This Week's Cooking Challenge: Low Iodine Diet

 So over the past few months it finally dawned on me that I was Not Feeling Well.  I blew it off, thinking "overwork and stress," the Usual Suspects, but finally the extreme fatigue, achiness, bloating, and feeling cold all the time made me do some research.  My mom had thyroid problems, and my symptoms were consistent with hyperthyroidism, so I went to the doctor and she ran a few tests.  Then she sent me to another doctor, who re-ran the same blood tests and added a thyroid sonogram and nuclear thyroid uptake test to the list.

In preparation for the nuclear thing, I have to be on a low iodine diet for at least a week prior to taking the pill that will make me glow in the dark (at least any bad bits).  I looked at the list of banned foods and thought "challenge accepted."

Faced with "no dairy, no egg yolks, no salt except Kosher, no iodine/iodate conditioned doughs (huh? okay, no bread unless I make it myself), no carrageenan or guar gum, no vitamin supplements, no Red Dye #3 (I'll try to restrain myself), no chocolate except cocoa powder and some dark chocolate, no soy but soy oil is okay . . . well, you get the idea:  a challenge.  I cancelled my lunch dates, got out my shopping list, and planned a workable menu for the week.

First thing I made was my favorite vegan Sweet Potato Almond Butter Muffins (minimalistbaker.com recipe).  I bought Trader Joe's Coconut Creamer for my coffee, since I had to forego my usual decadent dollop of whipping cream.  Breakfast sorted.  On to lunch.  Using my beautiful semi-new Instant Pot, I made a double batch of my mom's lentil soup recipe, which is simple and delicious, just lentils, water, onions, carrots, garlic (duh, of course!), tomato sauce (I used Whole Foods' salt free diced tomatoes), salt and pepper.

Whole Foods, by the way, sells chicken that has not been injected with the usual saline solution (hey, if I'm going to avoid all salt except Kosher, I'm going to be OCD about it), so I bought a whole chicken and a few chicken breasts.  I made beer can chicken with the whole chook, which I enjoyed last night with my vegan daughter's contribution to my diet:  Roasted Cauliflower, Freekeh and Tahini (cookieandkate.com recipe). Yummy!  The chicken breasts will probably be marinated for souvlaki, and I also bought short ribs which I will pop into the slow cooker tomorrow.

It may seem daunting, but it's helpful that I cook most meals anyway, so all I have to do is make a few adjustments to my normal menu. Plus, nowhere on the list did it say "no liquor!"  I'll trade chocolate for a glass of wine any day.  And I have: Côté Mas Rosé from Whole Foods with the chicken last night - c'est parfait!

Tears Frozen in Time - Reflections on Suicide

May I never make my children feel the way I do right now.  This morning my boss’ father, who was facing the prospect of assisted living, committed suicide.  My boss’ grief at the sudden news unleashed a gut punch of howling rage and sadness inside of me that I thought had been dealt with, catalogued, resolved, and tidily put on a shelf to be examined in a clinical fashion at my leisure.

Fifteen years ago this month my father did the same thing, opted to leave this world on his own terms.  Dad wasn’t physically sick.  He probably would have lived to be 100, as his big brother almost did (Uncle Gene missed it by two weeks).  Dad was very very depressed, exacerbated by cheap wine and Xanax.  I’m sure he thought that he was doing everybody a favor, or, in more typical Dad fashion, thought “fuck it, I’m done.”

That was his choice.  I respect a person’s decision to leave life on their own terms, in their own way, I really do.  Two years after Dad died, my mother slipped quietly out of life, the last act of dementia that took her away from life little by little, memory by memory, until there was nothing left but a shadow and, finally, that was gone.  Which way was preferable?  Easier?  More “respectable” or “dignified?”  Damned if I know.  I spent many years grieving for my mother while she was still alive; her death was an anticlimax to the life that had ceased to exist.  Dad’s death was sudden, violent, painful, even after 15 years.

Suicide is a way of choosing the manner of our death, the ultimate control of our destiny.  It leaves grief like shards of shattered glass in its wake.  I do not know what the manner of my death will be.  I believe that I will concentrate on my life instead, and make as many beautiful memories for myself and my loved ones as I possibly can.