Faithful, even occasional readers of this blog know that I was required to follow strict food guidelines in the three months following my transplant. Except for a few relatively minor lapses (I confess to three fresh bagels), I did my best to adhere to the letter of the law. I'm sure I committed unintentional blunders, but fortunately I suffered no consequences.
Last week I was told I could "liberalize" my diet. I'm afraid I went overboard. I added heretofore forbidden foods at a rate and quantity that likely compares to the amount of alcohol consumed by the average freshman college student on that first weekend away from home. Goodbye processed food, hello pizza, Thai take-out, salad, apples, more salad, bakery-fresh bread, birthday cake, leftover Thai-take-out--you get the idea. The problem was, I was sure that I would pay some price for binging on deliciousness. Even the tiniest digestive signs fed my anxiety. The deadliest strains of e. coli and salmonella bacteria infected my thinking, if not my gut. I worried I would not know which food had poisoned me. Unlike the recommended method of introducing new foods to a baby's delicate system (that is, one food at a time), I re-introduced many foods all at once. The food fest was therefore tempered with the sobering thought that I might need to have my stomach pumped.
Today I can say I have no regrets: I loved eating all that yummy stuff. That's easy to say since I survived the orgy with only minor indigestion that wasn't even Rolaid-worthy. I love good food, and can't wait until I can have a medium rare steak washed down with a sturdy red. But wait I must, probably at least another nine months.
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