By Andrea Scarpino
Tis the Season—
for indulgence, for batches and batches of cookies, fruit pies, for casseroles, cream-filled drinks, plates of meat, for holiday dinners, holiday parties, marathon holiday cooking sessions.
And I am a vegan trying to avoid sugar and grains.
My diet is the only thing that has quelled twenty-five years of pain—pain that began when I was 10 years old with Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy, that continued even after my RSD was cured as crippling breast pain and an encyclopedia of hormonal problems otherwise unspecified. Since I was 10 years old, I’ve struggled with pain, seen specialists in six states, tried a litany of treatment protocols, exhausted every one. And then, desperate, speaking with specialists about mastectomy—removal of my breasts to remove the site of my constant pain, what seemed my only option—I came across Kris Carr.
February. A week at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. Test after test came back negative—all hormones within normal range—and yet, I was suffering through three months of daily, crippling pain in my breasts. I cried in my hotel room each night, discouraged, frustrated, overwhelmed. Midway through the week, sitting on the carpeted floor of the Barnes and Noble across from my hotel, I picked through stacks and stacks of health-related books. And there were Kris Carr’s: Crazy Sexy Diet, Crazy Sexy Cancer Survivor. A woman with dozens of cancerous tumors in her liver and lungs advocating going vegan, drinking green vegetable juices, meditating.
The last day at the Mayo Clinic, the physician coordinating my visit with the breast center, gynecology, pain medicine, and internal medicine said, “We don’t know what’s going on.” The best of medicine: “We really don’t understand hormones.” I walked straight to the bookstore and bought Crazy Sexy Diet.
Thanksgiving week: eight months without pain, the longest I have been continuously pain-free since my breast pain began, and even further back, since RSD. No meat, no dairy, no sugar, no grain: no pain. A plethora of vegetables: bright salads, freshly pressed green juices, nuts and seeds. Eight months without pain, longer than with any other treatment protocol. More than the Mayo Clinic offered.
But here I am, in the midst of holiday eating season, struggling with how to celebrate with friends without compromising my newly found health. I’m used to telling dinner party hosts that I’m vegetarian or vegan—but to add that I don’t eat sugar or grains? And I was raised to be gracious to a fault, never inconvenience anyone, never cause a fuss (My mother’s mantra: “No fuss”).
For comparison: when I was a teenager, my mother bought a new puppy that she took everywhere. One afternoon when we returned to the car after a quick shopping trip, we found her dog had pooped in the car, stepped in his poop, and tracked it all over everything: the car seats, the dashboard, every window. The entire inside of the car was covered in dog poop. My mother quickly assessed the situation—and told me to get in the car.
“Don’t make a fuss,” she said. I told her I would run back to the store and ask for paper towels.
“Don’t make a fuss,” she repeated, steely eyed. “Get. In. The. Car.”
And I did. And we drove home in silence, sitting on dog poop. Windows down.
So here I am in the midst of holiday eating season, struggling with making a fuss, with how much to request of dinner hosts, struggling with how much food to bring before I’m seen as rude—one vegetable-based dish is a kind contribution, but three? And what if I only eat what I’ve brought? And how do I explain my dietary needs? I’m a vegan with diabetes and Celiac Disease?
The truth, as best as I can parse it: my decades of debilitating breast pain and menstrual issues was caused by a combination of genes and diet, a possible genetic predisposition to pain combined with fluctuating menstrual hormones and insulin spikes from high-carbohydrate foods like bread and sugar. And add to the equation the chemical overload of our environment. Maybe. Who knows? Certainly not the dozens of specialists I’ve seen.
The truth, as best as I can parse it: eating mostly vegetables has changed my health, my life, my daily experience on this planet. Thanks to Kris Carr’s book, to dramatically changing my diet, I’ve had eight months without pain. And I don’t want to go back. Which means I have to figure out ways to survive this season, to spend time with people I love without feeling like an inconvenience, to advocate for my needs without causing a fuss. And maybe to introduce some veggie-based dishes to those I love. Because eating mostly vegetables is absolutely delicious.
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Planet of the Blind 