Your gut is telling you what to eat — and you're not listening

[Jamastiene]

6. Oh, I listen alright.

Thing is, it craves stuff that I can no longer have. It's just that my gut wants foods that used to make it comfortable and Campbell's quit making their Oyster Stew and Chicken and Dumplings and my grandmother is deceased. Those used to soothe my savage stomach more than anything. I have no clue how to copy whatever they had in those cans and my grandmother would have put any umpteen star chef to shame. My tummy misses her and those certain Campbell's recipes.

Now, I just douse it in cayenne, because it seems to like that nowadays. I guess it is rebelling. If I can't have something soothing, let's eat the spiciest we can handle, it says. And I listen. I also crave fruit a lot and veggies. We do ok.

My stomach ulcer has not come back yet, but it almost did. The doctors at this shitty, quack-filled hospital in Rockingham have me on an extremely high dose aspirin regimen. Or did. They are known for killing patients. You can go in there with a hemorrhoid and come out with a toe tag. They killed my cousin outright. She died right outside the hospital, right across the street from it for an aneurysm. They told her to suck it up and take the headache AFTER knowing she had the aneurysm.

They put me on an extremely high dosage of aspirin. I changed that shit when I noticed how much I was bleeding, both externally and internally. They just don't know I changed it yet. I could literally close my hands a tad too tight and bruise my palms very badly.

GRAPHIC WARNING FOR SOME SQUEAMISH MEN, CALL ME WHEN YOU NEED SOMEONE TO CATCH A SPIDER FOR YOU:
Something as simple as female stuff had me in the floor, too weak from bleeding too much.

OK GRAPHIC WARNING OVER:
The doctor that put me on such a high dosage was suspended before for drug addiction and if NC didn't have such lax malpractice laws, he might not still even be a doctor with some of his horrid practices. He started to feel me up while he thought I was asleep while I was in the hospital last summer. Fucking sicko. He also asked me why I was on Zoloft and what I had to be depressed about. What a fucking asshole. I hope there is a special spot in hell for that one doctor. The nurses were great. Why can't nurses just do everything? They already do, practically, and they are much more professional than these asshat doctors where I live.

Anyhow, I could not take bleeding half to death just for being female every month, so, I have taken it upon myself to listen to my bleeding body (I couldn't even sneeze without a nosebleed on the 325mg of aspirin) and I'm down to the 81mg of aspirin and doing better now. My tests are coming up optimal and everything is healthy without 325mg a day. Fucking quack of a doctor.

I wish I could remember how to make milk and tomatoes. I know. I know. It sounds like a very simple recipe, duh, but my grandmother did something special to it that I cannot seem to replicate. Love, maybe? The soothing experience of being with my grandmother? I dunno. Her cooking was the best and I have sorely missed it...and especially have missed her. I doubt I can ever replicate her amazing healthy recipes, but surely someone who used to work at Campbell's Soup can tell me how they made their Chicken and Dumplings. I promise not to let on that a trade secret has been shared. I mean, Campbell's is not making it any more. They don't need to keep it damn secret any more.

In the meantime, lots of strawberries and oranges, but not together. I tried that the other day and no, that won't work. And lots of bland soups that I hate. Damn you, Campbell's Soup and whatever force in the universe took my Granny. And while I am at it, FUCK CANCER for taking Domino, Sunday Girl, AND Yogi.