So, my mom is dying.
I don't mean to be blunt. It is my nature, but I suppose some of you will find it offensive, even cold. I guess it's just the way I deal with what's happening. In general, I don't do sentiment very well, nor very often. It takes too long, makes a bad thing worse to me, and puffs my eyes until I'm unrecognizable. No, thank you.
Anyway, my mother has been dying for a while now. And yes, I realize that we're all dying; out of 1,000 people here on Earth, 1,000 of them will die. The odds are sort of stacked against us.
But my mom is dying in a slow, observable way. And it's been pretty damned difficult to watch.
Dementia is bad enough. Dementia combined with ill health is worse. Dementia plus general poor health plus the ticking time bomb of cancer? That, my friends, is the trifecta no one wants to hit. It happens, daily, probably to more folks around you than you realize. Once you become one those folks, then you begin to grasp how common this type of situation is. But you wish you didn't know, and you wouldn't wish it on anyone else.
As her memory faded, she began to fail physically as well. We all noticed, pushed the memory meds (which I suspect do nothing), and saw the general deterioration become a bit pronounced. And then a bit more. A urinary tract infection caused the first landslide, and we all saw the woman we know retreat into herself and become, temporarily, an unhappy and uncooperative person who wanted only her husband and to be left alone. A short stay in a rehab facility to help her regain strength was a necessary but difficult period of time; she was not a model patient. Finally, the infection cleared and she returned to us, somewhat less muddled but permanently affected.
That was 2 1/2 years ago. Since then, there have been more infections, falls, scans, biopsies, the deadly diagnosis of the "C" word, and a continuing decline. Help has been enlisted, then compounded. Some friends and family have been amazingly, touchingly supportive. Seeing this good in people, and spending time around the biggest helpers, have been humbling moments for me; I am a better person simply for proximity to these kind-hearted blessings in human form.
But the kindnesses and offerings and visits have not stopped the progression of the decline. Only God can do that, and I have to believe He has His reasons for permitting this. My heart has been softened considerably; never again will I be able to see a family dealing with a health crisis and not remember these days. I will certainly be slower to judge anyone facing terminal health problems; I will try to never take for granted my basic faculties and abilities. These are good ends, because I should never judge, and I should always be thankful. I wish there were easier means to acquire such wisdom.
She was never my best friend—we didn't have that kind of relationship. I was the third of three girls; I imagine that both of my parents were weary by then from the drama of all those female hormones. I didn't tell her my secrets, or give her every detail of my crushes at the high school dance. In the end, though, none of that matters. She is my mother, who protected me and bathed me and sat through my band concerts and made me do chores and helped me pick out clothes (until I was a teenager, at least). Her blood runs in my veins. I am here because of her, and thanks to her.
It feels now as if we are caring for a shell of the person we knew. Is she still in there somewhere? Does she remember bits and pieces, or is it mostly just gone? Sometimes she remembers me, but mostly she just knows that I am familiar. That's what she craves: the familiar. She is moving away from me, from us. I know we must be nearing the end because she has ceased to brag about her childhood singing voice; it has been months since she's told me that she was the smartest in her family, in her class even. Now she has begun to turn down sweets. My mother! Refusing a cookie! Not finishing a piece of cake. She used to declare how she loved to read—and she did, much more than housework!—and even though she hasn't read anything since this long, ugly journey began, it pains me that she doesn't even mention it anymore.
The person we knew is already gone, really. It's as if I'm watching a cheesy episode of Star Trek, where the crew members step onto those round platforms and disappear a little at a time (cue the shimmery, space-age sound effect). That is what's happening to my mom. She is getting more and more faint, even as I physically help her rise from her chair, even as we have to stand closer to each other than ever before so I can assist her with delicate matters in a way that the woman I used to know would never have permitted... Even then, she continues to vanish. She is disappearing right before my eyes.
I pray for her quick departure, that it is easy and light. Recently after waking, she announced to one of the wonderful ladies who help care for her, "Jesus loves me." Yes, He does. I trust He is preparing the arrival party.
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Thursday, May 5, 2016
Friday, February 20, 2015
Close calls, awful weather, and relativity
Most women have had a scare of some sort. My most recent fright came in a phone call yesterday, as I drove from errand to errand. I'd had a recent mammogram, (or as my friend calls it, the "#!* sandwich"—I'll let you fill in the blank with your choice of fitting words). I'd made it through; I'd been pinched and squeezed, told not to breathe, and oh so happily had been released into normalcy with the all-clear diagnosis.
And then. That phone call. My doctor had compared the current image with the last one from a few years ago... There was something new. Maybe harmless, maybe not. It required a closer look. My heart was pounding, blood rushed through my veins too fast, and all the while my son sat in the back seat of the Honda, listening, his presence forcing me to keep calm and control my voice. I would need to call the appointment maker back when I had my calendar handy, I said.
We arrived early at our last stop of the day, my son's orthodontist. Thankfully, they were able to fit him in quickly; while he met with the doc, I made the dreaded call back to the imaging office. Should I be worried? I asked. The woman attempted to talk me off a ledge while still not committing to any real answer... It was a tad discouraging, even though I could see her point of view. She simply wasn't able to promise me that all was well. That wouldn't have been realistic. We set up an appointment for the very next day. I don't know about you, but once I have a possible disaster looming over my head, I want the damned hammer to fall already—no point delaying impact. That's just how I roll.
We left the orthodontist's office; my son, who'd overheard the end of my appointment set-up call, began to lament about our family and its many medical needs. I immediately tried to set him straight. Whoa, I said, We do all right. What if one of us had cystic fibrosis, or asthma? What if breathing treatments were part of daily life? Or what if one of us were paralyzed, or an amputee? What if we had life-threatening allergies to something? Don't you think that might require a whole lot more medical care and doc visits? Well, yes, concurred the boy. We were pulling into the driveway by then, and the conversation ended.
The requisite "closer look" on the following morning turned out to be nothing. I am able to breathe again, while feeling new empathy toward the folks I know who received a different answer and piece of paper than the one I was given. Everything can change in a heartbeat. We get spoiled, living with and within normal; it's so much more pleasant to be oblivious to what might be lurking or what could have been. And by "we," I really mean "I."
Now, knowing that things are all right in there for today at least, I feel lighter than I did earlier this week. And that's a good thing, to feel lighter, because this horrid cold and snow has absolutely robbed me of all my natural vigor and buoyancy. We have been trapped inside, often at home, trying to be patient with nature, with each other, while we await a break. Spring, or temperatures above 10 degrees Fahrenheit, whichever comes first. Both would be met with great rejoicing at this point.
I guess getting a clean report at the imaging office is sort of like comparing our winter situation to Boston. Hey, look what we avoided, this time at least. Let's be thankful for what we have. Not the most upbeat perspective, I know—but sometimes I need a rather dramatic comparison in order to be able to view my situation honestly. I need to see my trial relative to what others are facing—and since I am a human, and therefore self-centered, my eyes work best when my personal comfort is threatened or removed. Again, for better or worse, that's how I roll.
All right, I'm finished waxing optimistic now. Remind me of all this after the next snowstorm, would you?
And then. That phone call. My doctor had compared the current image with the last one from a few years ago... There was something new. Maybe harmless, maybe not. It required a closer look. My heart was pounding, blood rushed through my veins too fast, and all the while my son sat in the back seat of the Honda, listening, his presence forcing me to keep calm and control my voice. I would need to call the appointment maker back when I had my calendar handy, I said.
We arrived early at our last stop of the day, my son's orthodontist. Thankfully, they were able to fit him in quickly; while he met with the doc, I made the dreaded call back to the imaging office. Should I be worried? I asked. The woman attempted to talk me off a ledge while still not committing to any real answer... It was a tad discouraging, even though I could see her point of view. She simply wasn't able to promise me that all was well. That wouldn't have been realistic. We set up an appointment for the very next day. I don't know about you, but once I have a possible disaster looming over my head, I want the damned hammer to fall already—no point delaying impact. That's just how I roll.
We left the orthodontist's office; my son, who'd overheard the end of my appointment set-up call, began to lament about our family and its many medical needs. I immediately tried to set him straight. Whoa, I said, We do all right. What if one of us had cystic fibrosis, or asthma? What if breathing treatments were part of daily life? Or what if one of us were paralyzed, or an amputee? What if we had life-threatening allergies to something? Don't you think that might require a whole lot more medical care and doc visits? Well, yes, concurred the boy. We were pulling into the driveway by then, and the conversation ended.
The requisite "closer look" on the following morning turned out to be nothing. I am able to breathe again, while feeling new empathy toward the folks I know who received a different answer and piece of paper than the one I was given. Everything can change in a heartbeat. We get spoiled, living with and within normal; it's so much more pleasant to be oblivious to what might be lurking or what could have been. And by "we," I really mean "I."
Now, knowing that things are all right in there for today at least, I feel lighter than I did earlier this week. And that's a good thing, to feel lighter, because this horrid cold and snow has absolutely robbed me of all my natural vigor and buoyancy. We have been trapped inside, often at home, trying to be patient with nature, with each other, while we await a break. Spring, or temperatures above 10 degrees Fahrenheit, whichever comes first. Both would be met with great rejoicing at this point.
I guess getting a clean report at the imaging office is sort of like comparing our winter situation to Boston. Hey, look what we avoided, this time at least. Let's be thankful for what we have. Not the most upbeat perspective, I know—but sometimes I need a rather dramatic comparison in order to be able to view my situation honestly. I need to see my trial relative to what others are facing—and since I am a human, and therefore self-centered, my eyes work best when my personal comfort is threatened or removed. Again, for better or worse, that's how I roll.
All right, I'm finished waxing optimistic now. Remind me of all this after the next snowstorm, would you?
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Yellow car syndrome
Someone came up with this funny phrase to describe a sudden hyper-awareness of something that you really hadn't much noticed before. For example, you buy a yellow car—and then, over and over, you are amazed at how many other people drive yellow vehicles, too. (We here in our home call it the "super-old Chevy Cavalier station wagon" syndrome... Or, we would call it that if we ever saw any other old Chevy wagons...)
I'm experiencing the yellow car syndrome myself these days; in the past few months, I've become extremely sensitive to the aging, frail population around me. I had already known that Pittsburgh was way up there on the list of cities with unusually high numbers of oldsters; I remember fretting about it in my single days. Yet suddenly, everywhere I look, I am visually accosted by the elderly, many of them struggling to complete simple daily tasks.
Now, I realize that this is partly because I have free time during weekday mornings in which to run errands, do shopping, and complete other household tasks. Of course I'm going to see more retired and infirm people then. (Weekends, on the other hand, are the time when you are inundated with babies and toddlers being dragged from place to place.) But my awareness isn't just age-related—it goes deeper. I am noticing crippled and gnarled fingers, bent-over spines, and people with walkers and canes. I even find myself counting the walkers, noting without trying just how many people around me require walking assistance. I am frequently arrested by just how many of the handicapped spaces are taken—sometimes all of them. Without trying, I notice a delicate white-haired lady at the grocery, trying desperately, with swollen, bent fingers, to open the clear plastic bag in which to put her produce. (Yes, I helped her.) It seems that everywhere, overnight, people have begun moving slowly, painstakingly, with difficulty.
And it's not just the older folks. I am suddenly, by way of association, aware of young people with physical limitations,too. We know a few people who have ongoing physical conditions, and now I find myself making note of similar symptoms and movements that would indicate that same or a related condition. I recognize the expression of pain on someone's face, the stiffness of joints that necessitates careful, gradual movements.
I'm sure my heightened sensitivity is related to my mother's failing health. I'm equally certain that my own advancing age, well into middle years at this point, might also be bringing home the point that these bodies of ours aren't meant to last forever. They are weak, and breakable. They can mend themselves in our youth and well beyond. But then? Those so-called golden years? Nature demands that we begin to deteriorate.
The most heartbreaking scene for me lately was a perky older woman pushing a younger lady in a wheelchair through Michaels craft store. There I was, inwardly kvetching about the traffic, and how I wasn't getting everything done that I'd hope to do, and how the sun wasn't out, grouch, groan. At that moment, the woman rolled her wheelchair-bound companion slowly past me, talking gently as she went. She reached for something on the shelf for her friend, placed it in her lap, and the recipient offered a barely audible, hardly decipherable word of thanks. I noticed how lovingly the elder woman responded, the kindness in her voice, the unhurried way she helped the other. I felt very small, and spoiled, and shallow.
It is good to be aware of this sort of thing. Good, because I can act when I see a need. Good, because I will appreciate my health, my body that still mostly does what I ask it to do. Good, because God has opened my eyes. I pray I will remember to be His hands to this growing number of opportunities. I hope I will remember to be thankful, and to act with gladness and obedience. Any of the folks I've been noticing could be, likely will be, me.
I'm experiencing the yellow car syndrome myself these days; in the past few months, I've become extremely sensitive to the aging, frail population around me. I had already known that Pittsburgh was way up there on the list of cities with unusually high numbers of oldsters; I remember fretting about it in my single days. Yet suddenly, everywhere I look, I am visually accosted by the elderly, many of them struggling to complete simple daily tasks.
Now, I realize that this is partly because I have free time during weekday mornings in which to run errands, do shopping, and complete other household tasks. Of course I'm going to see more retired and infirm people then. (Weekends, on the other hand, are the time when you are inundated with babies and toddlers being dragged from place to place.) But my awareness isn't just age-related—it goes deeper. I am noticing crippled and gnarled fingers, bent-over spines, and people with walkers and canes. I even find myself counting the walkers, noting without trying just how many people around me require walking assistance. I am frequently arrested by just how many of the handicapped spaces are taken—sometimes all of them. Without trying, I notice a delicate white-haired lady at the grocery, trying desperately, with swollen, bent fingers, to open the clear plastic bag in which to put her produce. (Yes, I helped her.) It seems that everywhere, overnight, people have begun moving slowly, painstakingly, with difficulty.
And it's not just the older folks. I am suddenly, by way of association, aware of young people with physical limitations,too. We know a few people who have ongoing physical conditions, and now I find myself making note of similar symptoms and movements that would indicate that same or a related condition. I recognize the expression of pain on someone's face, the stiffness of joints that necessitates careful, gradual movements.
I'm sure my heightened sensitivity is related to my mother's failing health. I'm equally certain that my own advancing age, well into middle years at this point, might also be bringing home the point that these bodies of ours aren't meant to last forever. They are weak, and breakable. They can mend themselves in our youth and well beyond. But then? Those so-called golden years? Nature demands that we begin to deteriorate.
The most heartbreaking scene for me lately was a perky older woman pushing a younger lady in a wheelchair through Michaels craft store. There I was, inwardly kvetching about the traffic, and how I wasn't getting everything done that I'd hope to do, and how the sun wasn't out, grouch, groan. At that moment, the woman rolled her wheelchair-bound companion slowly past me, talking gently as she went. She reached for something on the shelf for her friend, placed it in her lap, and the recipient offered a barely audible, hardly decipherable word of thanks. I noticed how lovingly the elder woman responded, the kindness in her voice, the unhurried way she helped the other. I felt very small, and spoiled, and shallow.
It is good to be aware of this sort of thing. Good, because I can act when I see a need. Good, because I will appreciate my health, my body that still mostly does what I ask it to do. Good, because God has opened my eyes. I pray I will remember to be His hands to this growing number of opportunities. I hope I will remember to be thankful, and to act with gladness and obedience. Any of the folks I've been noticing could be, likely will be, me.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Springtime in Mel-ville
It's been a long stretch of sick days here in our house. First the kid, then me, then husband complained of scratchiness in the throat. The others shed the bug a bit earlier than I did; in my relentless stint, a completely unrelated infection cropped up, the meds that were required were strong enough to turn my stomach (and did), and finally my chest cold flirted with the idea of becoming bronchitis or pneumonia or some other debilitating thing. Today, for the first time, I feel human. Hot showers, Vicks Vaporub, and much prayer have helped me crawl out of the abyss that is an unwell February.
As I ran errands (yes, actually ran instead of dragging my exhausted, hacking self from place to place), I began to think about how emerging from a stretch of poor health is sort of like coming into your very own springtime. Suddenly, there is life where once there was nothing. There is energy, light, hope and promise. Just as stepping into a sunny spot on a breezy day can remind you that there really is such a thing as being too warm, waking up and feeling decent can remind you of your own potential, your own plans and dreams. It's hard to dream about anything happy when you feel sick. It's hard to even focus, to deal with everyday chores and necessary tasks. I've found it quite challenging of late simply to climb out of a sleepless, uncomfortable night and face the day.
I am very, very thankful to feel more like myself again. Not 100%, but tremendously improved from a week ago. I feel a little bit reborn. I can think clearly. I can look forward to things. I can stop my ceaseless petition to God for healing, and start to feel genuinely grateful again.
And speaking of spring, I've posted a couple of spring bird note cards at the Etsy shop. If you're looking for a good gift idea, especially for someone who loves birds, these will earn you some points for sure!
Wishing you good health, an early spring, and bright hope for tomorrow.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
A MUST READ! Mel’s magic foods
When I was pregnant, I found out I had a condition called gestational diabetes. Through no choice of my own, and out of terror at the thought of birthing a 20-pound infant, I was forced to acquire knowledge about glucose levels, the glycemic index, complex carbohydrates, and refined sugars. Of course, I was pregnant at the time… so thanks to pregnancy brain, much of that knowledge was swept right out of my head by rampant hormones. Still, I retain some of the basics, since as a prediabetic I still need to apply them daily; mostly. I know what foods make a huge difference in the way my own body processes food. So, by popular demand, I write this entry… which could easily be several entries, because there is so much to say about the matter.
I’ll warn you: I am not a doctor, nor a dietitian. I speak in layman’s terms because, frankly, they’re all I have. I can say with absolute truth that the information I’ll share here has worked for me, as evidenced by lower glucose readings. I hope you can get some ideas about how to improve your own eating habits. (And no, I don’t always do every single thing that I’ll list here. Sorry. Yep, hypocritical, I know.)
To put it basically, your body needs a considerable amount of food in its most raw forms. In short, the more processed and “done” a food is, the worse it is for your body. Anything that’s bleached or refined does too much of the work for you, and therefore causes your blood sugar to spike after you eat it. That’s not good for anyone, especially diabetics. What you need to understand is that all food has carbohydrates, or carbs. Some of the carbs are good and complex, and some are easy, empty carbs that do nothing for you but give you a quick energy and then make you sleepy. At least that’s what they do to me. Sometimes, they can even make you dizzy, light-headed, or nauseous once the spike is over.
There’s a tricky part about watching your sugar levels. It’s not just about avoiding sweets; it’s much more than that. All those boxed meals and crackers and white pasta and white bread and quick oatmeal and egg noodles… boy, they’re yummy in moderation, but eating them is practically the same as ingesting a chocolate bar or piece of cake. Maybe worse. They convert very quickly to sugars in your body, even though they don’t look like sugars going in. And that’s bad.
Anyway. The glycemic index is this giant index of food; each food is assigned a rating in the index, so it’s kind of like a scale. These ratings were determined by testing blood samples in healthy folks who’d eaten the foods; the ratings show whether the food in burned up quickly by your body, or whether it’s used more slowly and gradually, thus sticking with you longer and not causing blood sugar spikes. (BTW, you want to eat the slower, more gradual food.) Many food labels are beginning to include this GI rating to help people eat better. In short, foods that have a high GI rating are things made with bleached or enriched flours and sugars, like regular pasta, baked goods, white rice, etc. The foods that are low on the GI scale are veggies, most fruits, whole grains, that sort of thing—hence the whole grain train that’s making its way around the U.S.A. It’s easy to learn more about the glycemic index—just Google the phrase and have a field day. I’m no expert, so I’ll let you do that for homework.
Ideally, when you eat a meal, your plate should look like this: about ½ vegetables or vegetables/fruits, ¼ cereals/breads, and ¼ lean meat or protein. Plus, we eat monstrous portions in this country; therefore, in order to achieve that ideal plate, you’ll likely have to downsize each of those portions from what you’re expecting. Shocking, I know. If you haven’t yet done so, consult the labels on food packaging and finding out what THEY consider to be a serving; it’s quite eye-opening.
And remember, you’re not just shooting for low GI-rated, low carb foods. Your body needs carbs to be healthy. You just want to find the carbs that will take your body a longer time and more effort to digest. And you can’t rely solely on meat and cheese and the like—they’re often high in fat, and you don’t want to pig out on those and give yourself low glucose levels, but have a heart attack instead.
Okay. I’ve rambled long enough. I’ll get to the nitty gritty now. Just as love covers a multitude of sins, there are certain foods that cover a multitude of bad eating choices. Read on to hear about the foods that “cover” me.
Veggies: The magic vegetables that I’ve found are definitely spinach, celery, and baby carrots. They’re both best raw, of course, but spinach can be sautéed in olive oil with garlic, or used in soups, and likewise for celery and carrots—you just don’t want to cook them to death. Any dark, leafy greens are great. Brightly colored produce is good for you, so when they’re on sale, I try to work in red and yellow peppers. Some other great vegetable choices? Cauliflower is one (it’s great roasted with olive oil); zucchini, squash, and eggplant are good choices too—and in summer, you can slice ‘em and cook ‘em on the grill brushed with oil! Yum.
Fruits: Some are high in natural sugar. A reasonable sized apple, blueberries and other berries, grapes, melons—all are fine if I don’t overdo it. The problem with fruit isn’t typically the fruit itself—it’s what we do to them before we call them “good.” Eating your strawberries piled with Reddi-Whip is probably going to make them less beneficial for you. Also, canned fruits in regular syrup are off the charts. Don’t even bother unless you find some with no added sugar. Bananas? The more ripe they get, the higher in sugar they are.
Cereals: The more old-fashioned oatmeal you can work into recipes, the better. We actually started to make our own Muesli cereal so we can control exactly what goes into it—especially sugar, including the dried fruits, which are great energy foods but are very high in carbs. Wheat cereals and bran cereals are typically pretty good choices. Look at the carb counts on the labels of store-bought stuff and compare. Don’t forget to consider the serving size! Health-wise, a whole cup of crisped rice doesn’t hold a candle to a half-cup of shredded wheat.
Breads, pastas, and rice: The good news is yes, you can still eat them. You just need to eat less, and eat the right kind. I love Barilla Plus, which is awesome and tastes almost like regular pasta; another good one is the Barilla Whole Grain variety. Rice? Brown is a better choice, but be creative—try a wild rice mix, or the best type I’ve found, Basmati rice. I don’t know where it got the name, or whether it merits a capital letter, but it is much better for my glucose levels than plain old white rice. Jasmine rice also seems to be better than plain white. Whole wheat breads are the best for you—but whole wheat flour had better be the first ingredient, or the loaf is misrepresenting itself. Any grainy bread is good, really—crusty helps, too. The worst? White sandwich bread, especially the kind that makes a doughy ball when you roll it up in your fingers. The very worst for me? Mancini’s regular Italian. Sorry, Pittsburghers—it’s great stuff, but not for diabetics.
Beans: They’re good. Use them in stews, casseroles, skillet meals. If you use the canned ones (and most of us do), then rinse them before you use them. And if you don’t eat meat, use even more.
Nuts: These make great snacks, in moderation. Peanut butter, too. Yes, they’re high in fats, but it’s the good fat, not the saturated kind that clogs your arteries. Plus, peanut butter gives you protein, which is good. Get used to throwing some sunflowers or pine nuts in your salads, and always use peanuts in stir-fried meals.
Meat: Of course lean is best. Fish is especially great. Be warned, though—when you fry the fish, you reverse all the good stuff about it. Bake it, cook it in a pan, grill it in foil boats, but don’t coat it with egg and crumbs and toss it in boiling oil every time you have it; make fried fish the exception. I’ve also had great luck with venison, much to the chagrin of all you people who won’t touch it. A small amount—of lean beef, sausage that’s drained after cooking, and chicken—will go a long way in flavoring dishes and making them a bit more complicated for your stomach. Eggs are in this section too, I suppose—I’m not a big egg person, but I’m sure they’re fine in moderation.
Dairy: You need it. I should drink skim milk, but I don’t because I don’t want to buy two varieties of milk all the time. So, 2% works for me. Yogurt is also excellent, but don’t buy the fruity, sugary containers that you love. Buy the economy-size vanilla (I’d say plain, but no one eats it, including me) and then mix it with some cereal or a little bit of fresh fruit. Or, to save time, you can buy the light yogurts with artificial sweetener—yes, they still have that aftertaste, but they’re not bad, and you’ll really cut out a lot of sugar, plus do your stomach a favor. And cheese is great, cottage and ricotta cheese too. Use them in quiche or in sauces—a little goes far.
Fast food: It’s bad for you. If you must, get the side salad with the sandwich instead of fries. The taco salad at Wendy’s is always a safe choice, as are the big grilled chicken salads at McDonald’s. Other fast foods, or restaurant foods like Chinese and Mexican? They’re deadly. If you prepare the same thing yourself at home, with fresh ingredients, it makes a big difference. For example, I’ve seen my glucose readings differ by 30 points if I ate a small, frozen burrito vs. making the same (larger) burrito myself.
SUGAR: Don’t keep sugary stuff in the house. You’ll eat it. I love to bake, so I’ve come up with some recipes that are more forgiving because they incorporate some of these magic foods. But the truth is that I can’t have those in the house either—I just can’t leave them alone. So, be wise and don’t tempt yourself unnecessarily. And YES, you can get used to using Splenda in your coffee and tea. It does help. Not the same… but you get used to it.
Boy. This was a long post. And I could go on. But I won’t. You have some basics now. If none of this is new information to you, then sorry for wasting your time. If you found an error in my facts, then please let me know so I can amend the entry. And honestly, it’s just about common sense, changing the way you shop and cook, a little at a time. Eat the stuff you can’t go without—but put it alongside something that will help cover the bad food. Pizza? Add a salad and cut out a slice. Mac and cheese? Make your own from scratch using whole wheat macaroni. Haluski? Make it with whole grain noodles and extra cabbage. You can make this work! You can make a difference! You’ll feel better! Your body will thank you! And best of all, you’ll decrease your chances of developing some of the nastiest, most harmful diseases known to man.
Sorry, though—you will spend more money on healthy food. There's always a cost, right? Enjoy—and healthy eating!
I’ll warn you: I am not a doctor, nor a dietitian. I speak in layman’s terms because, frankly, they’re all I have. I can say with absolute truth that the information I’ll share here has worked for me, as evidenced by lower glucose readings. I hope you can get some ideas about how to improve your own eating habits. (And no, I don’t always do every single thing that I’ll list here. Sorry. Yep, hypocritical, I know.)
To put it basically, your body needs a considerable amount of food in its most raw forms. In short, the more processed and “done” a food is, the worse it is for your body. Anything that’s bleached or refined does too much of the work for you, and therefore causes your blood sugar to spike after you eat it. That’s not good for anyone, especially diabetics. What you need to understand is that all food has carbohydrates, or carbs. Some of the carbs are good and complex, and some are easy, empty carbs that do nothing for you but give you a quick energy and then make you sleepy. At least that’s what they do to me. Sometimes, they can even make you dizzy, light-headed, or nauseous once the spike is over.
There’s a tricky part about watching your sugar levels. It’s not just about avoiding sweets; it’s much more than that. All those boxed meals and crackers and white pasta and white bread and quick oatmeal and egg noodles… boy, they’re yummy in moderation, but eating them is practically the same as ingesting a chocolate bar or piece of cake. Maybe worse. They convert very quickly to sugars in your body, even though they don’t look like sugars going in. And that’s bad.
Anyway. The glycemic index is this giant index of food; each food is assigned a rating in the index, so it’s kind of like a scale. These ratings were determined by testing blood samples in healthy folks who’d eaten the foods; the ratings show whether the food in burned up quickly by your body, or whether it’s used more slowly and gradually, thus sticking with you longer and not causing blood sugar spikes. (BTW, you want to eat the slower, more gradual food.) Many food labels are beginning to include this GI rating to help people eat better. In short, foods that have a high GI rating are things made with bleached or enriched flours and sugars, like regular pasta, baked goods, white rice, etc. The foods that are low on the GI scale are veggies, most fruits, whole grains, that sort of thing—hence the whole grain train that’s making its way around the U.S.A. It’s easy to learn more about the glycemic index—just Google the phrase and have a field day. I’m no expert, so I’ll let you do that for homework.
Ideally, when you eat a meal, your plate should look like this: about ½ vegetables or vegetables/fruits, ¼ cereals/breads, and ¼ lean meat or protein. Plus, we eat monstrous portions in this country; therefore, in order to achieve that ideal plate, you’ll likely have to downsize each of those portions from what you’re expecting. Shocking, I know. If you haven’t yet done so, consult the labels on food packaging and finding out what THEY consider to be a serving; it’s quite eye-opening.
And remember, you’re not just shooting for low GI-rated, low carb foods. Your body needs carbs to be healthy. You just want to find the carbs that will take your body a longer time and more effort to digest. And you can’t rely solely on meat and cheese and the like—they’re often high in fat, and you don’t want to pig out on those and give yourself low glucose levels, but have a heart attack instead.
Okay. I’ve rambled long enough. I’ll get to the nitty gritty now. Just as love covers a multitude of sins, there are certain foods that cover a multitude of bad eating choices. Read on to hear about the foods that “cover” me.
Veggies: The magic vegetables that I’ve found are definitely spinach, celery, and baby carrots. They’re both best raw, of course, but spinach can be sautéed in olive oil with garlic, or used in soups, and likewise for celery and carrots—you just don’t want to cook them to death. Any dark, leafy greens are great. Brightly colored produce is good for you, so when they’re on sale, I try to work in red and yellow peppers. Some other great vegetable choices? Cauliflower is one (it’s great roasted with olive oil); zucchini, squash, and eggplant are good choices too—and in summer, you can slice ‘em and cook ‘em on the grill brushed with oil! Yum.
Fruits: Some are high in natural sugar. A reasonable sized apple, blueberries and other berries, grapes, melons—all are fine if I don’t overdo it. The problem with fruit isn’t typically the fruit itself—it’s what we do to them before we call them “good.” Eating your strawberries piled with Reddi-Whip is probably going to make them less beneficial for you. Also, canned fruits in regular syrup are off the charts. Don’t even bother unless you find some with no added sugar. Bananas? The more ripe they get, the higher in sugar they are.
Cereals: The more old-fashioned oatmeal you can work into recipes, the better. We actually started to make our own Muesli cereal so we can control exactly what goes into it—especially sugar, including the dried fruits, which are great energy foods but are very high in carbs. Wheat cereals and bran cereals are typically pretty good choices. Look at the carb counts on the labels of store-bought stuff and compare. Don’t forget to consider the serving size! Health-wise, a whole cup of crisped rice doesn’t hold a candle to a half-cup of shredded wheat.
Breads, pastas, and rice: The good news is yes, you can still eat them. You just need to eat less, and eat the right kind. I love Barilla Plus, which is awesome and tastes almost like regular pasta; another good one is the Barilla Whole Grain variety. Rice? Brown is a better choice, but be creative—try a wild rice mix, or the best type I’ve found, Basmati rice. I don’t know where it got the name, or whether it merits a capital letter, but it is much better for my glucose levels than plain old white rice. Jasmine rice also seems to be better than plain white. Whole wheat breads are the best for you—but whole wheat flour had better be the first ingredient, or the loaf is misrepresenting itself. Any grainy bread is good, really—crusty helps, too. The worst? White sandwich bread, especially the kind that makes a doughy ball when you roll it up in your fingers. The very worst for me? Mancini’s regular Italian. Sorry, Pittsburghers—it’s great stuff, but not for diabetics.
Beans: They’re good. Use them in stews, casseroles, skillet meals. If you use the canned ones (and most of us do), then rinse them before you use them. And if you don’t eat meat, use even more.
Nuts: These make great snacks, in moderation. Peanut butter, too. Yes, they’re high in fats, but it’s the good fat, not the saturated kind that clogs your arteries. Plus, peanut butter gives you protein, which is good. Get used to throwing some sunflowers or pine nuts in your salads, and always use peanuts in stir-fried meals.
Meat: Of course lean is best. Fish is especially great. Be warned, though—when you fry the fish, you reverse all the good stuff about it. Bake it, cook it in a pan, grill it in foil boats, but don’t coat it with egg and crumbs and toss it in boiling oil every time you have it; make fried fish the exception. I’ve also had great luck with venison, much to the chagrin of all you people who won’t touch it. A small amount—of lean beef, sausage that’s drained after cooking, and chicken—will go a long way in flavoring dishes and making them a bit more complicated for your stomach. Eggs are in this section too, I suppose—I’m not a big egg person, but I’m sure they’re fine in moderation.
Dairy: You need it. I should drink skim milk, but I don’t because I don’t want to buy two varieties of milk all the time. So, 2% works for me. Yogurt is also excellent, but don’t buy the fruity, sugary containers that you love. Buy the economy-size vanilla (I’d say plain, but no one eats it, including me) and then mix it with some cereal or a little bit of fresh fruit. Or, to save time, you can buy the light yogurts with artificial sweetener—yes, they still have that aftertaste, but they’re not bad, and you’ll really cut out a lot of sugar, plus do your stomach a favor. And cheese is great, cottage and ricotta cheese too. Use them in quiche or in sauces—a little goes far.
Fast food: It’s bad for you. If you must, get the side salad with the sandwich instead of fries. The taco salad at Wendy’s is always a safe choice, as are the big grilled chicken salads at McDonald’s. Other fast foods, or restaurant foods like Chinese and Mexican? They’re deadly. If you prepare the same thing yourself at home, with fresh ingredients, it makes a big difference. For example, I’ve seen my glucose readings differ by 30 points if I ate a small, frozen burrito vs. making the same (larger) burrito myself.
SUGAR: Don’t keep sugary stuff in the house. You’ll eat it. I love to bake, so I’ve come up with some recipes that are more forgiving because they incorporate some of these magic foods. But the truth is that I can’t have those in the house either—I just can’t leave them alone. So, be wise and don’t tempt yourself unnecessarily. And YES, you can get used to using Splenda in your coffee and tea. It does help. Not the same… but you get used to it.
Boy. This was a long post. And I could go on. But I won’t. You have some basics now. If none of this is new information to you, then sorry for wasting your time. If you found an error in my facts, then please let me know so I can amend the entry. And honestly, it’s just about common sense, changing the way you shop and cook, a little at a time. Eat the stuff you can’t go without—but put it alongside something that will help cover the bad food. Pizza? Add a salad and cut out a slice. Mac and cheese? Make your own from scratch using whole wheat macaroni. Haluski? Make it with whole grain noodles and extra cabbage. You can make this work! You can make a difference! You’ll feel better! Your body will thank you! And best of all, you’ll decrease your chances of developing some of the nastiest, most harmful diseases known to man.
Sorry, though—you will spend more money on healthy food. There's always a cost, right? Enjoy—and healthy eating!
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