A few years ago I was diagnosed with LPR. What that means is that I’ve had a sore throat almost every day for the last six years or so. When I found out what I needed to do to fix the problem, I was mortified. I would have to put the top of my bed on stilts and sleep at a 10 to 20 degree angle. More importantly, I would have to give up ALL of my favorite things:
Needless to say, I’ve never completely followed my doctor’s orders because a life without tomatoes just isn’t worth living. I could say the same thing about coffee and a few other things on this list. I’ve cut back on the things that bother me the most and reached somewhat of an equilibrium. If I can’t cure myself, I’m happy with where I’m at. However, what if I could cure myself?
The thought nags me from time to time. LPR can cause permanent damage. I used to sing, and I’ve pretty much lost my voice. Also, over time, LPR might cause cancer. So from time to time, I think about just doing it, just giving up all those things, at least as an experiment.
Around Christmas, I decided I would do it this year; I would do it at Lent. I’m not Catholic, but the thought of all those Catholics giving up all those things that make them happy is motivational. If they can do it, so can I. Also, there is a beginning and an END. Forty days is also an appropriate length of time for my “science experiment.”
I was all set to go it alone on my crazy 40-day diet, because why would I ask to my husband to torture himself for no reason? But this week, as I started pulling my own stuff out the fridge, he looked a little disconcerted. For eight years, we’ve always cooked together.
He pulled out some cookbooks we hardly ever use (Italian, Japanese) and started looking for recipes that wouldn’t contain any of the forbidden items: not an easy task.
This story is not about suffering or sickness or tenacity. No, this story is about being the LUCKIEST, because that is how I felt when I saw my husband would rather give up a few things with me than go on enjoying them alone.