Absence of Treatment isn't Absence of Care

For the past year I've started every day with rice-based toast or gluten-free cereal, accompanied by a cup of coffee or tea. When lunchtime rolls around, I'll usually have leftovers from the dinner before or a sandwich on the same gluten-free bread. Dinner is when I get more creative; Chinese, Italian, American concoctions...all happen without the existence of wheat.

Most of you know that I'm not doing this because I'm trying out a new diet, or that I'm doing some sort of crazed fad. I have Celiac Disease, an autoimmune condition that is triggered by the consumption of anything containing gluten. Reactions include severe stomach pain and rashes...continued exposure over a lifetime causes the intestinal lining to be eaten away, and that's when malnutrition and lymphoma sets in.

Gluten itself is an elastic protein that's most commonly found in grains, specifically wheat. Since wheat is in damn near everything nowadays, it's pretty tough to avoid. Think about that for a moment. No pizza, no pasta, no cake, no bread, nothing with soy sauce (it's made with wheat), and no beer. Some people have told me that they'd rather die than commit to the only treatment available: maintaining a gluten-free diet.
As often happens, communities emerge to offer support and advice. In Chicago, gluten-free options have started to emerge in more and more places as restaurants and manufacturers of food realize that there's a yet untapped market. There's a wheat-free bakery nearby, the pizzeria down the street offers gluten-free pizza, and one of the best cupcake joints in the city is owned by a Celiac. Times are getting better.

And yet...people seem to be unsatisfied. I can't say that I haven't ever held a product in contempt for containing gluten, but sometimes the anger of other patients seems to go too far. I met a fellow Celiac who remained obstinate in her belief that the medical field was lacking in its efforts to find a cure for Celiac Disease. "If they can't make a pill for it, they won't try to fix it!" is the cry that I hear most often. In other instances, doctors are chastised for not knowing the particulars of a condition that is only coming into the public light.

In their frustration, many patients have turned to pseudo-scientific methodologies for dealing with the disease. One acquaintance has "given up on doctors", while others seek succor in the form of wellness programs that are little more than half-baked nutrition programs built on the presumption that most ailments can be cured by allowing the body to heal itself.

I'm not certain where these people get off on bashing the very field that is keeping them informed and in good health. Sure, a diagnosis is sometimes difficult to obtain, but you'd expect that with a disease that is asymptomatic. Heck, did doctors know absolutely everything about every disease when research began? No. Some doctors came out of medical school only knowing that Celiac Disease was a real problem for your child to have, and that was it. Because that was the only information available at that time. I have no doubt that in the coming years more research will be published (because right now I know for a fact that it's being done), and that more solutions will come to pass. It's inappropriate that we be furious with our doctors for not being able to solve a problem with a quick fix.

From the Mouths of Babes

It's strange what things stick in your mind from the early parts of life.

I hardly remember anything from elementary school. I know the name of my first grade teacher, how big the school felt, and some of the changes that happened there. Out of everything, though...one things sticks out in my head.

The card game Magic: The Gathering was banned from our school. It wasn't because teachers and administrators were afraid that we'd gamble on the games (nobody ever did), it was because the cards represented "bad spirits". This is kind of like saying that Pokemon trading cards will summon the devil.

Cards would be confiscated on sight, and the requisite scolding administered. At first, it was only the devout Catholic yard supervisors who did this. However, once it trickled on down the line of subordinate staff members, damn near all the staff started taking them away.

Sure, one could make the argument that they didn't want us to lose stuff that cost money lest our parents get upset. However, I think it went deeper than this...nearly everybody at my school was either some form of Christian or a Buddhist. I was one of the very, very few that had no declared religion and hadn't really made up my mind on the whole God thing yet. (For the record, I still haven't.) I used to get into little mini-debates in 6th-8th grade about the origins of life and evolution (huge nerrrrrd, I know), and I'd always get attacked by the Christians who insisted without proof that we had only been on Earth for 6,000 years. Once during class, I even had a teacher go over both Creationism and evolution, because he felt that they were both equally legitimate theories. As he put it, "They're both very convincing. One day I can prove to you that evolution is true, and then the next day prove to you that Creation is true". What the fuck was going on?

I still don't have an answer for what happened. I don't blame anybody or any group in particular for this, because I don't feel like I was trampled on, persecuted, or forced to believe in something that I don't agree with. I simply find it interesting that nearly 15 years ago this was the case...that something like that went unnoticed.

Thoughteses

• Needed to go to the bathroom yesterday while at the coffee shop. I considered asking the stranger-girl next to me to watch my Macbook while I ran in for a quick stop. Then I realized, aren't I trying to prevent my laptop from being stolen? Maybe she's a kleptomaniac? So I ran home instead. (With my computer).
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• Speaking of which, who decided that coffee shops are good places to get things done? I just go there so that I can get the hell out of my apartment. And to stare creepily at the people who come in.
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• If you want to comment and are confounded by needing a Google Account, here's a handy tip: it's the same thing as your Gmail. Everybody has one of those, right?
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• Super Bowl coming up soon. I barely know who's playing, but I know that I want to drink heavily and eat horrible things. Hosting a party could be fun, provided that everybody resonates with my feelings for the day. Perhaps I'll just ask all guests to come in formal wear and we'll critique the commercials. Enough of my friends have liberal arts degrees or used to review things for a living.
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• How do you know that your medical co-pays are too high? When you hand the nurse your insurance card and she has a noticeable reaction to what's listed. This is what I get for having an impacted kidney stone taken out of me.
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• I have gotten very good at extrapolating what people are saying on the phone, thanks to AT&T's awful cell service in Chicago. I'm hoping that eventually I'll just be able to look at someone and infer what they're saying.
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• At the doctor's office yesterday, I heard the doc say the word "erection" in the exam room next to me. I giggled.
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• Shit. Since I wrote "erection", HERE COMES THE FLOOD O'BOTS.
  

Quarter-Life Crisis

Turned 25 about two weeks ago.

I sense that this is somehow supposed to be a watershed moment. My mother continues to jokingly remind me that when she was my age, she had already given birth to me. She also continues to innocently ask about any plans for me to get married. By 25, I guess some people think that this is supposed to already have happened. Oh, and don't get me started on the advancement of my career...

But really, 25 isn't a special age anymore. What used to be a reliable demarcation line for success is now simply a number that affords me certain sad privileges that aren't all that great when you sit and think about them. I can now rent a car without fear of extra fees or stern rejection from the people behind the Hertz desk. Also, everyone tells me that my car insurance is supposed to drop dramatically the moment I hit this age. What, does being a quarter-century old denote a heightened ability to drive slower?

Side note: If there are any other benefits directly related to being 25 or over, please let me know. I want to abuse all of them. Maybe even in the same weekend.

The reality of this numeric situation hit me square in the face when I was taking a survey...somewhere. You've taken these; you know how it works. They ask you for your gender, age, and ethnicity before allowing you to go further. Ages are broken into categories: 18-24, 25-30, etc. I'm no longer a spry statistic...I fall squarely in the middle.

Even worse is the fact that I'm getting hit by old people diseases. Last month, I had a couple of kidney stones that were so bad that they needed to be removed via a rather...invasive procedure. While I was in blinding pain, the doctors thought this to be both hilarious and enigmatic. How could a kid in his mid-twenties get kidney stones? Bah!

While this isn't my midlife crisis by any means...I somehow feel like I'm entitled to a brand new sports car. Feel free to leave one in the comments.

The Plight of the Unemployed

Not working is one hell of a job. Here's how it goes:

8:30am: Girlfriend's alarm clock rings, then another. Then another, then another. We both ignore said alarms and doze for another half-hour.

9:00am: Sensing that she has actual responsibilities to take care of, girlfriend gets out of bed and prepares to commute to her place of gainful employment. I remain unfazed and asleep.

10:30am: Hunger awakes your humble narrator. I stumble into the kitchen, prep a quick breakfast and check email.

10:45am: Breakfast summarily devoured; now browsing job boards on Craigslist and professional sites. Sometimes there is a post, sometimes not. If there is, I wait to become less groggy and then I send off the necessary materials. If there isn't, I whine via Twitter about there not being jobs available.

11:30am: Email is then checked, and messages from companies saying that "they admire my resume and portfolio but can't hire me" are replied to politely through tears. I update my Excel spreadsheet of companies I've contacted.

12:00pm-1:30pm: Lunch, bitches!

1:30pm-4:00pm: Check job boards again in the vain hope that a company has put something up that I can throw a resume at. (I learned a few months ago that companies very rarely do this if they're only looking for one person...in this economy they'll get hundreds of emails/applications regarding the job. They're loathe to post because they don't want to go through tons of applications.)

4:00pm: Surprise! Nobody hiring today.

4:00pm-7:00pm: Video game time. At the very least, I can take my frustration out on aliens or zombies.

(Rinse and Repeat)

Anger Mismanagement Training

Contrary to popular belief, I need to become angrier.

The reason for the lack of posts thus far is not because I'm lazy as shit (yes, I am at times), but more that I've got a complete lack of lexical stimuli. Back when I was still at The Bad Place, I could think about the goings-on for a moment or two and then work myself into an uncontrollable rage that could only be satiated by pounding a keyboard with my forehead. Yes, alcohol typically helped in this most sacred process, but if it works then why break it.

This leads me to believe that I need to put myself in situations where I need to treat everything as a binary. No longer will I be ambivalent; all matters of happenstance will immediately trigger a response of either gushing-petting-puppies-love or splattering anger.

What will this lead to? Probably a lot of fights, or people thinking that I'm bipolar. But at least I'll have material.