Yesterday I went to see Dr. S again for a follow up and referrals. We talked about a few things, like how she wants me to restrict my diet even more to just lean meats, fruits, and vegetables, and if I have any grain (like brown rice, etc.) it needs to be whole and not processed in any way. So there goes even gluten-free bread, pasta, and all that. The purpose is because she wants me to lose weight (which I need to do regardless of any diagnoses) because it will be easier on my joints, and this diet will help. I’m actually pleased about what she told me I could eat because several years ago, when I lost about 40 pounds, this is the diet I was on. And now I have a doctor confirming it…lol. It’s the little things.

During our conversation weight, however, I did mention that I had always thought that was why my joints were always hurting — because I was carrying around all this weight.

She looked at me and asked, “So you’ve been in pain all this time and no one did anything about it?”

“No. I thought it was just because of my weight, so I didn’t think to say anything. It was just kind of in the background.”

“How long have you been in pain?”

“I first noticed my knees hurting about…” I had to think about it, “…11 or 12 years ago, maybe?”

She just shook her head. I don’t know if it was because she was amazed that I’ve lived with it for so long, or because I’ve been too stupid to say anything about it. Maybe a combination of both. But I did walk away with something from that conversation, and it may seem weird that this is what I got out of it:

It’s okay for me to allow myself to feel the pain. It’s okay for me to complain about it. In fact, I need to complain about it, because if I don’t then I’ll be miserable suffering it in silence. And it won’t get taken care of.

That was kind of freeing. Now granted, I have to be balanced about my complaints. I do have a husband who will probably get tired of hearing me, but I know he loves me enough to understand that this is our lives now. And I will be meeting with a rheumatologist to talk about pain management. But to be honest, it still doesn’t make this any less difficult.