A Mournful Disease,

From the Heart of a Mourner

No more. Nevermore.

Final. That's it. Fini.

The End with a capital E.

The last time ever.

Maybe the last straw.

No cinnamon scones,

pumpkin muffins,

Dutch apple bagels,

or raisin, or sesame, or Asiago, or poppyseed, or whole wheat, either.

No Dunkin' or Mel-O-Cream donuts with holes,

or powdered sugar,

or chocolate or caramel icing,

with crème or custard or jelly filling

that oozes onto shirt fronts of the unprepared.

No Chinese take-out.

No order-in pizza.

No fast food hamburgers, flame-broiled, hot off the grill, we make it right for you!

Definitely not true, thank you very much.

No more casual plans to meet at the deli

or Baskin-Robbins

or the coffee shop

For a shared brunch, a quick snack, a piece of pie after the concert.

A twist of fate.

A body gone awry.

Death's door ajar.

Choice to be mourner or mourned.

Gut-wrenching, misguided armies of destruction attack,

Incited by traces of wheat, rye, barley, oats,

in any of many forms.

In the past, synonymous with wholesome, life-sustaining!

Heretofore, personal poisons.

Hard times in grocery store lines

After slow, label-obsessed passages

along shelf after shelf of untouchables, inedibles.

RSVP regrets for dinner invitations from unaware friends.

Avoidance of church potluck temptations;

now to trade only in spiritual feedings.

At home, tearful (miss)trials of gluten-free cooking.

Required to endorse the concept of "conscious living";

An audition for a role in the latest production

by the Theatre of the Absurd.

Plan or do without.

Otherwise, plan on being preoccupied.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know.

Forbidden makes the mind obsess,

even in sleep.

Stages of grieving.

Bleeding guts preclude all opportunities to deny.

The necessity for one hundred percent dietary compliance

disallows bargaining.

Whole cupboards of food go up in smoke,

ignited by anger.

Bowls of ice cream melt from the heat,

become soup spilling over,

Diluted by streams of tears

that steam,

And evaporate finally,

into an empty peace.

One bargain still remaining;

not joyfully embraced, yet accepted.

In the balance, to heal.

Eating carefully now,

To live.

Note. This was written as a therapeutic exercise in the process of learning to live with a new diagnosis of Celiac Disease

Jane C. Joost, M.D.

Department of Pediatrics