The Bridget Jones of dieting and yam-yams.

8 days. 8 days of antibiotics and 8 days of eating clean. Supposedly.

I’m happy to say that I have only missed one dose of my antibiotics. Not happy because I’m intoxicating my lovely gut with these drugs and a missed dose means a health break for my insides. No, happy that with the chaos of moving out, I have managed to remember to take them so often. It helps that Mr B is on board and I get the odd gentle reminder to get my ass of the sofa at night and take them. If I’m going to trial this antibiotics thing, I’ve got to do it 100% otherwise, what is the point?

My update on the antibiotics…well, I have still got the unmentionable going on in (and then swiftly out of) my stomach, although it is only happening once a day, so it’s bearable.  I have no gouty symptoms anymore, but what I do have is overwhelming tiredness. Like the type you get when having a flare (or a hangover). Just ridiculous I’m-gonna-lie-down-right-here-on-the-tiles type tiredness. Tiredness that makes my fuse reaaaaally short. The same as when you’re horomonal. That kind of tiredness. I’m hoping it’s yet another one of those symptoms that will gradually fade away, but until then I am having to be extra kind to myself, in order to achieve anything. Otherwise my Inner Perfectionist (she lives on the opposite side to my Inner Hypochondriac) keeps getting really cross that I am not getting my chores done, efficiently or at done all in some cases. I’m ignoring her and the Hypochondriac. Let them battle it out together. I’m just too tired to listen to either of them.

A new side-effect is yam-yams. This term may not be a familiar term to you, but you’ll see it makes true, onomatopoeic sense. Have you ever had a dry mouth from surgery, or from taking medication? When you are so dehydrated , your mouth feels like the inside of Ghandi’s flip-flop, in the desert, after he’s walked a few hundred miles? Well, yam-yams is the sound your mouth makes when you try to rehydrate it without actually drinking. When you suck your tongue and open and shut your mouth. Yam, yam, yam. This is what I have. Constantly. Despite drinking a fish pond of fluids daily. Still, I won’t die (really, Inner Hypochondriac, I really won’t.)

Then there’s my diet. Hmmm. I am mostly doing good. Lots of beautiful meals, but little creativity going on. Roast chicken or pork. Roasted vegetables. Pan-fried fish. Sautéed courgettes, garlic and onions. Roasted sweet potatoes. In cubes. In wedges. In bigger chunks. Lots of smooth coconut oil, lavished all over everything I cook. Lots of raw coconut. Tinned fish. Sauerkraut. No grains, bread, pasta, sweets, processed food.  Ok, no processed foods apart from two or three. Dried apricots and wine. And a little cheese. I had one glass of beautiful, high-quality, red wine at a Wine and Cheese party Saturday night. You would think that I would have learnt my lesson after nearly dying the day before of all the side effects of my meds; instead I ignored the potential cirrhosis of the liver and sipped a lovely glass of Burgundy.

I am Bridget Jones. Of the diet world. I make poor choices, repeatedly.

To be fair, the wine didn’t cause me to flare, neither did the raw milk cheese, called Langres (delicious by the way and from a beautiful little Fromagerie, where 95% of their stock is cheese made from raw milk). Maybe this lulled me into a false sense of security.Then came the dried apricots….

Yesterday, I was baking for Ty’s school fair. My Sugar Dragon was mocking me, as it always does when I’m baking. How tough is it to wash your hands every time a bit of chocolate or cake mix touches your fingers? To put the dark chocolate-smeared spoon straight in the dishwasher, fighting every instinct to put it in your mouth?? So, I caved and had a few apricots. No big deal, I thought, I’m on killer antibiotics, so it should be all right…

WRONG! The apricots have the highest fructose content of anything in the house (apart from the dried figs – thank goodness I didn’t see those!). Fructose and anything high sugar causes me to flare. In fact there is so much fructose in those little, seemingly harmless, gooey balls of organic, dried fruit, that I would probably have been better off licking the dark chocolate off the spoon.

So, take antibiotics if you want. Or don’t, it really is an individual choice that may even change over time. However, if you are going to make one personal choice that helps you to heal, try to cut out the sugar. It does seem that sugar, along with heat and humidity, really does affect so many people’s Hidradenitis Suppurativa. It is not that easy, especially if you live with others who happen to exist in a world where school fairs demand cakes. Especially if you continue to feed your inner Sugar Dragon, instead of slaying it. But it is definitely worth it in the end.

Today’s conclusion. An autoimmune protocol diet (with no added sugar) definitely works and hopefully Bridget Jones will learn to accept this very soon.

Day 8 and the jury is still out on the antibiotics. Now, where did I put my pint of water? Yam, yam, yam……

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Diet? What diet??

I am broken.

My holiday is finished and my HS is having the time of its life. For those of you who are using diet to control your HS – well done. Stick with it – it really does work. I have eaten potatoes, crisps, sugary desserts; I have drunk many different types of alcohol – one too many cocktails. I have eaten bread, had gravy and just thrown caution to the wind. I’m paying for it now.

I was definitely allowed the mackerel, rocket and the flowers. Don’t ask about the rest…

Whilst away, I didn’t get my usual 8 hours sleep as Nina woke up every morning between 6:00 and 7:00. I didn’t stick to my diet. I lived on painkillers. I spent lots of time with friends and family. I had an amazing time.

Strawberries are Paleo, right?

I must admit that I’m feeling pretty rough right now, though. Not only are there post-holiday blues to contend with, but I am almost back to where I started diet-wise. I have a lot of admiration for those who can stick to the diet whilst away.

I definitely wasn’t the one laughing last….

Perhaps if I hadn’t had so many different things planned and so many dinners out, I could have made more of a concerted effort to eat better. Perhaps not. Perhaps I’m just not ready to admit that I can control this disease, by limiting the foods I eat. Although it is apparent, now more than ever, that my HS is definitely affected by my food intake. I did learn that it seemed to be at its worst when I had a combination of gluten and sugar. The occasional glass of good wine didn’t affect me too badly before, but a combination of apple crumble and rum cocktails induced a major flare.

It’s probably a good time to mention that I have been on the homeopathic treatment, Serocytol, for three months. I have been taking a combination of four different drops: SRE, Neuro-vasculaire, Malphigien and Emonctoires. I started taking them the week after I started the AI protocol diet, so when my symptoms improved, I was not sure if the Serocytol had had an effect. However, after the last couple of weeks of free-eating, and the return of the bad-boy flares, I am 100% sure that they haven’t worked for me. I should go back to the homeopath and try something new. I really should. Soon. Not now, but soon.

So, its back to reality. Now, if I could just find where I left my motivation before I went on holiday…..

Home sweet home.

We’re home!

I made it through and did not run out of salad, nor starve. I had a lovely time, although I did spend an inordinate amount of it preparing salad for seven people every meal!

Serving up my famous roasted sweet potatoes, grated ginger, cumin and garlic…

I did cheat a little, but I didn’t suffer too badly. I definitely felt the effects of having some wine and cheese, with the inflammation getting quite bad towards the end. Everybody was super accommodating and I really didn’t feel like my diet had too much of an impact on anyone else, which was a relief.

A little reading break at the Beach Library…
Definitely not wearing my bikini in this one!

The weather was crappy and the boys only got to surf a few times. It was so cold, that there were no bikini moments – another thing I was dreading! I had bought a lovely pair of bikini surf style, short shorts for the occasion, so that I could wear bikini bottoms underneath with all my dressings, too. I know when the time comes, I’ll still be paranoid about wearing a tight fitting pair of shorts. C’est la vie!

When everyone had ice cream, Nina and I had sorbet, which was delicious. I really savoured those junk food moments, knowing that it would all have to be very worth it for the consequences that would follow!

We had to have the apartment clean, sheets laundered and be out by 10 am Sunday morning, so thought it would be easier to clean up Saturday and spend the last night at our place – just an hour’s drive from the apartment and on the way home for the others. We packed up, cleaned up and Mr B and I headed home with the bubba, whilst Ty and the others spent a few hours at the lake.

Our holiday roomie, Elliot – what a beauty!

We got a BBQ on the go and finished up with plenty of good wine. A plus for me was that I had everything unpacked, put away, washing on and all back to normal by Saturday evening – a day earlier than expected.

Back in the tiny kitchen, marinating the pork chops for the Barbie.

So overall, it went well. I had to resort to painkillers by the end of the week, but only in the evening before bed. I had one incident of a little stomach distress, after treating myself to some 85% Lindt chocolate. Another downside to avoiding certain foods, is that your body quickly develops an all round intolerance to them. From having an iron stomach for my whole life, I am now lactose intolerant. I did eat nearly the whole bar of chocolate, so perhaps I went just a little overboard…

Now I must prepare for my little trip to UK.  I fly out Tuesday with the wee one, so I need to get myself ready for holiday part deux….

All images © 2013 Leila Bodros. Not to be used, copied or redistributed without express permission from Leila Bodros.