5 absurd symptoms that confirm you have Coeliac disease

Posted: December 14, 2012 in Bizarre, Health, My two cents..., Science, What's in my head...
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Coeliac disease. It’s a bitch. It really is. If I wasn’t so busy right now eating gluten free mince pies and sipping my lactofree cup of tea, I’d be right over there to kick Coeliac disease’s ass. That’s right, you heard me CD!

If I was a superhero I’d have this emblazoned on my chest. Is that sad? Oh damn it…

Don’t get me wrong, there are worse things to have. A mild autoimmune disease where you can’t eat wheat, barley and rye is definitely not the worst thing in the world. But its one of those conditions that has one of the worst adverse effects – it’s so God damn annoying. You can’t take a pill and expect it to go away. Its wired into your system. Like whether you can roll your tongue or not. That shit’s in your genes. You can’t forget about it, because you inevitably need to eat a minimum of three times a day. And you can’t just be a bit naughty and indulge yourself for a little while… No, your intestines don’t allow for that.

So, I got thinking about all the crazy ass symptoms – medical and otherwise that make me so certain I have Coeliac disease. I’m not talking about a positive antigen test, I’m talking about the everyday things that I myself notice. Check it out, and see if you share anything similar or whether I’m just in fact crazy…

5) Nightmares about food. 

I’m not messing. I wish I was. I have had actual full on nightmares where I have casually eaten a piece of garlic bread. Afterwards the whole things turned into the final scene of Braveheart  with lots of screams of “Nooooooooo!”, manly tears and the odd bad Scottish accent. It ain’t pretty. The average person is having nightmares about zombies. I’m having traumatic recurring dreams about lasagne.

In the dream I have less hair than Mel Gibson. And bizarrely I don’t look as good in a kilt…

4) Dreams about food. 

Oh it cuts both ways my friend. When I’m not having doughy gremlin type REM sleep, I’m having fantasies about pork pies, pizza and pistachio covered Baklava. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up, dribble all over my pillow, sweat glistening my brow, my heart pounding in my chest… all because my boyfriend picked up the phone and ordered a Domino’s. Yes, when others have sex dreams… I have food dreams.

3) Nervous twitching when someone is  handing out food.

If you have Coeliac disease, you will be well aware of this one. It doesn’t matter where you are; a party, work, supermarket – when the nice lady is slowly coming your way, handing out ‘samples’ of food to people – the twitching starts. I don’t know what it is, but there is a level of panic inside that makes you go from death con five to one faster than you can say sausage roll. Why? Well I guess its a mixture of the fact that you see the woman slowly approaching like a wheat-riddled zombie army, and you have to decide how to act. Do I just say ‘No thanks.’? If I do will they be offended? Do I tell the truth? If I do that, people either fuss or look at me like I’m one of those crazy people who believe carrots have feelings. And then there is the scenario that is out of my control – the person realises my condition, and after holding the plate of sweet smelling goodness under my nose for fifteen seconds, realises and then utters – “Oh sorry, I forgot.” That bitch.

2) Imaginary celebratory high fives when you discover a new food.

I don’t like custard creams. I never really have. In fact, I hate custard so it’s no surprise. But that doesn’t stop me gorging down a whole packet of gluten free custard creams like they’re going out of fashion. It as though, I feel obliged because some company has gone to the effort of making this thing gluten free – solely for me – and so I must buy it. It isn’t enough that the friggin’ packet costs me three pounds. No, I must show my gratitude. I find myself eating things I never ate before just because they are gluten free. It’s absurd. I feel like a heroine addict, desperate to get my wheat-substitute methadone. So if its new, and its got the gluten free sign on it, I’m happy – and I’m eating it. Regardless of whether that said food is in fact kangaroo testicles.

1) Stalking.

Is it me? Or does John Hinckley look remarkably like a more conservative Elton John?

I don’t mean stalking in the John Hinckley sort  of sense of course. But there is something quite perverse that I find myself doing from time to time. I gravitate towards the wheat filled food like its a table of Jodie Foster memorabilia. I find myself staring at it, thinking – “Ohhh… bourbon’s. Nice.” And then I escalate. I find myself gravitating next to the person eating that said bourbon. Its like I’m insanely and pitifully living vicariously through anyone eating a God damn biscuit. Then the staring comes. More thoughts: “Ohhhh… I bet that bourbon tastes real good. Oh it’s been so long…!”  And then there’s a look… a disturbed uncomfortable jostling away from me as people realise I’m ogling them like they’re playboy bunnies and I’m Hugh Hefner. Needless to say – people either a) think I’m a lot weirder than I actually am or b) realise totally and utterly how weird I am.

Either way… I’m doomed.

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