bandanamama's Blog

Well, I was diagnosed with celiac disease when I was 2 years old, and I am now 23. When I was younger, my parents always made sure I stayed on a gluten-free diet, but I found ways to sneak food, like cookies and cake. I was constantly losing weight and having horrible diarhea but my parents thought I was on a gluten free diet, so they couldn't figure it out. Well, when I was about 10 I went to a skating party with some of my friends. There was a sleepover afterwards, but I didn't make it to the sleepover. I binged all day on chocolate chip cookies, tuna sandwiches, and birthday cake. About half way through the skating party, I felt sick and went for the bathroom. I didn't make it there either. Everyone kept asking me what was wrong, but no one knew what celiac disease was then. Not in my small community anyway. I just kept telling them to call my mom. I knew exactly what was wrong. I had been told my whole life not to eat those foods. I was different, other. No one understood my disease, and it was difficult for a ten year old to try to explain. My mom came and took me home. She was surprisingly empathetic. I had expected a tongue lashing for my reckless behavior, but she just put me to bed. The next day, I felt horrible. At the time I didn't realize it, but it felt just like a hangover. My mom had no sympathy; I knew that what I had done was wrong, and she knew my "morning after" symptoms were a just punishment. You would think after that, I would have learned my lesson. Not me! But that's another entry in and of itself. More on my self-destruction at a later date.