Going Gluten-free

So, here's the thing.  I think I'm going to try going on a gluten-free diet.  Well, maybe not entirely gluten-free.  I probably should start out with baby steps and gradually incorporate gluten-free foods into my diet.

Why, you may be asking?  The reason is that Graves Disease is an autoimmune disorder.  So is Celiac Disease, and those with Celiac must eat gluten-free foods in order to be healthy.  Admittedly this thinking is very elementary, and the logic may be tenuous at best.  After all, those with Celiac must go on a gluten-free diet is because, according to the National Institutes of Health, "Celiac [D]isease is a condition that damages the lining of the small intestine and prevents it from absorbing parts of food that are important for staying healthy.  The damage is due to a reaction to eating gluten, which is found in wheat, barley, rye, and possibly oats."

Unfortunately for my Graves Disease, doctors don't know what I can do or eat to reverse the effects of the symptoms.  Maybe that's because there's nothing I can do or eat to reverse the effects of the symptoms, or maybe that's because doctors have yet to make the link scientifically.  For some reason, a small part of me thinks it's the latter.  Regardless, I figure it can't hurt to give this a try.

If nothing else, this "project" will make me more aware and conscious of the kinds of food I eat on a daily basis.  Thankfully the switch will be made easier by food companies making more gluten-free products and grocery stores devoting aisles to those gluten-free products.  Hopefully, too, that means the taste difference isn't quite so noticeable as it was three years ago, when a friend and former coworker of mine had to go on a gluten-free diet because of Celiac Disease.

Have you tried incorporating gluten-free foods into your life?  How challenging has it been, and what has made it so?  Or do you think there are other things I could be doing instead of worrying how much wheat to eat?  ( <-- poet and didn't even know it!)

Where Do You See Yourself in Five Years?

You know Kenneth on "30 Rock," the TV show?  That was almost me.

Not the role, but the position of NBC Page.  Nine years ago, I applied to the prestigious NBC Page Program.  I made it to the final round, and I know exactly why they didn't offer me a position.  I didn't tell them what they wanted to hear.

About eight of us applicants were seated around a board room table (ala "The Apprentice"), and the question was, "Where do you see yourself in five years?"  One by one, people rattled off their answers.  "I want to be a TV reporter in a Top 50 market," said one.  "I will be an editor at the Today Show," said another.  "I will have earned my master's degree, married my college sweetheart, had our first child, and begun working as a field producer for Dateline."  Pretty specific.

My answer, however, was the black sheep in the room.  Instead of something so scripted and expected, I took a more philosophical approach.  "I don't know where I'll be, and I'd be foolish to pretend like I do," I said.  "But I hope wherever I am—whether it be a small-market anchor, a network production assistant, or a position in a completely unrelated field—I hope I act with purpose, stay true to my values, and avoid regret every step of the way."  I see now how that might've seemed like a dodgy response, but I'm pretty sure I was the only one in the room who genuinely meant every word he said.

2008 Dancing with the Albany Stars Champion
Never thought I'd win a Mirror Ball trophy!

I had reason to be so idealistic, too.  If you'd asked me five years earlier, my answer probably would have been that I was going to be applying to medical school, not the NBC Page Program.  And it certainly wouldn't have included experiences like running a commercial radio station in Charlottesville, Va.  Moreover, sitting in that board room high atop 30 Rock, I had no idea that a year later I would be graduating with honors from Columbia University.  Or that five years later I would be diagnosed with a life-altering, incurable autoimmune disease.

This applies to all of us.  I've come to learn that life isn't about how well we plan for the future so much as how we make the most of present opportunities (though, just because I realize this doesn't mean I practice it well).  We don't know what tomorrow might bring, but we all know what today has brought.  Sure, there's something to be said for having a direction to follow in our lives, and I'm not advocating that anyone wander aimlessly professionally or personally.  But asking someone their career goals, their motivations, and their interests is a different question than, "Where do you see yourself in five years?"  Think about it.  Why not just ask, "What are your career goals?  What are your motivations?  What interests you?"

Needless to say, you can probably tell I don't like the "five years" question.  In fact, I was asked a similarly phrased question in a recent interview, and my answer was akin to what you're reading here.  I started by explaining my career goals, motivations, and interests, then I admitted I couldn't say what the next five years would bring.  I stressed to the interviewer that I didn't mean it as an insult or criticism of her question, but rather it was the most honest answer I could give.  She kindly took me at my word.  Fortunately I got the position.

Face for Radio

Charlottesville, Va., 2006

When people find out I used to be a TV anchor, their immediate reaction invariably is, "Oh, so you're a celebrity."  That word always makes me cringe a little, probably because of the way Jersey Shore, the Kardashians, and other reality drivel have redefined that word for the worse.  Nevertheless, I did get recognized from time to time in the communities where I worked.  There was the time a cashier opened a register just for me, despite others having waited longer than I had (I was extremely embarrassed by this).  There was the time a schnockered woman wanted me to sign an autograph in a most unusual location (see picture) in front of several friends (again, embarrassing).  Perhaps my favorite: The time a precocious little girl saw me leaving Sam's Club right behind her.  She enthusiastically told the good news to her mother, who tersely dismissed her excitement with "Honey, he looks nothing like the TV news man, now get in the car!"

I say all this not to brag, but rather because I'm used to people looking at me, sometimes strangely.  Now, though, I'm getting stares for a different reason.

Previous posts on this blog have touched on the physical side effects of Graves Disease.  The one that I struggle with the most is my bulging eyes.  My eyes "bug out," bringing with it discomfort and sensitivity.  Aside from the constant tearing (that's "tear" as in cry, not rip) and need for eye drops—which may seem contradictory—there's a psychological impact, too.

I'm well aware of my eyes making my face look different.  People who know me probably don't notice it as much as strangers.  Or me.  But if you look at my face, something's off.  The Thyroid Eye Disease has caused my eyes to look big, seem asymmetrically placed, and appear to be protruding abnormally.  Actually that last part is not an appearance but a fact.  Regardless, it's enough of an abnormality for strangers to notice something is off when they first meet me.  Especially children.  It's not uncommon for a child in church to be smiling and looking around one minute, then in awe and fixated on my eyes the next.  One time, while waiting to get my hair cut, a child stared at me for about three minutes before saying, "Your face looks weird."  If only I had the wit of Art Linkletter or Bill Cosby at that moment.

Of course, there are all kinds of associations linking unusual appearance with diminished capacity or social inaptitude, but that might be where my own self-consciousness kicks in.  It's quite possible that people look at me for reasons other than the physical side effects of my Graves Disease.  Personally, I doubt that.  I try to ward off the unusual glances by squinting my eyes because that makes my eyes not look so big.  One-on-one conversations give me a hard time, though.  People are usually closer and can see my eyes better than if they were just passing on the street or in a hallway.  I've noticed that I tend to look away more when I'm talking with one person.  And if I see them looking in my eyes, I have a hard time staying focused on the topic of conversation.

Whether I'm right or wrong, I've accepted this as reality.  But I don't like it, and I don't know how to change it.  An ophthalmologist at the Mayo Clinic suggested I consider orbital decompression surgery.  I've never had surgery before, and what if something goes wrong?  I don't want my vision to be damaged over something superficial and cosmetic.  I'm (naively?) hoping that things will improve.  I'm hoping that with less stress, the right medication, a healthy diet, and appropriate exercise, many of these problems will dissipate despite what the literature says.  We'll see...