And now it begins…

That piece of toast just disappeared!

Reintroduction: week 1, day 1

So, a very long, occasionally frustrating 10 weeks of fodmap elimination, and I’ve made it! So, yesterday, as instructed, I returned to the hospital to find out what happens next.

What happens next, Rachel? Well, I’m so glad you asked. As it turns out, I actually get to choose the order in which I reintroduce the foods. Which is, frankly, a lot of responsibility. The reintroduction goes like this:

1. Choose a food from the very large list to reintroduce.
2. Work out the rough amount you used to eat of it in a go.
3. From there, devise a three-part, three-day reintroduction, starting with approximately 1/3 of that serving, then 2/3, then the full serve. If you have a reaction, stop. If you don’t, carry on.
4. After the three days, go back to full-on Fodmap exclusion for three days.
5. Start again with next food. Ad infinitum.

As there’s such a long list, this is a slow-going process and you don’t get to keep on eating the foods once you’ve tested them, apparently many people take a break after a bit, to have a week or two eating all the foods they’ve successfully reintroduced. My ears pricked up when I heard that, because in a few weeks’ time, I’m going to France.

So, suddenly, my reintroduction plan had focus – namely, making sure I could enjoy baguettes and my favourite Rondelé Noix de Dordogne for a start. Also, onions and garlic were going to be key. I made myself a list with that in mind, and that brings us up to this morning.

As I’m doing this not just for IBS but also for reflux, I really need to see what’s going on with my symptoms. So, to make keeping tabs a little bit easier, I’ve also started a Google Doc that I can fill in at home and at work. As of this morning, I’m now tracking everything I eat and drink, including the apparently ‘safe’ foods, how I feel physically and emotionally, and even what I’m doing at the time, plus what I like to call ‘mitigating factors’. Today’s being mega PMT. Surely this lot will help me to get to the crux of my issues. Today, I ate a slice of proper toast, with a little butter. Real toast, people! So far, no obvious symptoms, or nothing I haven’t been experiencing mildly during the elimination phase. So, tomorrow, two slices. On Thursday, three… And soon… the world! Mwa ha ha ha ha…

(I think maybe the real wheat is going to my head. Or it could be the Nanny State I chased down my dinner with. Living dangerously, here!)

 

Ups and downs

Week 3, Day 14

I’ve found a way to get around the crushing sadness of not being able to eat many of the foods I like. Three words: chocolate, wine, carbs.

All of them featured reasonably heavily in my previous week’s menu, but now they’re a daily, soothing presence. I’ve also discovered something about myself. When I feel deprived and desolate, I buy jam. Particularly, variants of strawberry jam.

Why do I find strawberry jam suddenly irresistible?

The weird thing is, I didn’t even realise I was doing it. Jam #1 was already in my cupboard, but I hadn’t yet opened it when I popped my cash in the honesty box for Jam #2, a cheeky local number with rhubarb (no Fodmaps detected in this food, which means: yay rhubarb!). I was at an am dram rehearsal and everyone else had tea and biscuits. I had hot water… Then on Monday I was picking up a few essentials from the Co-op (wine, chocolate, lactose-free milk) when this somehow jumped into my basket. Given I’m nearly through the Bonne Maman – and a jar of jam usually lasts me at least a month in judicious spoonfuls – I think stocking up may have been wise.

5 ways I’m mainlining strawberry jam:

1. On toasted 100% spelt sourdough bread, along with a scraping of butter.
2. Dolloped into overnight oats – oats, lactose-free yoghurt and, yup, jam, layered in a jam jar to remind me of jam. Jam, jam, jam, jam, lovely jam! Wonderful jam! etc, with apologies to the Monty Python crew.
3. As dessert, on a cheesecake-style base of oats, lactose-free yoghurt, jam and shards of milk-free dark chocolate left for long enough for the oats to get soggy.
4. Spread onto a small green banana.
5. Spooned straight from the jar. Don’t judge me.

If I get time at the weekend, I am totally making rice flour crumpets. Because: jam.

It’s possible the jam/chocolate/wine consumption this week has also been stress related. Especially since Monday, with two family members having operations, and I am a worrier. This little monster has been recuperating at home with me today:

Is there anything more piteous than a sicky kitty? He’s doing well, and once the cone of shame comes off I think he’ll be back to his conflicted, purry yet bitey self.

Gluten-free pasta figured a fair bit again this week, with measured amounts of veggie Cheddar. I did manage one proper, veg-packed meal, carefully checking quantities to make sure it was fully fodmap-friendly.

Actual, proper cooking – sublime

Easy peasy noodle bowl

Makes enough for two (noodles are amazing cold, IMHO, hence the doubling up)

• Cook enough rice noodles for two portions – I used one wrapped portion of King Soba Organic Thai Rice Noodles, about 75g – refresh in cold water then drain.
• In a wok, fry a small amount of finely diced celery in a little oil until translucent and gently golden (use less than quarter of a stick per portion)
• Add very fine slices of a fresh red pepper, some halved baby sweetcorn (cut lengthways) and two whole baby pak choi, and cook on a medium heat until the pak choi look softened all the way through.
• Add a splash of water every now and then to stop it sticking, and after about 5 minutes, add 2 handfuls of beansprouts. At the same time, start an egg frying in a separate pan.
• When the veg are just done, stir through about a tablespoon of teriyaki sauce (check yours is low-fodmap) and a splash of water. Take off the heat and stir in 2 tsp rice flour mixed with water, then return to the heat and add the rice noodles. I also added 2 tsp sesame oil while heating the noodles through and letting the sauce thicken.
• Spoon half into a bowl and top with the fried egg. I added extra soy sauce to taste because I like the saltiness. You could also finish it with a drizzle more sesame oil – I’m trying to balance out all the chocolate I’ve been eating by keeping it as light as possible. Pierce the yolk and enjoy the scrumminess!

The other half went into a tupperware box, and yes, it was really good cold. Noodle win!

Vegan variation: Stir in 1 tbsp crunchy peanut butter and 2 tsp garam masala (mine had no suspect ingredients) along with the teriyaki sauce. I did this without an egg as a delicious vegan version. I think it may have been even tastier!

Next week’s goal – less stress, less jam, more variety. Keep on Fodding along…

#14 It’s not over until the fat lady gets thinner…

Not long out of plaster – and a stone heavier than before the big break

So, I’m pretty lucky, in that I’m one of those hateful long and thin ectomorph types, so even when I’m heavy by my standards, I never look very chubby. My jeans are less forgiving, of course.

So, they don’t tell you you’re bound to gain weight, although, to be fair, I might have guessed that for myself. My arms looked amazing at the end of six months in plaster. I don’t think I’ve ever had biceps before! But the rest of me had gone a bit soggy in the middle. And it didn’t stop the moment I became bipedal, of course. Because I still had the Herr Flick limp and kitten-like weakness meaning every few steps was punctuated with a nice sit-down and a cup of tea.

I didn’t dare to weigh myself with the cast on, but post cast-removal I was a rather distressing 18-odd pounds heavier than before. And I don’t put on weight too easily. So I dread to think how others may have fared. Then came Christmas. Having committed myself to a dancing and singing part in Oh What A Lovely War with my beloved Wivenhoe Gilbert & Sullivan society, that was a problem. Not only would I need to get flexible enough to give at least a passing impression of being an Edwardian ballerina, but I’d also need to lose at least a bit of that weight to get into any of my clothes.

Back to the dancing again!

Long story short, I made it on both counts, stretching every day and doing all my physio exercises (plus a few I made up to get that ankle moving again after six months of atrophy), and even managed the ridiculously quick change into my tutu…

 

Nearly back to usual, although the ballet could still use a bit of work!

So, all’s well that ends well, but it wasn’t easy. However, if I hadn’t pushed myself so hard, would I still be sitting down a lot and wussing out of country walks? Who knows. Goals are great… but you do have to be kind to yourself too!

Even though my leg-related drama is pretty much at an end (I sincerely hope!), I’m determined to continue this blog, and give more useful information for all of you only at the beginning of yours. We flamingos need to flock together! x

#13 Flamingo hols are fabulous

So basically, Florida was a blast, but also a catalogue of frustrations to overcome. The trick was to not think about how much more fun it would be if both legs were in full working order, or how much less embarrassing/upsetting it would be if I didn’t have to keep asking for help from people who had more than enough on their plate… but rather to fixate on how wonderful it was to be with family and friends. Not just my US family, whom I don’t see nearly enough of (and especially at a time of loss for all of us) but also my UK family and extended family. No excuses for not seeing enough of them, but I still don’t! Other happy thoughts: the kindness and smiles of strangers, jumping all the theme park queues in my wheelchair, and being anywhere exciting after months spent in my lounge!

My partners in crime – the Florida family

The flamingo is not the only bird. These Sandhill Cranes came to visit our villa every night and early morning

Feeling at home with the flamingos in Seaworld

Keeping the pink and black co-ordination going, despite the heat!

Pink leg in Hogsmeade – a bit cramped in Ollivanders, but lots to look at from outside

Another long-legged bird… this time the wood stork at Gatorland

Yep, I admit it. It was a shark bite. Universal Studios, winner of the pink leg award for letting me go on any ride I fancied…

The flamingo is happy in and near water (thank goodness this cast was OK to swim in!)

#11 Not all casts are created equal

Those of you who know me well, will be well aware of the saga of my many casts. For those who don’t, a brief recap with as much useful information I can give you… culminating in my latest sporty little number. Yes, this is my exciting news. Hopefully not just cast number four, but last cast!

Cast number 1 – plastered

There’s very little I can tell you about the plaster cast, apart from the fact that having it fitted was intensely painful for me. At that point, I’d only just had my first shot of morphine, I’d had a broken leg for hours, and was still trying to tap away the pain. The pain is a much clearer memory than the cast. I wore it for a couple of days, during which time I barely moved, except to transfer to the loo. Best point: not a cheese grater!

Cast number 2 – flamingo

The flamingo was my first cast coming home. Full leg, solid fibreglass, heavy and restrictive. Though after two months, it became almost a part of me. Best points: so solid you can use it as an extra crutch after a while; definite fashion statement. Worst points: weight, washing, and after two months, ooooh the itching!

Cast number 3 – the jointed wonder

Although I pushed and practically begged to have this cast change, it did come with its downsides. For a start, it was incredibly heavy. Plus, the pain in my knee was excruciating. Even as I became more flexible, the stiffness and the discomfort if I stayed in one place for long, was like having a nail hammered into the side of my leg. It did ease, but it took all my energy to stay cheerful at times. But the pluses were also great, particularly both the improved flexibility and the fact my muscles slowly began to return. Best points: flexibility, ability to go in a car, and I could see my knee! Worst points: pain, awkward hair removal, dodgy skin, and more pain!

Cast number 4 – Sporty little number

Finally, the knee-length cast I’ve been wishing for all this time. The story behind this one is slightly odd. I coaxed, hinted, cajoled and blatantly came right out with it, but could I get the registrar to agree to a cast change? I could not. So, I resigned myself to going on holiday in the jointed monstrosity. When, oddly, I got a message last Wednesday telling me to come to the plaster room. And, here I am. Half-casted. Best points: light, easy to manoeuvre, not a cheese grater, slim enough for jeans, and yes, I can see my thigh again! Worst points: itchy, and already falling apart. If anyone knows of a tape that will stick soft fibreglass cast to fabric without irritating skin, do drop me a line.

Three months and counting. Onwards and upwards!

#10 Celebrate! The party gallery

Don’t let the lame leg rain on your parade. It’s amazing how much fun can be had in a wheelchair and/or on crutches (though personally I strongly recommend borrowing a folding wheelchair!) This gallery is a celebration of flamingo partying. Single ladies, don’t despair – a bright pink cast is a great talking point. Sooo many nice men come to talk to you. And to think I was sure this injury would take me off the flirting/dating scene for a bit!

Ascot – taking the new jointed cast on its first proper outing

Coordinated not just with cast but also with friend!

Think pink!

I may wash with my leg in a bag, but I can still look like a lady

And a clashy close-up

Clashtastic!

Every pink-legged princess needs her bodyguard

Flamingo picnic

One of the many lovely men who came to say hello

#9 If you don’t ask, you don’t get

Those of you who know me well will no doubt affirm that I’m a paragon of politeness. Or, at least, I do really, really try to be – generally I think I may be working against my better nature, but aren’t we all? So I’m not particularly good at asking for anything.

Actually, that’s not true. In a work setting, I am great at asking. Or telling. Maybe a bit too vocal on both counts, actually. But like most people, I approach my private life with a slightly more laissez-faire attitude.

Imagine… only needing one chair to sit down. Sigh. But the doctor’s saying four more weeks… or maybe not!

Cast Away

The original ‘you’ll be stuck in the full-length cast for six weeks’ prognosis turned out to be wishful thinking. When I turned up at the hospital 10 days ago, excited and ready to cast off, I was told to come back in four weeks. I was more than a bit disappointed, but having got a reasonable explanation when I probed the registrar, I dusted myself down and crutched off into the sunset.

That was that, until my knowledgeable doctor friend explained that it wasn’t necessarily the only option. I could ask them to reconsider. Which honestly had not occurred to me!

So, following his advice, I made a few phone calls, got through to my consultant’s secretary and wheedled an email address out of her (I’m so much better on paper). Then, I made my case to move into a knee-length cast sooner… please, if at all possible.

Result! I’ve had a reply from him, which offers a fair compromise. The balance is between keeping my lower leg stable (good), and not losing any more muscle, gaining stiffness, and extending my recuperation (bad). I now have permission to graduate to a hinged knee cast brace – not entirely sure what this is going to look like, but I’ve been told it will let me bend my knee, which is all I need to know! Now I just have to keep my fingers crossed I get booked in to the plaster room asap; ideally, before the four weeks are up anyway. Time (and my leg)’s a wastin’!

#7 The best £4.95 I never spent…

As a journalist, you tend to end up with some pretty random freebies – especially as a food writer. Sometimes, I’m flabbergasted at quite how inventive (or random) companies can be in their quest to get us to part with our hard-earned cash. Wrap-N-Mat was one of those items everybody regarded with a certain amount of suspicion when it appeared in the office. The idea was sound: a cloth wrap, lined with food-safe (and PVC-free) plastic, that held a sandwich together well, and converted into a little eating mat to prevent wearing the filling on your trousers. But it wasn’t exactly sexy. And, more to the point, it wasn’t a box of chocolates, a bottle of wine or some really top-notch quinoa…

Being open-minded (or possibly just a scavenger), I retrieved one of these from the table of many freebies, when it had been sitting there so long I felt rather sorry for it. And I used it a few times. Then I stopped eating sandwiches on some bread-free kick for a while, slipped it in a drawer and forgot about it.

A useful sandwich tray, but it complains when you cover it in crumbs…

What a carry on

Sandwiches seemed like such a perfect flamingo food. Portable, easy to make, simple to eat… although not really, when you think about it. Actually, pasta salad travels better in a tupperware than a sandwich, and unless you use a massive box, you end up festooned with crumbs. Pulling off clingfilm – even if I liked using it (which I really don’t) – or tinfoil is tricky enough with two hands… And then you’re adding to the waste disposal requirements, already the toughest job facing the casted lady. So a reusable option was a necessity.

The wrap-n-mat, via Swiss-Miss.com

Inspired by a flash of something or other, I recalled the lurking Wrap-N-Mat. Controlling my vehement dislike of any products with ‘N’ in the title (people, please! What’s wrong with an ampersand if you want to save space?) I dug it out. Genius. You can spread, assemble and wrap, transport with no displacement of filling whatsoever, then lunch on the sofa without having to dig crumbs (or rocket) out from between the cushions. It actually fits in a pocket when going back to the kitchen, and all it takes is a thorough wipe and an air-dry to make it ready to use again.

When I’m back on my feet, this baby is going to be my sandwich toting gadget of choice. How could I have forgotten this little wonder?

http://www.anandafoods.co.uk/re-usable-sandwich-wraps.html

Sadly I can’t remember where mine came from, so I apologise if the company that sent it doesn’t profit from this post. Feel free to link to other retailers in the comments…

http://www.wrapnmat.com/

#6 Bathing is bliss

You should have seen me trying to flannel wash when I was in hospital. Completely inefficient. For a start, I didn’t actually have a flannel. Not in the early days, at any rate. I was provided with a disposable paper towel – less, let’s say, soluble than your usual hand towel, but still, when you come down to it, a piece of paper. Have you ever tried to wash with a piece of paper? Exactly.

My insistence on going it solo meant my paper-based sponge bath also involved issues of balance and effort. With a leg on the bidet, bum balanced on a stool, and a piece of soap that was constantly slipping into the sink, it was slow going. Afterwards, I’m pretty sure I’d just moved the grease around.

Even once furnished by my lovely family with washcloth and shower gel, it was less than satisfactory. I’m not even going to go into washing hair; a totally fruitless endeavour, which I tried only once in the hospital sink before requesting dry shampoo. Note: get dry shampoo. Really. It’s amazing.

Kitted out

Once home, I made do for a little while before daring to take my first bath, using the amazing Limbo my dad had ordered for me in advance. Limbo is basically a glorified plastic bag, with a wet-suit-esque band at the thigh. When I was in the plaster room, I was handed a leaflet outlining this amazing invention, and given my attempts at washing prior to that moment, got straight on the iPhone and asked Daddy to order it for me.

http://www.limboproducts.co.uk/home

Getting it on is really tricky. Actually, removing it is pretty tough too, but it’s well worth the contortions, over-stretching and feeling like an idiot. Once Limbod, you can (theoretically) immerse the cast, although I’ve come up with a reasonably comfortable bathing position whereby my leg is balanced on the edge of the sink. Initially, I needed help – thank you so much those of you who were subjected to me semi-naked during that phase. Now, I’m a bathing pro. Flamingoes love the water, right?

It hasn’t lasted terribly well. After the initial six weeks, the rubber has a little tear in it, possibly because the cast is so abrasive. Why? Why would anyone want a pink cheese-grater for a leg? But it was well worth the price. I’d have paid a tenner per bath, so wonderfully blissful has each dip been.

It takes a rather balletic stretch to get the whole thing in shot

Top bathing tips
DO keep a phone and a bikini within reach – you never know what might happen and imagine the ambulance men taking you out in the nuddy…
DON’T forget your sock. That cast is very, very, very abrasive. Nobody wants a hole in their Limbo
DO use some kind of adhesive duck/pebble/similar in the bottom of the tub. It helps when getting in and out alive!
DON’T run the water too hot. You can still sweat under that cast, and it takes ages to dry out. Icky…

Look, co-ordinated 🙂

And, a close-up of my grey-toed sock

#5 Don’t forget your smartphone

This blog (and my life) would be so much less fun if I hadn’t been able to snap dodgy iPhone shots of every weird and wonderful moment. In fact, when I told a friend today about my grotesque, wasted, famine-victim left leg her first question was: ‘did you take a picture?’ As it happens, no. Long story short, I was having my plaster changed and I was too busy holding up my suddenly defenceless, painful and rather sad-looking limb to get out the phone. Not to mention being grossed out by what I can only describe as knee dandruff. It did, of course, cross my mind, and I’ll make sure when this full-leg cast comes off in a couple of weeks I can get you some snaps in all its flaky, crusty, hairy glory. Now there’s something worth signing up to my blog for, hey? But, once again, I digress.

The other bonus of having a camera handy, is being able to get a swift snap of your x-rays. And, as so many people have asked to see what’s beneath the pink leg, I can hardly disappoint, can I? When I was in hospital I was obsessed with getting a picture of my x-rays, but didn’t manage until x-ray session three. Since then, I’ve hedged my bets. Not only do I coerce the x-ray staff to take a sneaky snap of their screen, but I also take the opportunity for a pic at every fracture clinic. I do have an ulterior motive: a friend who just happens to have exactly the right knowledge base who can tell me how I’m getting along. However, I’ve also found myself getting those pix out in practically any conversation hinging on my leg. Which, no surprise, is most of them. Top value conversation starters!

What a pretty fracture

And another view…

The spangly new cast. Even from this angle, you can see how skinny the leg is getting…