September 19, 2011

Goodbye, Fruit. Hello, Emo.




I received some upsetting news this past Saturday morning. After years of wrestling with inconvenient and incredibly uncomfortable (this description really doesn't do it justice, but I feel weird calling it pain) bladder spasms, it looks like I have a condition known as interstitial cystitis. If you've heard of irritable bowel syndrome, this is the urinary tract equivalent.

On the one hand, this is a blessing. You typically only receive this diagnosis because the specialists can't find anything else wrong with you. To quote the doctor, "You're not going to be dropping dead of kidney failure any time soon."

Well, that's great; however, most urinary tract ailments are treatable either through surgery or drug use.

IC is not.


I'm being told that my only option is to drastically alter my diet. At first, this didn't sound problematic. "Great," I thought, "Cut out soda, sweets, super-salty stuff maybe . . . How bad could it be? I'll feel better and be healthier!" Guess what they actually want me to stop eating?

Fruit.

Turns out that everything that is good for the rest of your body is bad for your bladder.

All fruits except blueberries, pears, and melons (but no cantaloupe)
Tomatoes (technically fruit, I guess)
Onions
Soy
Eggs
Mayonaise
Yogurt
Sour cream
Chocolate (kill me)
Coffee
Tea
Flavored water (found this out the hard way)
Nuts
Salad dressing
Aged cheese (so all cheese?)
Deli and other cured meats
Beans
Anything pickled
Anything spicy
Anything yummy

Okay, I added that last one, but it sure feels like it.

I know it seems like I'm overreacting to this, but this news came at an already trying time in my life. I don't feel at liberty to divulge all of the details online, but I am quite overwhelmed and stressed out by all that is going on in my personal life.

And guess what? Stress causes more bladder spasms. Regardless of what I eat.

I am utterly depressed and a bordeline basket case. I'm afraid to eat anything and I haven't showered in far too long. I feel as though, at 19 years old, I am already being forced to give up my dreams of ever having a normal, happy life.

I look like this kid.


But with less cool hair.

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