A Parallel Universe and Elisabeth Hasselbeck

One morning in 2007, I am hunched over my kitchen counter trying to wake up with that first amazing sip of coffee.  As I focus, I see The Denver Post Food Section spread out in front of me and think, “When did we started getting the newspaper?”  On most days, I’d be busy fixing breakfast for the kids and scrambling to get everyone ready for the day, but the house is oddly quiet this morning.  No one is awake.  So, I start reading what’s in front of me.

I’m skimming at first but then I’m drawn in by the author who is clearly writing this piece about me – the detail about her suffering, her parents, her childhood, her health and her desperation.  “I would tell my parents that I felt like I had shards of glass in my stomach after I ate,” she wrote. Yes, yes, that’s the only way to describe the pain. “They would tell me that it was just an excuse to get out of cleaning the dishes.”  Unbelievable, I think, and keep reading. “The stomach pains and the other gastrointestinal issues made it impossible to enjoy so many of life’s most memorable events: my prom, my college graduation, my wedding,” she wrote.  “What was worse was that I felt like I was all alone.  No one understood or seemed to care.”  I’m mesmerized.  “Apparently, it was in my head.  It was stress.  It was anxiety.  I was melodramatic.”

I am incredulous.  I must be in some sort of parallel universe.  This poor woman is living my life – a life that I learned to adapt to in order to survive.  Hide the pain, hide the problem, muscle through, move on.  But hiding the problem was killing her.  After years of avoiding food and ignoring her symptoms, she was developing other problems that were not so easy to hide.  In the beginning of the article, the author is in intensive care being treated for a series of autoimmune issues with an inconclusive diagnosis of Lymphoma looming overhead.  Like me, along with the stomach problems that had been long written off as stress, she was riddled with swollen lymph nodes, she was constantly fighting fatigue, her eyesight was failing, her memory was faulty, she was always sick, her hair was falling out, and she was scratching her hands until they were raw.

This is the food section and the writer is describing why food is killing her – literally.  “I understand you. This is my world too,” I actually say out loud to the empty kitchen.  Like the writer, food has always been associated with pain and suffering. It has never been a comfort.  In the paragraphs to follow, I learn that the true culprit is not food, but gluten-based food.  By the end of the article, the mystery is solved as the author is diagnosed with Celiac Disease.  As I close the newspaper and head upstairs to the first sounds of waking children, I know why I was destined to read that one heartbreaking article. It was set before me to change my life.  I am completely gluten-free now.  I miss NJ bagels and sloppy boardwalk pizza and buttered diner muffins, but I don’t miss the feeling of despair and dread.

Fast forward to February 2011.  I’m reading an issue of Runner’s World and have turned to the back to read the column entitled, “I’m a Runner” that profiles a famous person who is also a runner.  This issue, the spotlight is on Elisabeth Hasselbeck – co-host of The View – whom I’ve never really even heard about.  According to the article, she’s a runner. Clearly. She’s a mom of three.  Wow.  She’s a Celiac. What?! She only runs in a skirt. Unbelievable!  She has her own clothing line. Now I’m spinning.  Could this be another fateful article destined to change my life?  I can see the headlines now, “Hasselbeck and RunningPretty – Making Strides in Women’s Sports and Fashion.”  Sometimes, we can all use a little bit of divine intervention.  I’ve learned to start paying attention.