I lost eight pounds in two weeks thanks to a combination of the Dr. Oz Two Week Rapid Weight Loss Program and a violent attack of gallstones caused by it. Truth be told, I abandoned the diet after a week and two trips to the ER and I'm now subsisting on instant oatmeal, dry toast, soup, tuna fish and avocado.
The searing back pain has gone, thank God. Now it only hurts when I walk, breath or laugh. Oh yes, and my poop is now resembling the sludge from the Exxon Valdez.
But I'm still here. In pain, but still here.
And I'm vowing to blow the lid off the ill effects of The DOTWRW and other diets that can nearly kill you without at least the following disclaimer: Can result in the following: unexpected weight loss, pain that equals that of child birth, and alien life forms spewing out your butt hole.
The good news is that I feel like I've come out the other side.
But: what to do to make sure this never happens again? Well, it seems Sherlock Holmes, 'is self, couldn't find an eating regime that will prevent another gallstone attack. Other than not following any eating regimes recommended by the Great and Powerful Oz.
I can't ask my doctor. I saw him in the grocery store yesterday and he, literally, ran out of the store when I greeted him.
There is no good consistent information. I suspect this is because everybody's triggers are different. Some people have gallbladder attacks from eating fatty food. Others from drinking. Still others from dieting.
It seems to be trial and error, like walking on a floor with disappearing tiles. Step on the wrong one and you're down on your ass.
So for now, I'm onto old people food.
Gruel. The early bird special.
Beets. Coffee. Cucumbers. These seem to be safe foods.
Steak, spice, anything with fat, alcohol, are all off limits.
Still, on the Eve of Easter, I am grateful that this is all it was. Could have been worse.
I could be like poor Jim Flaherty, a man whom, the day before he died, was telling his pal Mike Harris that he was looking forward to sailing across Lake Ontario.
That ship will sail.
What a shocker, poor Jim Flaherty, felled like a tiny sapling on the golf course, struck down in his prime by a stray bolt of lighting.
Didn't live long enough to make his nut or collect his old age pension.