Michael's Meanderings

Halia's Healthy Appetite.

2009-12-30T00:15:00.003-08:00

Halia's a big eater. After Christmas dinner when we were all stuffed, she snuck over to the table with the plate of goose meat on it and stealthily nabbed a wing. Then she went to town on it.

"I'm a carnivore! RAWRRRRR!"

"Nom, nom, nom."

"Mmmm! f'good! Nom, nom, nom!

"Now to crack me some marrow!"

I'm so proud.

Ridiculously cute...

2009-12-29T23:56:00.000-08:00

...wouldn't you agree?

Oh! The Ho-Ho-Horror!

2009-12-25T00:21:00.004-08:00

As if that last entry wasn't enough, here's something else that'll make you think twice about Santa's "nice guy" facade...

(I am sooo getting a lump of coal in my stocking.)

The Ho-Ho-Holy War.

2009-12-24T23:26:00.005-08:00

I mean, c'mon! Of course Santa is involved! The guy has a beard, a funny hat, and lives in a secret hideout with a dedicated bunch of helpers who do all of his dirty work!

(click to enlarge)

Christmas Eve.

2009-12-24T22:16:00.000-08:00

Children nestled, all snug in their beds? Check.
Reindeer carrots and Santa's cookies eaten? Check.
Santa's milk drunk? Check.
Presents decoratively scattered 'round the base of the tree? Check.
Stockings all stuffed near the chimney with care? Check.
Favourite Christmas album playing in the background? Check.
Watching the lights of the Christmas tree whilst relaxing on the couch with my wife and a hot mug of peppermint tea? Check.

Ready for Christmas Day?

You bet.

Villainous Vittles! - Round 1

2009-12-24T13:15:00.002-08:00

Welcome to Round 1 of Villainous Vittles!, the great new game where you get to guess which foods I'm supposed to avoid!

The rules are simple. I'll list five foods and you guess the one that I need to avoid. Leave your entry in the comment section below, but remember to include a way that you can be identified! "Anonymous" is not allowed to win. You can guess only once per round. With each correct guess, you get one point that will be allocated to your final score. The highest score wins!

Get your entry in by midnight, December 31^st.

This week's theme is animals.

Chicken
Beef
Pork
Fish
Clams

Good luck!

Villainous Vittles - A great new game!

2009-12-23T14:31:00.002-08:00

I have what you might call an "adventurous palate". I'll try anything once - no matter how obscure or unusual - and I'll almost always like it.

I like food. No, I love food.

So it was a real shock to me when I got the results of my food allergy testing back. If you really don't want to read a blog entry about someone's health, stop right now and skip to "Villainous Vittles" near the bottom.

If you're curious, read on...

The allergy results are displayed using a bar graph format. The fat black bars start from "Low" and can go up to "Moderate" and "Avoid". The "Moderate" and "Avoid" categories have a big "NOT SAFE" above them. Even the doctor was shocked by how much black there was on my results. I guess that's what happens when you don't recognize years of intestinal distress: You get a leaky gut and it lets all sorts of things through to the bloodstream. The body makes a bunch of little soldiers called immunoglobulins to fend off the invaders. When you build up too many soldiers, you get an allergic reaction. The reaction can vary, depending on who you are and how your body responds.

The good news is that I can reduce the number of soldiers by reducing the number of invaders. That means healing my intestine and abstaining from the foods that get through the system.

And, for me, that means abstaining from a lot of foods. Delicious, good-smelling, tasty, wonderful foods. It's especially hard during the Christmas season. It's going to be especially hard when I have to travel for work.

Abstaining takes a lot of will power, but that's not something I'm worried about. I've got that.

Abstaining is made a little easier by not looking at what I can't have, but what I'm getting back - and at what I've gained. Since I've made the shift, I've felt a lot better. I'm happier. The patience that I had lost is back. I'm sleeping better. My head feels clearer.

Also, I've become more adventurous in my diet. Yes, more adventurous. Nearly every meal involves the invention of a new recipe using "safe" foods. Some of the meals have been stunningly delicious. I never would have tried them if I hadn't been "forced" to.

One day, if I do a good job healing my digestive system, I'll be able to go back to eating the foods I currently have to avoid. I look forward to that day.

Who wants to be "that weird guy with the food issues"?

Not me. I want to be the guy who can eat anything.

Wish me luck!

Announcing Villainous Vittles!
Now, you may be wondering what foods I need to avoid (and even if you're not, keep reading). Well, I'm not just going to tell you. Instead, in true Michael's Meanderings fashion, I am going to drag things out and have a little fun with this. That's why I'm pleased to announce the great new game, "Villainous Vittles"!

Every week, until announce the end of the game, I will post an entry with five food items. Out of the five, you get to guess which food I need to avoid. Leave a comment in that entry with your guess (making sure that you leave your name, of course. Anonymous is not eligible to win.). One point is awarded for each correct guess (You get one guess per round, of course). At the end of the game, all of the points will be tallied. The winner(s) will be given a yet-to-be-determined food-related prize.

The first round of Villainous Vittles begins tomorrow. Good luck!

The Interloper Ties for Second (Twice)

2009-12-22T21:21:00.000-08:00

As a Yukon-based blogger with NWT roots, I tend to get back to my old stomping grounds from time-to-time. As luck would have it, this made me eligible for two categories in the Best NWT Blogs competition: Best Post and Best Post About the NWT.

In the Best Post About the NWT category, I tied for second. In the Best Post category, I tied for second - with two other people!

Those crazy NWTers. It sure was nice of them to include me. I attribute it to that good ol' Northern hospitality.

Halia: Masterful Mini Communicator

2009-12-19T15:24:00.000-08:00

Halia, thirteen-months-old, is becoming quite the communicator. She's signing and saying "Boom!" and "Uh-oh!" and is attempting a few other words. What amazes me the most, though, is how interested she is in potty training herself.

She walked over to the potty and lifted the lid up and down while looking at me. I figured, maybe she wants to go to the potty? so I helped her out.

Not two seconds after she sat down, she started peeing.

Wow. Is it too soon to hope that potty training could be so easy this time?

Devolvoing.

2009-12-18T15:50:00.000-08:00

It was cute at first, but it was starting to drive me a little bonkers. How long could it possibly go on?

"Jade, could you please come upstairs?"

"I'm not Jade. I'm a baby monkey!"

"Jade Monkey, could you please come upstairs?"

"Not Jade Monkey. I'm a baby monkey!"

"Baby Monkey, could you please come upstairs?

"OK, Papa Monkey!"

It was "monkey" this and "monkey" that for nearly a month. The above conversation happened dozens of times every day. I was not allowed to address my child by her birth name, but I persisted. I was getting worried that she would want her name legally changed to "Baby Monkey". Then, I was worried that I would have to get my name legally changed to "Papa Monkey".

Fortunately, the "baby monkey" era has come to an end. There is no more monkeying around.

We have devolved.

Now, Jade is a baby bird. I am a papa bird. Fawn is a mama bird. Halia is a baby bird. When we sit down, we "perch". When we go to bed, we are getting into our "nests".

It's cute. But how much longer will it last?

And what's next?

Dinosaurs?

Fish?

Zooplankton?

Amoebas?

I can't help but worry that we're headed in the wrong direction here...

A Christmas Gift to You (from my talented wife).

2009-12-18T15:31:00.000-08:00

I love having a talented wife. It's great hearing her sing as she moves about the house. It's wonderful watching her capture an entire audience's attention when she sings in public. I enjoy listening to her fiddle at the keyboard when she gets a few moments to herself to compose a new song.

It's not as much fun when she corrals me to be her "recording engineer" and the first recording gets lost because a computer program crashes, necessitating a re-recording and me staying up waaaay past my bedtime to get everything ready so she can post the song to her blog that very night (because it can't possibly wait another day). But I love her, so I sacrifice a few hours of sweet, precious sleep.

It's all worth it though. And it's very nice to have a new Christmas song to listen to. Check it out and I think you'll agree.

If you like it, drop by Fawnahareo's Place and let her know!

Happy Holidays!

Well, how about THIS then!

2009-12-16T20:47:00.000-08:00

There are some great northern Canadian blogs out there. If you want to find blogs from Nunavut, go to Nunavut Blogs! If you want to find blogs from the NWT, go to NWT Blogs. If you want to find blogs from the Yukon, check out UrbanYukon.

The northern blogging community is diverse, and no time of the year demonstrates that more than Blog Contest Season. The Canadian Blogging Awards are well under way (Vote for Fawnahareo's Place for Best Family Blog!) but Nunavut gets in on the action with it's own contest called "The Nunies". The NWT has the Best NWT Blogs competition.

One of the great things about the Best NWT Blogs competition is that there are so many great categories - and I'm eligible for two of them! In fact, I have been nominated (by none other than yours truly) in the Best Post and Best NWT story categories.

Even if you don't VOTE FOR MICHAEL'S MEANDERINGS (and let's face it, why wouldn't you), you won't be disappointed by my competition. As I said at the beginning, there are some great northern Canadian blogs out there.

A great new game: Spot the Politician!

2009-12-14T13:46:00.000-08:00

The Yukon's Member of Parliament, Larry Bagnell, is legendary for somehow being in a million places at once. I've lost track of the number of times I've seen him get off the plane only to have someone perplexidely ask him how he was getting off the plane when they just saw him downtown.

Perhaps he has a twin? Nah. I am beginning to suspect that Larry is a friendly wizard with magical teleportation powers.

It would appear that President Obama has the same magical powers. The guy's everywhere. Why, just this morning I read the Globe and Mail online and discovered that he was involved with an agreement between the Province of Ontario, Kitchenuhmaykoosib Inninuwug First Nation, and Platinex, Inc.

Remarkable! No wonder the guy won a Nobel Peace Prize.

As seen on globeandmail.com. The picture has since been removed.

Where have you spotted your politicians lately?

Canadian Blog Awards - Round 2!

2009-12-14T02:02:00.001-08:00

Soooo close! I came soooo close to making the top 10 in the Best Personal Blog category of the Canadian Blog Awards. If the process was based on a one-vote basis, I would have been in, but they're using a sort of "proportional representation" system and I was booted out when all of the "second- and third-place" votes were tallied.

I'm not crying. The pressure is off and I think it was a pretty impressive showing considering that there were nearly fifty other entrants and that I didn't know that you could vote every day.

The pressure is on for Fawn, though! She made it to the next round in the Best Family Blog category! This is the category she won 3^rd Place in last year. Can she retain her position - or even take first?!? I know that I'll be voting for her every day and I hope you will too!

(I'll also be voting for Scientific Chick in the Best Science and Technology Blog category. She is, in my humble opinion, the best Science "columnist" out there!)

Happy voting!

The Family Portrait

2009-12-13T22:11:00.002-08:00

We finally had a family portrait done. This photo was taken in from of Sam McGee's cabin by Leslie Leong, now of Whitehorse and formerly of Inuvik. Check out her stuff!

The teenager in training...

2009-12-06T12:26:00.000-08:00

When Fawn left for a rehearsal this morning, both girls had total breakdowns. Halia got over hers quickly, but Jade kept sobbing. I don't think they do this when I go out. I like to think it's because they're used to it, not because they love their mother so much more than me. Let's face it though, Mom is the SUPREME BENEVOLENT RULER OF THE UNIVERSE and Dad is only Mom's Second-in-Command. Biden to their Obama. Prince Charles to their Queen Elizabeth II. Jimmy Olsen to their Superman. Sonny to their Cher. Patrick to their Spongebob.

I attempted to soothe the sobbing Jade but without success. Halia, dissatisfied with the amount of attention that her sister was getting, flung herself from the rocking horse and began to bawl. What ensued was a sisterly competition of sobbing and wailing and pushing and shoving in a battle to attain 100% of all soothing parental hugs.

It was at that point, with both seemingly-unconsolable children on my lap, screeching and wrestling for my attention, that I had an epiphany.

When we were younger, my brother and I got along just fine - until my Mum entered the room. I don't know what it was, but the second my Mum appeared, we started fighting.

I stood up, brushing both barnacles off me as I rose, declared, "ENOUGH!", put some Ella Fitzgerald on the stereo, and marched out of the room. Neither kid followed. Ten seconds later (literally!), they were both playing together, reading books, sharing with each other, and giggling like mad.

Later, Halia came to me for some food. With the living room to herself, Jade put some music into the CD player. It was Sandra Boynton's song, "Tantrum", as performed by the Spin Doctors.

If you've never heard it before, "Tantrum" is like Rock 'n' Roll for toddlers. It preaches tantrum-like down-with-the-man behaviour. She started singing along. And she kept playing it over and over and over, again and again and again.

Mere moments ago I was dealing with normal little kid behaviour. Now, things were becoming decidedly teenager-ish.

I had a moment of panic. Too soon! Too soon!

Then, she asked me to come camping with her in the living room in a tent that was made by draping a blanket over our heads.

And all was right with the world again.

Oh, and if you're still wondering what "Tantrum" sounds like, check out this video. This kid is destined to become the next Internet dancing sensation.

Bits of flying sandwiches?

2009-12-05T16:08:00.001-08:00

Poor Robert. He traveled all the way from Fort Liard to Whitehorse to compete in a hand games tournament - but the event got rescheduled after he arrived.

I took him back to the bus depot on Friday. Before the Greyhound arrived, we walked over to the grocery store so he could stock up on food for the trip. On our way there, we noticed this:

Now, if I ate at Quiznos (or worked there), I would be concerned about this. Is that guy in the picture sneezing sandwich chunks everywhere? Or is he projectile vomiting? Either way, having a gigantic "DON'T BE SICK" advertisement in such close proximity to a restaurant is disconcerting.

Christmas Cheer! Already!

2009-12-03T12:24:00.001-08:00

My sister posted the annual Christmas picture of my nieces and nephew today.

It's good to see that at least one of the kids is freaked out by Santa Claus, thereby maintaining a wonderful, magical Christmas tradition.

Best Personal Blog? Moi?!

2009-12-03T11:54:00.000-08:00

Michael's Meanderings has been nominated in the Best Personal Blog category at the Canadian Blog Awards?

Cool!

(While you're there, cast a vote for Clare at The House and Other Arctic Musings and Megan at Reflections in the Snow-Covered Hills.

Clare also has a couple of great lists featuring northern bloggers who have been nominated in various CBA categories)

My abnormal kid.

2009-12-02T23:24:00.000-08:00

I never wanted a normal kid. Even before I had kids I knew that I wanted my kids to be different. To be their own persons. To not care about what all the other kids do, but to know what they like and to do what's important to them.

I wanted to be able to celebrate all the ways that my children were unique from all those other kids out there. I wanted to celebrate all the things that made them extra-special.

Then, one shocking morning, our normal kid, Jade, became a kid who wasn't normal anymore. She started having so many seizures that she became very, very different from all the other kids. She drooled. She couldn't communicate well. Her parents always hovered inches away. She started wearing a padded helmet.

It wasn't the kind of "not normal" I wanted for my kid. I began wishing and hoping and praying that my child could be normal again.

My child still isn't normal, but we're making progress. With every step towards normalcy, I get to celebrate.

The other night, Fawn tried to compliment Jade.

"Jade, you're a super-star!"

"No! I'm a baby monkey!"

"Then you're a super-star baby money!"

"No! Not a super-star! I'm a baby monkey. You're Mama Monkey. Halia's a baby monkey and there's Papa Monkey."

This "monkey family" thing has been going on for almost a week now. She's even assigned imaginary tails of various colours for all of us. I had mine installed late this morning.

More and more, Jade is using her imagination. Normal for most almost-four-year-old kids, sure, but there once was a time - not so very long ago - that I worried she would never come out of seizure shell and be able to do normal kid things like play "pretend".

Since we've weaned her off the last of her medications, we've seen both her language skills and logic skills blossom. She's catching up on her speech to where the normal kids are at, and she's tackling puzzles and other challenging activities. We can go to the playground now and not have to hover two inches away.

But there's more. We went out for dinner at a friend's place the other night and I started asking Jade to do things - normal things - that I would normally expect her to just do.

"Jade, drink your bubble drink¹."

"Jade, put your boots on."

"Jade, take your jacket off."

"Jade, it's time for bed."

The response to everything was NO! and when I'd repeat myself a little more sternly, the response became

NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!

What's the big deal, you ask?

My kid was being stubborn like a normal kid! My kid was throwing a tantrum like a normal kid! My kid was asserting herself like a normal kid!

On the outside, I was a stern, angry father. On the inside, I was jumping for joy.

Jade still isn't a normal kid. Even when we beat this epilepsy beast once-and-for-all (and we darned-well will), she still won't be a normal kid. She never will be normal because she's gone through something that most people can never imagine and will never be able to understand - but she's gone through it with courage and determination and spirit and because of it, I've learned more from her than from anybody else in my entire life.

My kid is extra-special.

And that's something I can celebrate.

¹A phosphate vitamin drink that she needs to take because of the ketogenic diet that controls her seizures.

Welcome, Canadian Blog Awarders!

2009-12-02T22:33:00.000-08:00

If you're new here, there's a good chance you came because of the Canadian Blog Awards. Welcome to Michael's Meanderings! Please feel free to kick up your feet and meander through the archives for a while!

To be honest, I was really flattered when I found out I was nominated but I already know that I don't have the "Best Family Blog". Sure, I share the occasional humorous or dramatic family story, but my blog is nowhere near as good as "Fawnahareo's Place", which has also been nominated.

So, please, go to the Canadian Blog Awards site and give credit where credit is due.

This message has been brought to you by the Fawnahareo for First Campaign.¹

¹Michael's Meanderings and its author are in no way affiliated with Fawnahareo's Place and its author except through marriage.

Where there's a pill there's a way.

2009-11-27T13:43:00.001-08:00

I want to thank everyone who reads this blog (either at michaelsmeanderings.com or on facebook) who ~~snickered at me~~ supported me in my struggle to swallow pills.

Many of you shared your tips and tricks. Hiding pills in my food has been tried on countless occasions. Sadly, it never worked. The "using candy sprinkles of increasing size" wasn't an option because of the sugar. Grinding and chewing were all techniques I have used (successfully) in the past. Unfortunately, the capsules that I need to take must be ingested whole or they won't work. They're probiotics and they're supposed to restore some of the good bacteria in my small intestine. There's a special coating on the capsules that will protect the bacteria from the hostile environment of my stomach until they make it into my small intestine. And for some reason, I'm not very fond of the idea of trying to get them there from the other direction.

In summary, the pills must be swallowed whole.

*Gulp*¹

Well, after thirty-plus years of not being able to swallow a pill, I decided enough was enough. But how to do it? I've already tried every bit of advice I've ever been given about swallowing pills. Taking the pill with a bit of water and knocking my head back has never worked. Swallowing or plugging my nose and swallowing has never worked. Putting the pill on the back of my tongue has never worked. And on and on and on. In the end, I turned to my old friend, the Interweb.

The Interweb had much of the same advice that friends and family have given me over the years. I began to feel despondent. Surely there are other people who suffer or have suffered from the same affliction, I reasoned, What do they have to say about it?

Lo and behold, here was some advice that was the TOTAL OPPOSITE of what I've been told over the years. I decided to give it a shot.

Here's what I did:

Made sure that nobody else was around
Took some warm soup (making sure it wouldn't have a negative interaction with the pill)
Sat down at the table and relaxed (the warm soup was soothing to my swollen, sprained tongue)
Put the pill in my mouth
Drank a mouthful of soup
Relaxed some more, letting the soup warm my mouth and palette
Tipped my head slightly forward
Let the pill float to the top of the soup in my mouth
Swallowed
Swallowed
Swallowed
Swallowed
Drank some more soup
Swallowed
Swallowed
Swallowed
Swallowed
Drank some more soup
Swallowed
Swallowed
Swallowed
Pushed my tongue forward and lifted the tip of my tongue towards my palette
Swallowed

As you can see, it took me about twelve tries the first time, but the pill went down. THE PILL WENT DOWN!!! WOOHOOO!!! It was such a gentle way to do it, I wasn't even sure it went down at first. I sat there in disbelief. I tested my mouth with my tongue, but the capsule wasn't there.

Then I jumped up and did a happy dance.

Fawn can attest that I was beaming with pride.

The next time I tried it, it only took four swallows.

This morning, it took only two.

I have conquered my greatest weakness! Take that, snickerers!

¹That gulping wasn't me swallowing a pill whole, of course. That gulping is the sound I would make any time knew I had to take a pill.

Your comedy. My tragedy.

2009-11-25T20:50:00.002-08:00

It's an affliction I've suffered from my entire life. I've tried to overcome it time and time again but to no avail.

It has gotten to the point where, if I were to go to a job interview and someone were to ask me what my greatest weakness is, it would be this.

People laugh when I tell them. "It's all in your head!" they declare. Then they laugh some more.

It's embarrassing.

No, it's more that just embarrassing, it's a health issue.

I...

I...

I can't swallow pills.

I've tried! Believe me, I've tried! I can swallow big globs of food, but if there's a hard little pill in there, I can't make it go down. I've tried tucking it on the back of my tongue. I've tried washing it down with big gulps of water or juice. I've tried jam and applesauce and hiding it in my food. My tongue always finds it and stops it from going down.

A couple of days ago, I managed to succeed in my attempt to wash it back with water - only to have the pill come up and get stuck in my nasal cavity (like when you sneeze food out your nose). The attempt (and subsequent recoil) was accompanied by a spray of water out of my mouth and nose with much coughing and hacking. Jade looked petrified to see her father in such a state. Fawn laughed.

Today, I tried tucking the pill waaaaaaaay back on my tongue. It almost worked until my tongue recoiled in horror and brought the pill forward. The gag was so strong that I sprained my tongue.

Yes, I sprained my tongue trying to swallow a pill.

No, it's not funny.

It's not funny to me, anyway. Fawn laughed. She tried to hide it, but it was poorly concealed. When I pointed it out, she laughed even harder.

I shall try again. I will try again.

Stupid pills.

Gettin' all knotty.

2009-11-22T22:31:00.000-08:00

Fawn and I are taking the Yukon Power and Sail Squadron's Basic Boating Course. I'm really enjoying it, not just because of the useful stuff we're learning, but because it reminds me of way back when, in my university days. Fawn and I met in university and taking this course is just like being in school with her all over again.

I'm getting all nostalgic! ~sniff~

We wrote our Pleasure Craft Operator Certificate exams on Saturday. We both got exactly the same mark with exactly the same one question wrong. We were sitting next to each other when we wrote it, so the instructor commented that it seemed very suspicious. I was just happy to finally have the PCOC done and over with. Fawn, on the other hand, seems unhappy that we got the same mark on the exam. Some things are about this course are not like old times. She's so used to kicking my butt, grade-wise, I think it has hurt her pride a little.

That's not the point of this entry, though. I wanted to talk about knots.

Yesterday afternoon, we did a session on knots with a great ol' guy named Barney who knows his stuff inside-and-out.

When I was a kid, I didn't see much point in learning how to tie knots. What's the big deal, right? Who cares if the loop goes over instead of under and then around and around again and whatever, blah, blah, blah. If it holds, then it's good enough, right?

Then I started sailing and then I started rock climbing and I realized that knowing the real knots - the good knots - can save a lot of time, effort, and frustration, and even a life.

If you've ever been curious about knots but haven't had a good way to learn how to tie them (or which knot to use when), then grab a nice piece of rope and check out Animated Knots by Grog.

Because you never know when you'll need to tie up a bank robber or stop a car from sliding off a seaside cliff.

The Path of Yeast Resistance

2009-11-13T23:06:00.000-08:00

I thought long and hard before deciding to post this entry. You see, it's about something kind of embarrassing, in the same way that those Pepto Bismal commercials must be embarrassing for the actors that appear in them. In the end, I reasoned that if this entry helps even just one person, it will be worth whatever personal embarrassment it causes me.

Thanks to a friendly suggestion from my wife, this entry is not nearly as gross as it could have been. Even still, some readers may find parts... unsettling.

Realizing that there was a problem.
I love the bathroom. Really. It's a great place to escape from the kids, read a book, relax, and have some time alone. It's like my Fortress of Solitude. There comes a point however, when too much of a good thing is too much of a good thing.

Fawn would comment on the amount of time I spent in the bathroom. I would brush it off. I was, after all, actually using the toilet. It's not like I was just sitting there twiddling my thumbs. Over time, though, I began to use the toilet more and more. Sometimes, desperately so. Far too often, desperately so.

Fawn suggested I go see a doctor. At first I brushed off her suggestion. Eventually, I agreed that she was right. Then, I did nothing about it.

Then, I still didn't do anything about it.

Eventually, Fawn called to make an appointment for me.

Visiting the doctor.
How was I going to explain this to the doctor? How do you talk to someone about something like that? It's not like it flows easily out of casual conversation.

"Hi! How are you doing?"

"Fine, thanks. How are you?"

"Oh, I've been dealing with a lot of crap lately."

OK, maybe it does. He ushered me into his office and I sat down, looking around at his certificates and clinical apparatus. Easing down into the seat across from me, the doctor asked what brought me in and I told him. Just like that. Once I got over my initial shame of being a gassy guy, it was easy.

"You have IBS!" he declared, "Irritable Bowel Syndrome!"

Oh my! I panicked, is that a permanent condition? Could I die? Could it get so bad that I end up spending the rest of my life on the toilet only to develop a permanent toilet seat ring on my bottom that I take to my grave?

"We're going to do some bloodwork and we'll need a stool sample. Perhaps you have parasites."

Parasites?!

It could also be allergies. Maybe there's something physically wrong with your intestines. We might have to do an endoscopy. We might have to go down through your mouth or up the other end." With this, smiled and poked his finger up into the air.

Gulp!

"It could be stress-related. Have you been experiencing any stress lately? Not more than usual?"

Not until now!

"In the meantime, get those bloodwork and stool sample tests done and try cutting some foods out of your diet. Try removing dairy or gluten."

I went and got the test done.

Removing my most beloved food.
Although I often tried, I could never figure out what set me off. Something I ate made me very, very gassy. Those mixed salads with all the purple and pointy-leaved greens? Grapes? Orange juice (especially if I'd had a glass of milk around the same time? Ice cream? Jelly snacks? Cauliflower? Noodles? Peanut butter?

Sometimes these things would seem to set me off and other times I'd have no reaction at all. Try as I might, I could find not find any connection.

I grieved, I took my doctors advice to stop drinking milk. I didn't think it would do anything; I've been eating and drinking dairy my whole life!

I reduced and then eventually eliminated my cheese intake, too. No more creamy pastas! No more gooey cheese sandwiches! No more delectable ice cream! No more cold, refreshing glasses of milk! No more warm, comforting mugs of hot milk!

Sob.

It was hard. If you've never tried to quit dairy before, you won't realize how ubiquitous it is. It's everywhere! Restaurant menus are filled with cheese-containing dishes!

Deep down inside, I secretly hoped that things wouldn't improve because I cut back on dairy.

Things improved.

A glimmer of hope. A source of confusion.
I got the results of my tests.

The good news was that I didn't have parasites. I didn't have a number of other things, either. I did, however, have an allergy to something. The tests didn't show what, just that I have an allergy to something.

Oh, no! I thought, I've developed an allergy to dairy!

By this point, I wasn't eating any dairy that could be identified as dairy. Even still, something was setting me off. Eliminating dairy helped, but it didn't solve the problem.

Perhaps it was the mysterious allergy? My doctor referred me to a specialist.

The problem is right there, under your nose.
I sat down with the specialist, a Doctor of Internal Medicine and Hematology. I already knew him from our dealings with Jade. He helped us to identify her food allergies.

He started asking me questions.

"Did you often feel tired?"

"Yeah! The kids wake up all through the night."

"Do you get moody or irritable?"

"Yeah, get that way when I don't have enough sleep. But now that you mention it, sometimes I get really cranky without knowing why."

"Do you get headaches?"

I never used to, but I'm getting them more and more often.

"Do you have any joint pains? Arthritis?"

Last month the fingers in my right hand got a little stiff for some reason, but no, not arthritis.

I wasn't sure where he was going with some of the questions. At one point, he asked me a question about diarrhea. Sure, lots. But the last time I had true diarrhea was when I went to the Dominican Republic. No, I didn't get it in the DR. It started on the plane before I even got there. What did I eat before getting on the plane? Pizza, I think. No, it was pasta.

He continued asking me questions and then a memory popped into my brain. How could I have forgotten about it? There was another time when I'd had awful diarrhea: It was a miserable experience!

I told the doctor about it.

A significant story, almost forgotten.
When I lived in the NWT, I would regularly play volleyball at the school gym. One night, while diving for a ball, I skinned my knee.

A few days later, the glands at the top of my legs had swollen. It was incredibly painful. The sore on my knee had grown too and, what's more, it started to spread. Weirdest of all, new sores were popping up in a spiral around the original wound.

There were no doctors in town and the next one wouldn't be coming for over a week. The nurse suggested I drive to the closest hospital. By the time I arrived, new sores were appearing on my un-wounded knee.

At the hospital, I was referred to a drop-in clinic. I didn't like the doctor at the drop-in clinic one bit. She looked at my knee and then asked me if I used drugs. Not the kinds of drugs that you take to treat something, but those other drugs. The hard ones. I, who am reluctant to even take an aspirin or tylenol, told her I didn't. I explained to her how I got the initial wound playing volleyball. She kept asking me the same question about the drugs, like she was trying to elicit a confession from a liar.

Eventually she told me I had a staphylococcus infection. We've all got it on our skin, but sometimes it gets a little carried away. She prescribed some antibiotics. She took a swab and sent it off to a lab. I never heard anything about the results.

I should have known that something was wrong when the pharmacist looked at me with raised eyebrows and asked, "Are you sure?"

"It's an antibiotic, right?" I asked in return. Indeed it was, but that didn't stop the pharmacist from phoning the doctor to be sure that was what she had prescribed.

I really, really should have known something was wrong.

I started taking the antibiotics and had to quit after three days. My knees were doing better and my glands had returned to normal, but there was something very wrong with my stomach. I couldn't tolerate any food. I kept having to go to the bathroom. In spite of Fawn's loving reminders that the full course of antibiotics should be used, I stopped taking them.

Things went from bad to worse. Even though I hadn't eaten for two whole days, I was still going to the bathroom. It was a peanut-buttery goop and it just wouldn't stop. It went on for over a week. I felt awful.

Finally, the doctor came to town. I told him about what was happening and he chuckled. He actually chuckled.

"She shouldn't have prescribed that to you. It's too powerful. Maybe if you'd had anthrax, but not for a staph infection. The antibiotics have killed the good bacteria that lives in your stomach. You have a yeast infection. That stuff that's coming out of you is yeast. Lots and lots of yeast."

He reached up into a cupboard and pulled out a tiny dropper bottle.

"Normally I prescribe this to babies" he explained, grinning from ear-to-ear, "It's an anti-fungal drop. It'll kill some of that yeast. In the meantime, eat lots of yogurt to get back some of that good bacteria."

I took the drops and it helped almost instantly. I bought up all the yogurt and yogurt snacks in town.

Problem solved!

That's the Yeast of your Problems
The Doctor of Internal Medicine took me into his examination room and looked me over. He asked me to lie down. He tapped on my stomach. Like usual, it sounded hollow. I was always hungry.

"You're bloated!" he exclaimed, "You're bloated right now!" It was like he was exclaiming "Eureka!"

"That's not normal?" I asked. It sure felt normal to me. My stomach was always like that.

"No, you're bloated. Sit up."

I sat up and he told me to open my mouth. He gently stuck what looked like a Q-tip on a long BBQ skewer into the back of my mouth until it touched my throat. He told me to put my shirt back on and then he left the office with the swab.

"Come and see this!" he shouted from down the hall a few minutes later.

I walked into the room where his voice had come from. It was like a miniature laboratory. He was standing over a microscope.

"Take a look," he offered, pointing at the microscope.

I looked into the eye pieces and saw a collection of pink- and purple-stained microbes.

"See those long ones that look like sticks?" he asked, "That's yeast. There's far too much there. You have a yeast overgrowth."

"What do I do about it?" I asked.

"For now, cut back on sugars and starches."

Sugars and starches! That was the connection! Every time my stomach had been set off, I had been eating a lot of sugary and starchy foods.

The doctor explained that yeast are primitive and hardy. They like warm, moist environments. If something (antibiotics, for example) knock down their bacterial competitors or give the yeast a leg-up (like high quantities of their favourite sugary and starchy foods), they party and then multiply like crazy.

Why should anybody care about a stomach full of happy yeast?
Although we use yeast for a great many things, yeast don't serve much of a purpose in our intestines. It would appear that their sole responsibility is to decompose our bodies after we die. If they get out of control, they can start doing their job a little too soon.

They're not a problem when they're held in check, but when there are too many of them, they block the good bacteria from processing our food and getting absorbed by our intestines. As a result, our bodies don't get the micronutrients they need. It gets worse, though. The yeast produce toxins that can affect us in all sorts of awful ways.

That tiredness, cloudy-headedness, and short-temperedness I'd been feeling? Caused by an infusion of yeast toxins and a lack of micronutrients. They can be far more damaging than that, but I'll let you do your own research on the topic.

The battle for my belly.
I have taken the doctor's advice and then some.

I've made some significant dietary changes. Grains are out, which means no breads or pastas. Potatoes and other starchy foods have been restricted. I'm eating a lot more leafy vegetables than I ever did. I am eating more fruit, but am being careful about how much. I take great comfort in the mastication of meat.

It hasn't been easy. I have constant carbohydrate cravings. I've read that those will pass. Right now, the yeast is yelling at my body to give it a quick and easy sugar fix - but I'm not letting that happen no matter how powerful the cravings get and no matter how hungry I feel.

A victorious assault.
When the yeast started dying off, I felt it. I experienced some of the same cloudy-headed, head-achey symptoms that I had been feeling before. They call those "die-off symptoms" and they're caused by the toxins that are released by the dying yeast.

My trips to the bathroom have become much less urgent and much less frequent. What had become normal for me was not normal at all. Now I have to get used to this new normal which is really, well, normal. Completely normal.

Over the years, I thought that I was developing a little pot belly. My pants were getting uncomfortably tight. The doctor had pointed to my stomach and said that it would flatten out once the yeast had been dealt with. Just like that, when the yeast stopped producing their tonnes of gasses, my little pot belly disappeared. My pants all fit properly again.

One day, when the good bacteria in my stomach have had a chance to firmly re-establish themselves, I'll gently go back to eating grains and dairy (depending on what the allergy tests say). I'll even have dessert from time-to-time.

For now though, I'll continue to follow the Path of Yeast Resistance.