I've an alien in my ribcage. It knows what I eat and when I eat and tells me all about it about an hour after. It bounces around at about 3am, when I want to be asleep and generally makes a total nuisance of itself. It's growing. It used to be a baby alien, kicked my liver a few times then left me alone to get on with my life. Now it's pretty big, kicks my liver, my stomach, and has the most appalling table manners. It grumbles like an alien so, in my book, it must be an alien.
My doctor says it's gallstones.
Believe me when I say that green and orange thing above is familiar to me (let's not get too graphic here, fellow sufferers will know what I mean).
My doctor says it's common for life to get colourful when you have gallstones.
So the alien and I are changing the way we live.
First I invested in a few low fat cook books - Alien likes to make a fuss of fat. One was an Amazon bargain, I think I paid 1p plus postage! The other is the Hairy Dieters cook book, because they make me laugh. And right now I could do with a good laugh from time to time. I have to be honest and say I wasn't initially sure about the book (sorry guys!) but it's grown on me. A bit like the alien. I like the way they've explained why they do something; I can relate to that. It's sure made me buy a lot of spices and get back in the kitchen. I am not so much a hairy dieter as a lazy cook. I'm a good cook, just lazy. If husband wanders out to cook dinner, who am I to stop him? He's more inventive in the kitchen than me, especially as we went veggie a year or so ago (again). But veggies don't eat meat, they eat cheese (well, this one does). And cheese is ................ you've guessed it, FAT! So principles aside, I've gone back to meat, just for now. I'm limiting myself to chicken and beef. I don't like pork, couldn't bring myself to eat a baby sheep, am seriously allergic to fish. Streaky bacon is also off the menu, which brings tears to my eyes (yes I know veggies don't eat bacon, I was a baconetarian!) And a bit of goats cheese so that the goats cheese producers don't feel a downturn in their economy.
My doctor says I need to lose a bit of weight (he's being polite). We've settled on kilos, he understand them, I don't. He's fixated with BMI, which I thought was a private health company. But no fat, no sugar ('you're heading towards type 2 diabetes as well') and very slowly the weight is coming off. And since Tesco decided to put up petrol what seems like 1p a litre per day I now walk more often. Except to work, that's 14 miles, let's not be silly here. Or to the petrol station to put petrol in the car for work - even I can see the sense of driving the car to Tesco for that.
Doc did kindly say I could meet a surgeon, and I'm off to meet him next Friday with a view to him making 4 small incisions in my stomach to release the alien - sort of somewhere between Ghost Busters and a nice piece of steak - only without the garlic slithers I presume. I don't know I am to meet and this is the NHS so it will be like speed dating - come in, sit down, 5 minutes, next please.
Being a slave to my art, I'm hoping Alien and I don't part before my last craft fair of the year on 15 December. But then, 3am and I'd be happy to get rid of Alien by 3.15am - wonder if there are downloadable instructions for cholecystectomy on the web? Those kitchen knives I got from Tesco's recent offer are quite sharp although husband isn't too good at DIY.
Alien and I are enjoying the cook books. He quite likes cr*p TV at 3am as well; he wakes me up to watch it so the only thing left to do is wander around the lounge placating him with the TV on - I can't rub my side, wince and hold my Kindle all at the same time. It's a bit like having a grouchy baby - only I've never had a grouchy baby. Or any baby come to that. If it can't be tumble dried or wash it's own bottom from day one then we don't have it. Our 2 cats know my limitations.
So I intend to 'vent my spleen' or should that be gall bladder on my blog and throw in a few recipes along the way. Applying all I've learnt on this journey. I've a very nice beef stifado in the oven right now. I call it skinny beef stifado as I had to dissect a few recipes I found on line to make one Alien liked, throw out all the fat I could and cook it nearly to death as I don't really like the taste of beef unless it's falling to pieces in a thick tasty gravy.
So watch this space. Pull up your computer chair, settle down the mad ramblings of a gall bladder sufferer and, as the song says, 'let me entertain you'.
Tomorrow ... skinny beef stifado - or 'I've got a
bun casserole in the oven!'