Originally written: July 17, 2015
Today I went to see a nutritionist. She was a sweet woman with red hair like my own. I sat across from her in the little office, my dear mother sitting next to me, and found myself wondering if that's how my hair will look when I get older. She was gracious and informative—answered all my questions about the Mediterranean diet. Somewhere along the way I’d read that I needed to monitor my saturated fat intake. She agreed.
I’m 5’8” and 115 pounds—blessed to the core with skinny genes (as in the kind inside of you, not the kind you buy at the store). Everyone I talk to about my recent diagnosis says, “Well at least you’re so healthy!” They look at me and make so many assumptions—that I have to watch what I eat and run all the time. They couldn’t be further from the truth. I don’t exercise, although I am very busy—three children three and under and a basketball team will do that to you. But in terms of eating—there is no filter. I eat whatever I want whenever I want and have my entire life. S’mores and ice cream are my favorite snacks. I know a perfect marshmallow takes 7 seconds in the microwave during the frosty winter when I can’t have a fire to make it golden brown. I keep my chocolate in the refrigerator to counter the warm gooeyness of the marshmallow. My mouth waters just thinking about it. A whole sleeve of Oreo cookies on the couch is not an unusual evening snack. I eat out all the time and, like the rest of America, mealtime is more of an event than anything else—an event that I cherish.
But now I have MS. And now I might not be able to walk eventually. And now my mind might go, too. And now I’m supposed to start working out. And now I’m supposed to stop eating everything I love and eat like a bird.
I need to put myself in timeout and recite what I require of my three year olds: “Do everything without complaining or arguing” (Phil. 2:14). I sound like a three year old. And as I write this down, I ask for forgiveness. So many people have it far, far worse. And I am so incredibly blessed. What is my problem? What happened to being thankful in all circumstances, as the verse says that sits on my kitchen counter?
Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
I really am thankful, I keep telling people.
Most of the time... .
I recognized the anger as I walked out of her office with my mom. She didn’t know I was holding back tears as she offered to stop at BJs to get the latest version of the Nutri Ninja and a bag of frozen fruit mixed with kale (Make me puke, I thought—although I’ll confess it’s actually not that bad).
I still feel angry two days later after a long weekend with the team in Columbus. I am mourning the loss of food. Or I am mourning and food is my object of focus. Everywhere I turn is something I would have ordered before and everywhere I turn I’m reminded that I’m different now. That it will be different now forever. I must constantly remind myself: Be faithful, Abbey, be faithful. Trust in the Lord and in His will.