This was supposed to be a post about a surprisingly fun and interesting college alumni event that I attended last Thursday.
It was also supposed to be posted last Friday, maybe Saturday, at the latest. Because it really was a fun and interesting event, complete withon a cool seminar delivered by a lively speaker in a spiffy venue with bitching food and bev, which, frankly, I think is some weird, Cornellian point of pride because of that hotel school they’ve got.
However, as long-time readers of communicatrix-dot-com well know, I have Crohn’s disease, which basically means:
- My colon is a tyrant
- Like most tyrants, is willful, capricious and wildly oversensitive
- My colon likes to exercise its supreme power over me at the most inconvenient of times
- In the war between posting and colon repair, [my colon always wins.]*
As much as I seem to rattle on about personal stuff here, I really keep the bulk (ha, ha, I said “bulk”) of my personal shit (ha, ha, I said…oh, never mind…) private. Because really, how sexy is it to go into the gory details of your life when you’re in the 45th year of it? You catch my drift.
Anyway. Major fires have been put out. Pesky low-grade existential crisis lingers, but all hands are back on deck, er, in L.A., safe and sound, which has done wonders for my peace of mind, which, in turn, has done wonders for my lower intestine.
But I would be remiss if I did not take this opportunity to, one more time, plug the wonders of the Specific Carbohydrate Diet, which continues to be the single greatest thing I’ve ever done for my intestinal health, and possibly my health in general.
It’s not an easy diet to follow (quick: give up sugar, starch, and all even minimally-processed food!). I’d strayed from it over the last year because, ironically enough, I’d been feeling so good. But as anyone with Crohn’s or UC (or celiac disease, or IBS, or other pesky intestinal illness) will tell you, stress is a huge trigger for flare-ups. And for me, flare-ups are only stopped with the double-edged sword that is prednisone, king-daddy of the steroids.
Thankfully, five days back on the diet with fanatical adherence and things are looking up. I have a goodly portion of my energy back, and no longer feel like I might have to drop to whatever horizontal surface I’m on to nap. (At one low point over the last few days, I actually curled up in a ball on a closet floor for 15 minutes, rock on, party girl!)
Which is good, because right now, I’ve got to drive a motor vehicle downtown and beg the cold-hearted DMV employees to overlook a mailing deadline I missed while I was passing out on closet floors.
So, posts on goal-free living and other fun and exciting stuff soon. Meanwhile, if you see a middle-aged woman passed out on the floor of the Metropolitan Courthouse, for god’s sake, don’t give her a candy bar thinking it’ll help…
*Left bracketed part out in the original post. See? My colon really does rule.