Did I tell you I went to see a mesologist? No? Probably not. (Actually I’m not sure that’s the correct English word, but I can’t find a translation).
Few people reading this, will have the faintest idea what a mesologist is. I had no idea until I rolled up there. Actually, I slid there. In the snow. But I digress. (Again).
A friend recommended the therapist to me because like me, her luck (and patience) was being tested by conventional medicine.
The basic idea of mesology (as far as I can fathom) is that the therapist looks at the whole of you. Not only at all of the symptoms you experience. But they ask about all of your life experiences too, especially the negative ones. Each childhood illness you have suffered. Whether you wore a brace. If you have had an operation. About bereavement, divorce and other traumas. Where you’ve been on holiday. What medicines you ingest. Which teeth have been extracted. And so on and so forth.
Then they ‘measure’ different levels in your body, including organ function, vitamin and mineral levels and toxins in your system.
The assessment thus begins with a four-page-questionnaire, continues with a detailed interview and culminates in testing with some kind of electric acupuncture measuring machine.
My initial assessment took 90 minutes. And the result?
Apart from lacking in certain minerals, and having too much of certain toxins in my body, the very nice therapist also informed me that I had several severe food intolerances.
I cannot express to you how much I love food. Food is one of the most brilliant things in my life. After my family, writing and presents, obviously. Food is the main reason for clambering out of bed in the morning. Apart from the hunger factor. I love food. I love cooking it. Buying it. Eating it. Experimenting with it. Watching it on the telly. Trying new types of it. Eating it in restaurants.
You could even describe me as somewhat obsessed with it.
I left the mesologist with a sad face and a tragic piece of paper declaring severe lactose intolerance. Even severe-er nut intolerance. No wholemeal products. No milk. No butter. No buttermilk. No nuts. No oats. No yoghurt. No goats products. And to be careful with fruit.
On the bright side the paper also stated that I can eat sheep products and can cope well with oil.
And she did say I could eat chocolate in very small doses!?!
So, I spent the afternoon in a local supermarket buying up all possible lactose free alternatives and emptying all of the sheep cheeses into my trolley.
After his hard days work my husband returned home. Saw my distressed face and proceeded to hit another supermarket in the vicinity for all sheep and lactose free products.
If reader, you work in the stock market, that’s the reason ‘nöm L-free co.’s’ shares rose sharply three weeks ago. It’s also the reason farmers in Germany have started whipping sheep (in a bid to make them produce more milk).
After a week of, I believe, no lactose ingestion, I headed to a lovely local restaurant with my daughter and had the most delicious meal. I then headed home and regurgitated the said meal in a talented simultaneous ‘coming out of both ends’ fashion. To top that, I added a bit of red colour. OK blood.
So, back to the conventional doctor again who has, in his wisdom, decided, that the inside of me should be photographed and added to his collection.
As of yesterday, I can no longer eat any seeded bread, any seeded fruit, and er… just looking at the list that includes cucumber, and er… I just ate that for lunch. Today. Shit!
Moving swiftly on.
And as of tomorrow, I can no longer eat peppers, spinach, mushrooms, or any type of salad.
So, in planning my rest of the weeks menu I seem to have only been left with the options of oil and chocolate. Though the latter in small amounts.
Tomorrow morning then, I’ll take a sharp knife and start hacking up that 1kg bar of chocolate (the one hiding presently in the cupboard) into small bits.
Then spend the remainder of the day popping a square in my mouth every few minutes, then washing it down with a slug of olive oil.
Hey, perhaps the oil will help the cucumber seeds ‘slip out’ quickly during the necessary laxative fuelled flush that will take place on Thursday. (And I can hide my little error?)