Making Peace With Food When You Have Chronic Pancreatitis
We were sitting around the table of a newly opened Thai restaurant. Eight friends getting together to catch up on our lives in the weeks since we’d last seen each other.
Three bites into my dinner I had to excuse myself. Trying not to run, trying not to bend over as I made my way to the restroom, I did everything I could to look “normal.” I was praying I’d find a women’s bathroom with a lock on it so I didn’t have to embarrass myself by having someone see me lying on the bathroom floor in front of the toilet while the overwhelming pain, nausea, vomiting and need to empty my bowels consumed me for the next hour or more.
Dignity is often a casualty of serious illness. It was the tail end of 2005, and I’d been dealing with strange symptoms for months — sometimes vague and transient, sometimes a full on assault that left me physically and emotionally spent.
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