Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Dear Dairy, I love you. I miss you. (Call me)

It's very un-writer of me to cut to the chase like this, and you probably haven't figured this out yet, but I do have a penchant for drama (ahem), but this time, I'm going to make an exception: All my GI biopsies were benign.

BOOM. Can I get a whoop, whoop?!

I go back to my oncologist for more biopsies in May, but I'm kind of enjoying this "benign" roll that I'm on.

I wasn't too worried about the GI biopsies because my gastroenterologist said that everything looked good. And if there's one thing I've learned this year, it's that doctors don't say stuff looks good when it looks bad. Another thing I've learned is that when it looks good, it usually is. And another thing I've learned is that I can talk exactly like Nicki Minaj - it's a cross between New Jersey and British and it's always super annoying - but that's sort of unrelated to what we're talking about here. So, moving on.

My gastroenterologist told me to avoid dairy. He thought I developed a dairy allergy.

Uhmmm, come again? Dairy allergy? There's no freakin' way. See, I've been sprinkling cheese on my food three times a day my entire life. Seriously, if you wrapped a turd in cheese, I would probably eat it. And then ask for seconds.

And you know how I sometimes write, "Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? Banana split?" Well, just for the record, I don't use "banana split" there because I detest them. I use "banana split" because on most days I'd rather have a banana split than a foot rub and a Grey's Anatomy marathon on Lifetime.

I began to think about how much dairy I ingest on a single day: lattes in the morning, sub sandwiches with cheese for lunch, yogurt for snack (okay, doughnuts, whateves), spaghetti with Parmesan cheese sprinkled on top for dinner, and who doesn't love a bowl of Lucky Charms at midnight?  Exactly, nobody. So my dairy consumption hovers right around 100%.

He could have told me that I developed an allergy to my left arm and it would have been easier to take. That thing's pretty much just decoration anyway.

Truth be told, mainly because I'm stubborn and I wanted to prove him wrong, I cut dairy from my diet this week. I even switched to non-dairy creamer for my coffee. Now that's dedication, people. Bleck.

And fortunately/ unfortunately, I'd like to report that I feel a ton better. Dagnabbit. Is that fool right? Am I going to have to live without dairy? Is it too late to trade in my left arm?

It hasn't been quite as hard as I thought it would be, though. I made some minor adjustments to my meal and snack choices, and all and all, it's been worth it not feel like total garbage all the time.

But last night, I dreamed about cheese. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I literally dreamed about a wedge of Gouda. I remember the days of old when I used to dream about performing on stage or winning the lottery, but now it's aged cheddar and sliced swiss. So sad.

I'm also going to start a vitamin and mineral regimen to see if that helps. I'm no doctor, but I think it's awfully coincidental that I suddenly became allergic to milk at the same time that I got cancer. Maybe my body was depleted of something that breaks down dairy? Whatever it is, I would like to have it back now, thank you very much.

Of course, then again, what if consuming dairy is like driving a car? You know how you can only drive so many miles before your car is done-for? Maybe I'm not the drive-until-the-wheels-fall-off-Honda that some people are. And since my daily consumption of dairy is equivalent to a cross-country cruise, maybe I ran out of miles faster than most people.

But either way, there is no diary in my diet for now. Or, very little; I am human after all.

Look, I can take all the bad news, the surgeries, the treatments, the tests, BUT FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, haven't I been through enough? Do I have to give up my ice cream and my sour cream and my pizza, too? They're all I have left.

I've always joked that my brain was like a pin-ball machine: one little thought sends that silver ball flying around in a million directions, and before you know it, I've gone from The Emancipation Proclamation to summer capris in seconds. Sometimes not even I can figure out how I got from Point A to Point B.

But these days, I'm pretty much just thinking about one thing: dairy. That little silver ball travels on one path, and the road looks something like this...

But all kidding aside, giving up dairy is a small price to pay to continue to be cancer free. Let the good times roll! Just don't serve any cheese at your celebration party, mmm'kay? I can only take so much. I'm weak, I tell ya. Weak.

Hey, would you mind passing the non-dairy creamer? Lord knows you won't be using it for anything.