Re-enemated

I disappeared for a while.

I disappeared into darkness, anger, and pain.

My second Crohn's flare started simmering in late February. The difference between everyday symptoms and a flare is obvious for me: blood. Losing blood is not an everyday symptom.

What caused this flare? I discourage that question, because the factors at play in this disease are many, tangled, highly individual, and poorly understood. But that said, maybe the inflammation was kicked off when I tried to eat a couple (literally, a couple) well-cooked vegetables that I hadn't eaten in a while. Can you blame me? Regardless, I had no idea after a year of relative health that my condition was so very tenuous. That's scary, that my health can plummet so immediately.

I firmly believe everyone with Crohn's should have this towel next to their toilet.
(Ten points to you if you get the reference.)

March kicked off what would become a grueling months-long trial full of attempts to cage my poor deranged immune system. Gastroenterologists, blood tests, stool tests, steroids, more of this medication, less of that medication, complication after complication. Nightly steroid enemas, anal fissure ointment, a colonoscopy to boot.

The steroids that were my savior during my first flare didn't work this time. I was on a high dose for far longer this year, long enough to suffer not only from the cosmetic side effects (unfortunate hair growth, raging acne, weight gain, hello) but also from the mental side effects: confusion, anxiety, depression, outrageous mood swings. And when my knees swelled up without warning one Monday, I felt like giving up completely. (No one wants to hear, when they see you on crutches, that it's a medication side effect. They'd rather hear that you slipped on a banana peel while vacuuming. Alas.)

Crutches: more exercise than one would think.

Exhaustion: deep, consuming, just-climbed-a-mountain exhaustion. Agony: Alien-attempting-to-burst-through-my-abdomen agony. Fear: blinding, fiery, imminent-destruction fear. And guilt, when the best option was to ramp up to the next "tier" of medication, one that involves me injecting myself with two needles every month.

It's a big, scary syringe with a cute name.

Despite all this, I was mostly okay for the first five or six weeks of this flare. I'd been through one before and knew I could survive it, that life would get better eventually. But I couldn't maintain my positive outlook. I got overwhelmed. Hope is crucial for making it through the darkness; the pain hid hope behind a locked door and I saw it happening but didn't stop it. I started snapping at the people who asked me how I was doing, sobbing the moment I was alone. There were moments of lightness, like when I spent a few hours brainstorming hilarious enema puns ("Sleeping with the Enema," anyone?). For the most part, though, three months of my life disappeared into a void.

Enema, dressed in white! Doesn't it look like one of those bottles used to feed baby farm animals? No?

I'm about back to how I felt pre-flare, which is still not great, but it's glorious not to be in pain all the time and to be off the worst of the steroids. The injectable medication seems to be having some effect. I wish I had some deeper insight to give upon looking back at this year so far, but I'm still in a bit of daze. However, there are a few small realizations (pieces of advice for someone going through a similar situation?) I can offer:

1. You are loved. People want to help you. Let them help. Appreciate them.
2. Try to find those little bright spots to sustain you until you can see the light again.
3. Reevaluate how you will spend the healthy days.

I'm so grateful to everyone who offered me a kind word or a loving embrace. There are a few voices and warm hands that I can credit for carrying me and helping me break down the door behind which hope lay in wait. There really is so much beauty in the world. I don't want to forget that again.

Vocalizing IBD

So I'm in the midst of my second real Crohn's flare. And I insist on talking about it. Not because I like complaining; to the contrary, my instinct is usually to huddle in a corner or crawl under a blanket and hope no one approaches. But after the shock and emotional upheaval of my first flare at the end of 2012, I decided to be as vocal as possible about this disease. There are three reasons for this:

1. A chronic illness is not something any person should have to endure in stoic silence. Often, those with a chronic illness (especially an "invisible" one) feel a responsibility to avoid burdening the people close to them. But that's just absurd. Being able to confide in people, utilize what assistance they offer, and take comfort from their closeness is, in some cases, the only medicine that can help.

2. The inflammatory bowel diseases are uniquely troublesome because of the very taboo nature of many of the symptoms. No one wants to hear about them. No one wants to talk about them. It can cause a profound, deep-rooted type of shame to lose control over your bodily functions.

Nothing says "close" like Twister.
Of course, this was back when I wasn't in too much pain to Twist.

If others don't understand just how much and in how many ways the life of someone with IBD is impacted, they can unwittingly amplify that shame. "Why can't you go out to eat with us? Shouldn't you be taking care of yourself better by [insert simplistic holistic/nutritional remedy here]? Are you just being dramatic when you double over in pain in the middle of the street, when you're moaning and crying in that bathroom stall? How can you do your work if you always have to run out of meetings halfway through? Can't you control that gas? Do you really have to pull over on the side of the road again?" If you're someone trying to deal with IBD, the very last thing you need is to feel ashamed and guilty about the symptoms. You need understanding and compassion.

I have a robust medicine cabinet. Hoping hard that something will kick in soon.

3. I want people to pay attention to their own bodies. An astounding number of people with IBD are misdiagnosed for many years or are only given any diagnosis once they land in the hospital for emergency surgery. But if more people are a) aware of the symptoms and b) not too ashamed to talk about them and seek help, more people can have a hope of getting earlier treatment and postponing some of the worst complications of these diseases.

And yet, in this post, I've been rather vague. So I'll get graphic here in the interest of IBD awareness.

You might experience:

• Stomach cramping, especially during or just after meals and during bowel movements, ranging from barely perceptible to agonizing
• Localized chronic pain at the rectum, anus, or specific parts of the abdomen
• Increased bowel movement frequency and changes in stool consistency and color
• Prolonged bouts of diarrhea
• Mucus in stool
• Bloody bowel movements, ranging from dots on toilet paper and streaks in the stool to crimson toilet water
• Nausea
• Gas and bloating
• Weight loss
• Loss of appetite
• Fatigue
• Joint pain
• Eye problems
• Changes in mood and personality

And a host of complications I won't go into. So please, be caring and kind. And please pay attention to your own digestive health.

Easy Baker: Better Oatmeal Bars

January 2024 update: 

Please note that many posts in this blog are a record of a person with multiple eating disorders who sought questionable care, was excited about dangerous lifestyle choices, and believed in achieving absolute health through eating (which is something that cannot be done and is often more detrimental to one's overall health).

I do not recommend following any posted advice or using the person I was in these posts as an example for anything related to food. If you're experiencing issues related to food and feel yourself in the grip of diet culture, I suggest seeking care from a counselor who focuses on eating disorders and, in the meantime, gently challenging preconceived notions of health and wellness through your media choices. A favorite of mine and a pillar of my treatment these days is the podcast Maintenance Phase.
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Original post:

All right. Here I am, baker extraordinaire, for an encore of my single crowning achievement, the easy homemade oatmeal protein bars. To be honest, this revised recipe is much tastier than the original (and it's rather simpler to boot).

These bars are quick and nutritious and oh-so-gentle for most digestive tracts. They're the ideal flare food for me (Crohn's flare, that is...more on that in a later post) and acceptable for a whole host of dietary restrictions that you might happen to be saddled with. Furthermore, they're cheaper and less processed than many bars you'd find in the store, and they're perfect for breakfast, snacks, energy boosts between or after workouts, even dessert. They're a bit like cookies.

Seven keys to snack happiness.

Ingredients (makes 6 servings):

• 1-1/2 cups rolled oats
• 3 ripe bananas
• 2 Tbsp. vegan protein powder (any kind of protein powder here)
• 4 Tbsp. almond butter (allergic to nuts? Try an extra banana)
• 1 Tbsp. cacao powder (I'd say "optional," but...chocolate!)
• 2 Tbsp. non-dairy chocolate chips (also technically optional)
• 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
• (optional) nuts, seeds, dried fruit

Mmm, gooey.

1. Use a masher or sturdy spoon to mash the bananas. 
2. Mix in the almond butter.
3. Pour the powders into the bowl and mix gently.
4. Mix in the rolled oats and chocolate chips (and any other additions). Depending on the size of the bananas, you may need more oats than the recipe specifies. There should be no uncoated oats, but the mixture need not be too dense; it can be a little bit gooey.
5. Line a glass baking dish with parchment paper, then pour the ingredient mixture in an even layer onto the paper. The thicker the layer, the longer the baking time.
6. Bake at 375 degrees for about 50-70 minutes. Why the wide range? I swear it takes a different amount of time each batch. The key is that the edges should be a deep brown and the middle should be golden brown and pliable but neither mushy nor crisp. This is the "trial and error" part of baking.
7. Cut into as many bars as you want. My rule of thumb is that each banana used yields two bars.

Individually portioned for convenience. Like Lunchables. Except not horrible.

Cut into six sections, my recipe yields bars that are about 230 calories with 8 grams of protein. (Not bodybuilder food by any means, but one of the gentlest sources of protein I've tried. You can tremendously up the protein by adding nuts or seeds or using a higher-protein powder.) I individually wrap each portion, and they're ready to go!

Be advised: they last about half a week before getting too stale. Also, the flavor is pretty mild. In my humble, unbiased opinion, this is (still) a great recipe to alter per your own whims to stay energized and healthy on a budget.