Day 5 - Twenty-five Reasons To Change the Way You Think About Food

I took this picture yesterday, at an office building where I had to be for work.  The last time I was here was about two years ago, and I remember very well the feeling in my gut upon encountering those steps.  It was that feeling that stopped me in my tracks yesterday and made me want to count them, snap the picture, and share with you - 25 steps.

25 very good reasons why I'm glad I changed the way I think about food...

Ever since I began feeling well, after my three year battle with autoimmune symptoms, I have discovered a new hobby - counting steps!

It started one day with a visit to my favorite surgeon's office.  

This man has never performed any sugery on me; the reason he is my favorite surgeon is because he respectfully left it up to me to decide whether or not I should have my gallbladder removed a few years ago, when I was having regular attacks.  At that time, I asked what exactly was wrong with my gallbladder - I don't have any problems with having a dangerously infected organ removed, but I also really would rather keep it if I can. I figure, if the Good Lord put it there, there must be a reason for it.  No doctor was actually able to tell me what was causing the attacks; stones had been ruled out, and I was informed that a HIDA scan could tell at what level the gallbladder was functioning but still would not be able to tell me why.  I politely informed Mr. Surgeon that if he couldn't tell me what the problem was, then I was going to give him a hard time about taking it out.  He said that was fine with him... and I've liked him ever since.  (I later learned about the connection between gallbladder troubles and the liver and got myself a good liver cleansing supplement, with milk thistle and dandelion and all the right things. As long as I'm careful about what I eat, my gallbladder and I get along just fine now.)

On this particular day - the day I started counting steps - I was being counseled about a small nerve biopsy of the mouth; this had been ordered by one doctor or another, it's all a blur in my mind now.  But some time between the scheduling and the actual appointment, I had taken the step to change my diet, and things had started looking up...

Way up...

Upstairs, if that's where your surgeon's office happened to be.  

I bypassed the elevator and took the stairs that morning, without even thinking about it. Mr. Surgeon and I had a nice little discussion about food and health, and we decided that I could hold off on the mouth biopsy for now, as long as things were going okay.  (I really like this guy.)  

I came out of that doctor's office that day feeling like a winner.  I had beaten the pain and maybe educated somebody a little on how it could be done.  Life was good.  I walked quickly down those steps, and then... I stopped.  Turned around.  And looked back up at what I had just done. At that moment, I'm pretty sure every set of steps I had encountered anywhere over the past three years flashed before my eyes.

It always went something like this:  I'm standing at the top of the steps, feeling like I'm about to enter the lion's den.  I wait a few seconds, take a deep breath, put my hand on the rail, and take just one step at a time.  Every muscle and bone in my body hurts, my feet are burning with pain, my hips and thighs feel bruised, my joints are stiff and don't want to move, and my mind is overwhelmed with despair.  

Walking up steps, for some reason, didn't seem quite as bad, and it got to the point where even stepping off a curb onto the street was a dreaded thought.

But on this day - this glorious day, at the surgeon's office - I looked back at those steps, and I thought, I have to see how many! 

I fairly ran all the way back up; and then starting from the top, I counted 42 steps to the bottom. My first thought was that I had done it, but my immediate next thought was that I had done it twice!

And that is how I started counting steps.

The funny thing is, I still had pain in my feet for a year after that, but it hardly affected my life.  A later small nerve biopsy showed nerve damage in both feet, so I figured that pain would always be there.  And, then one day, it wasn't.  

I see that as a constant reminder that things don't change overnight, and that good health does not mean fighting one battle, but making real changes for life.