My Body (and Liver) Love Quitting Sugar

I am late to the “I Quit Sugar” heap, I know.  So many blogs out there, why pile on?  Because it is that important.

I *might* have NAFLD. . .Non-alcoholic fatty liver disease.  I was a fit woman once upon a time.   Before my spinal cord injury 7 years ago and resulting long-fusion and accompanying hardware, I played tennis umpteen times a week.  I also had a job on my feet all day. I definitely surpassed the 10K steps trend.  My cholesterol was excellent, my blood pressure model-perfect.  My weight was, well, heavier than you would have thought by looking at me, but I have always been a muscular girl.  In other words, I was fit by all standards. . .

Even so. . .I had a belly.  Not a flabby, robust stomach, but a hard, almost swollen stomach, that area just under my rib cage.  Oh, it’s a family thing.  Oh, I’m apple-shaped. . .  Then came the spinal cord injury and it only worsened.  Without the constant physical activity (I cannot run or play tennis anymore,etc..) I became too sedentary and for the first time in my life, I was fat. I went from a tiny crab apple shape to a pumpkin.

Because of my spine, I get scans periodically: MRIs, CTs, even a mylogram.  A radiologist is the specialist who interprets all the images, regardless of symptoms, and will remark on everything whether anyone wants to know or not.  Meanwhile, the doctors—PC, Urologist, or Neurosurgeon—who ordered the scan, often summarize only the results of what they want to know—your lungs, your bladder, or your spine—for the patient.  Most people never see what the radiologists’ notes are on these scans and just trust their doctor to inform them. Oh, I did that, too, while my neurosurgeon described this vertebra or that disc when we gazed at the images together.

But then I got all my records printed out for an insurance purpose and happen to read some of the radiology reports.  I discovered my neurosurgeon had only paid attention to the results on my spine.  One particular scan, however, also noted a small tumor on my thyroid, a cyst on my ovaries, an unknown kidney stone, and fat on my liver. 

Well, no one told me.  None seemed to be bothering me, but still, I had to be the one to ask my PC about all these things.  The thyroid scared the endocrinologist, a very rare, but benign growth, which needs attention periodically, the kidney stone was too big to pass and the urologist wanted to keep an eye on its position, the cyst on the ovary resolved.

And my liver? The numbers were mostly fine, a bit high, so Primary Care Physician was not that worried. Not all the different radiologists on all the different scans over the years have remarked about “Fat on Liver” so I asked: “Is it a mistake?” 

My PC at the time said, “Yeah, based on that and the shape of your belly, you probably have fatty liver disease. Lose some weight.”  Uh. . .is that all?  I tried counting calories like mad for six weeks, religiously using an app that helped with diets and exercise (water aerobics).  Not an ounce dropped off.  I told myself and everyone else, I cannot control my weight with food, I have to be able to really run, really get my heart rate up, but. . .how?

Then I had a weird thing happen in 2018.  I had a series of bladder infections and one of them sent me to the hospital.  The doctor was afraid I was suffering from C-Diff, a deadly infection people get after too many antibiotics.  No, but I was suffering from severe liver inflammation.  My numbers were ridiculously high; before they solved the problem, I became jaundiced and my side was in great pain.  They decided my gall bladder was the nasty little bugger causing the problems—though it had no sludge, no stones, which are usually the indications that the gall bladder has to go.  Soon after they removed it, my liver started behaving again.  Again, I asked about the “possible fat on my liver.”  This surgeon glanced through the most recent scans and said, “Oh, your gall bladder was the problem, but maybe. . .you should talk to your PC.”  Again, my PC said, “Yeah, based on all that you should try to lose weight.” 

I got a different PC. This one sent me to a gastro who specializes in Hepatic function.  A million tests later, he did not confirm nor deny NAFLD; all he could say was, “Yes, your liver numbers are high—but not too far above normal, stop eating beef and pork and fats.”  Okay.  I did.

Then this year, that kidney stone that has been lurking decided to go on the move.  And out it had to come.  Laser surgery broke that sucker into a million tiny pieces, which doc hoovered out.  But I had a poor result, and after fighting an infection with antibiotics, I had a very similar reaction to the one I had to the bladder infection/gall bladder incident of 2018.  I was hospitalized again, and once again, my liver was going bananas.  (I suspect my long-gone gall bladder was NOT the culprit in 2018;  Perhaps, in both cases, the antibiotic and my liver were not compatible.  And a bit of research shows that this brand/type has caused hepatic failures.)

I spent several days in hospital on IVs, and slowly my liver began to behave again.  THIS time I met a doctor who listened to me when I said I thought it was the antibiotics and my liver.  He asked me if I had ever been diagnosed with NAFLD.  I said, not exactly, and told him about the scans and the confusing responses I got from doctors. And then he actually gave me real advice. 

He said, “Yes, once I saw a scan of my own and noticed that the radiologist saw fat on my liver—my doctor did not mention it.  I saw it myself, just like you.  That is the hallmark of NAFLD.”

I told him, I try very hard to protect my liver.  I drink alcohol hardly ever,  I do not eat red meats, I rarely eat cheese.  I cut the fats. . .I eat all the stuff that is supposed to be great for the liver like beets and grapefruit!  And I explained how hard it seemed for me to lose weight.

He said, “I understand.  But let me tell you this:  do not worry about the number on the scale.  Yes, I needed to lose weight when I saw my liver’s fat on my own scan. But what you should do is stop eating sugar.”

I argued how I am not a big sugar junky. I do not binge on cookies and I almost never eat candy.  And he cut me off, saying, “What about your coffee in the morning?  Even fructose and fruit?  Your liver converts sugar and fructose directly into fat and stores that fat right in the liver.  You must stop the sugar.”

Well, why didn’t somebody tell me!!  I was guilty of all those.

I learned then that the Western diet is so full of sugar that Cirrhosis caused by alcohol will be surpassed in my lifetime by sugar-related cirrhosis. Doctors no longer call a fat, round stomach a beer belly, but a sugar belly. 30% of all liver transplants in the U.S. today are caused by NAFLD that became NASH (non-alcoholic steotohepatitis).

This was the hospitalist (or what some places call “The Attending”) who educated me.  He was simply the guy overseeing what all the specialists were doing while I was in the hospital.  The Gastro checking my liver said nothing of the sort.  My new PC never mentioned sugar.  And of course, the last time I was in the hospital with my liver in danger, I was served every sugary food they could think of: juices, jellos, puddings (Soft stuff they thought I could stomach.) Even the old PC who suggested I have NAFLD, the one who twice told me I should lose weight, never said, Stop Sugar.

Well,  I stopped sugar.

And here is the result.  First and foremost, I feel great.  I do not have these odd drops in energy, you know the kind, where putting your head on your pillow in the middle of the afternoon is all you desire. . .I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m ready to bound up a tree like a hyper squirrel or anything, but it’s more that grogginess is not my constant companion.  This “more energy” thing you read about on ubiquitous no-sugar sites is less a spike or a blast pushing me, and more a stabilized, comforting alertness.  Overtime, I’ve noticed my hunger is not as biting in the morning; I used to joke “I’m so starving, my stomach is starting to eat itself” if a meal was late; Never feel that way anymore.  Sure, I get hungry, but not gnawing hunger.

And to be honest, I did not notice these differences right away. I think the changes occurred right away, but because they were an absence and not an appearance, I did not miss them. . .The one time I have felt “starvation” was a surprise to me, like, Oh, yeah, I forgot about you!   On Thanksgiving I promised myself pie—afterall, I’m not a diabetic, I’m not going my whole life without the pleasure of a great treat, and won’t the pecans offer that all-forgiving protein and fiber?—but an hour after my small slice, I wanted to crawl in my bed.  No, it was not tryptophan; we did not eat turkey—I was feeling a debilitating blood sugar spike and drop that I once thought was normal.  And I recognized, again, Gee, that’s how I used to feel! 

Second, the weight I could not drop by counting calories is falling off of me, and disappearing most rapidly off my stomach.  I know not everyone has this result, and some people even gain weight when they give up sugar because they start eating more fats than they are used to, but I’ve lost 23 pounds since the end of September.  I do not count calories.  While I still avoid beef and pork, I do not worry about measuring proteins and carbs or anything that is trendy. . . I just do my best to eat balanced meals that meet that nutrition triangle we have had rammed down our throats since kindergarten.  Last night, I had mushroom ravioli and a cream sauce (made from Ripple, not actual cream. . .could not tell the difference.)  Earlier this week, I made meatloaf with ground chicken and bison, and sides of sauteed carrots, mashed cauliflower with an added potato.  The boys also had bread.  And even bread, I will eat, as long as it is not a type that is full of sugar.

I am not necessarily avoiding naturally occurring sugars in some foods like cheese or green beans, or even carbs like flour or rice (though I limit these last two), but I am definitely avoiding ADDED sugars if I can, which is where things get dicey.

Finding packaged, convenience foods that do not have added sugar is nearly impossible.  And let me tell you. . . the food industry is not legally obligated to be completely honest about sugars, so you MUST learn the various names for sugar if you want to avoid it.  I bought some fat-free Half-and-half for my coffee (Why, yes, haha, it IS an oxymoron). I’d looked at the large nutrition panel and not the tiny ingredient list when I bought it (because I did not have my readers with me, that’s why).   The nutrition panel said, “0 added sugars”.  I consumed it for a few days before noticing that corn syrup was the second ingredient.  Well, apparently, unless it is actual cane sugar, the producer can state it has “no added” sugars. 

I’ve had to make sure I read into the fine print.  There are over fifty different ways sugar can show up in that list and my liver cannot tell the difference.

Take a stroll through the market and randomly pickup cans and boxes; read the labels.  You will see, not only have the majority of companies put sugar in their products for no good reason—potato chips, corn, chili, pasta—but you will also see how they lie to you, stating there is zero or <1 gram of added sugar when there is quite a lot more.  In fact, knowing how mothers want to feel they are feeding their children something healthy, many cereal boxes will scream “no added sugar” on their front panel, only to list malt extract or maltose in their ingredients.

 With that said, I also do avoid some foods that have higher amounts of natural sugars than others, like cow’s milk and fruits.  As the doctor said, “You must stop eating fruits.”  Whaaaaat?  Aren’t fruits a whole category on my healthy pyramid?  And mangos and pineapple were my favorite sweets, making me feel superior to my husband who can down a box a GoodNPlenty every night.  But as the doc said, the liver converts fructose right into fat and stores it in its walls.  Further reading suggests that the fiber, antioxidants, and nutritional benefits of fruit outweigh its sins of fructose.  So, I do eat fruit; I just choose the ones with fewer grams of fructose, like berries and grapefruit, over mangos and dates.  And I don’t eat multiple servings per day.   At first, I tried to go fruit-free.  But I noticed that by the third week, I was dragging.  I think I was not getting enough nutrition. .. since cutting out packaged foods AND fruit eliminated a portion of my typical diet.

I also do not use any sweetener other than Stevia.  Period. 

If I am trying to protect my liver, too much research argues that all the other sweeteners spike my blood sugar and can result in the same problems.  Most—not all—show that Stevia does not. 

And let me tell you, I have always hated, passionately spit-it-out hate, fake sweeteners.  And I used to sugar up my coffee like it was competing with Baskin Robbins’ coffee ice cream.  At first, I disliked even the stevia. But after going without sugar, and researching stevia brands for quality, I am now excited to have my coffee in the a.m. again.  Some argue that this will keep my sugar cravings in cycle, causing me to stumble in my quest.  Maybe that is true with the other sweeteners that do spike blood sugar? But so far, that has not been the case with Stevia.

And. . .Yes!  I’ve noticed that savory tongue-thing happening—foods that did not used to taste sweet are so obviously sugary now.  I make a Ukrainian pasta called PediHeh (or Verenky or even perogies to others) for my father around this time of year.  It was always savory to me.  Now it tastes like dessert.  It is a mixture of eggs, flour, butter and cottage or ricotta cheese.  And I swear it seems like I have added scoops of sugar to it.  I made sweet potato puffs for dinner, and I felt like I was eating a donut.  I had read how this distortion would happen, yet it still astonishes me.

I must admit, though, the one thing that every other sugar-shunner bragged about was eluding me.  I read how people will eventually find sweet things, not only too sweet, but distasteful. Not me. I still had daily cravings, picturing very specific sweets.  There is a little bakery in town that serves raspberry cronuts and I found myself thinking about them wa-a-ay too much in the last few months.  There is a certain crispness to baked goods that celery cannot copy.  Thus, nutritionists say that giving into these sorts of cravings now and then cannot hurt.  So last Friday, I let myself have that treat, and less than half way through I had to stop.  It was not satisfying me. A mouthful of melted lollipop could not have been more gross; the texture felt more gunky and plastic than crispy and delicious.  I tasted my husband’s brownie and my son’s cookie.  Same problem.  Wow!

Yesterday, I looked over the display at a Panera bread, filled with croissants and cookies, cakes and muffins. Tempted in the past, I might have bought a sampling, but yesterday?  Nothing spoke to me. At all.  Holy crap, the shift had arrived!

Is my liver doing better?  I do not know.  I have my yearly physical in January.  My last hospital stay, my numbers had improved, but were not yet normal when I was discharged.  We’ll have to see.  But you know. . .since, so far, no doctor has ever completely confirmed nor denied the existence of NAFLD, I can only go by My Own Gut, and it tells me I’m onto something good here.

I (don’t) Eat, Therefore I Am

God’s Guide to Food. God Sex Food. Women, Food, and God. All are titles of recent books. I figure most of them are about diets. I don’t really care. What I notice, though, is how many people seem to believe that if they can just get the right combo of foods. . .they will go to heaven. By people I typically mean my dinner guests. And by Heaven, I mean any wondrous place other than who they are right now.

And, as a person who likes to cook for others as a way of showering them with love, I am mighty weary of this crap.

My cook’s nightmare begins in grade school. Children younger than school-age dislike the typical gaseous cruciferous veggies because their tongues typically abhor the garbage after taste. This is true of all babies, pretty much. But visit any school and you will run into kids who dislike steak, or all things orange, or strawberries, or Cheetoes or anything that they can hold up and say, “I am the kid who Hates XYX; it is what makes me more special than you!” When you raise a family, you can watch your own kids try to board this trend when they ask, “Hey, Mom! Is there any food I get hives from?”. And they are disappointed when you answer, “No.” Worse, they start saying things like, “You know I can’t eat anything with leaves!” Uh, since when? Since you met that intriguing kid who can’t eat anything with eyes?

Since when did what we avoid on our dinner plates become the new vanity plate?

Now shift this to the college campuses, where students drink beer like water, cling to sushi stools like birds, and avoid animal proteins (other than raw fish), and any of its cosmetic byproducts like anthrax. Again, trendy identity qualifiers. Woah to the kids who actually eat burgers with their fries!

My own children have a mom who was rarely allowed to dislike any foods; I sneered at spinach for the bitter scummy feel it left on my teeth, and I had to eat it anyway; now I actually love it. I was reared by a Mom who almost always served a meat and three, along with a starch, while we travelled the world with an Air Force Dad; we children pretty much ate everything and liked it. But my own boys have a Dad whose pickiness was catered to: his mother served him “eggs and chips” whenever the rest of the family was enjoying a curried shrimp or a wine soaked rabbit. He wanted me to allow the same avoidance in our own children. When my oldest son squirmed at the veins of a chicken leg, his father defended him rather than point out how rude it was to reject the food we had paid for, and I had worked hard to serve.

Not that I condone guilting kids into eating. But what happened to acceptance and etiquette? Instead, their Dad (my ex) expected me to either cook several meals depending on the current wishes of each member of the household, or make eggs and chips every damned night. I fought this battle hard, and luckily my sons now have broader palettes than their father. But to give him some credit, though he still eats with a sniff and a sneer at many home meals, with his British roots showing, he learned to be politely accepting of whatever a hostess serves him when he leaves his own home.

Not so with, it seems to me, everyone else I know. . .

And like I said, I am certain that much of it is some sort of mass identity crisis. We have a friend who is a tier in the fruit-chewy, vitamin-pyramid trend out west. On a camping trip to Yosemite, while the rest of us enjoyed whatever the chow meister served, she was forcing greens on us through sweet green candies. All I saw her eat were these gummies. So just how does one gummy bear, provide all the nutrients, anti-oxidants, calories, and fiber of a nice, roasted crown of broccoli? And how are these different from store bought vitamins? Don’t ask her, or she’ll paper you in jumbled reports from labs (paid for by the company she represents. . .)

Most of all, she will come close to convincing you that she feels transcendent after a rainbow of chews. This diet defines her. I won’t even bother describing her negativity about our fireside S’mores, the anti-sugar personality is so recognizable and rampant amongst us.

As is the gluten free personality. It is so prevalent that even my bag of Almonds advertises itself as gluten free in order to make itself more marketable. (I love Seth Rogan’s interview with Terri Gross, where he pointedly makes her feel awkward about her avoidance of gluten. Track it down if you can) Yes, there are people who truly can’t handle gluten, just as some people can’t survive a bee sting. But for those of us who are not allergic, it has no ill effects. I know there are popular reports that defy my statement. Just as there are many that support it.

But just what makes so many people so willing to turn away from a grain that has carried humanity through millennia of its survival? Think Djokovic, the tennis phenom who, when he gave up gluten, was unstoppable on the majors track. Maybe if we give up gluten, we too will be and feel more god-like. (Never mind that he suffers Asthma, IBS, and a number of allergies, specifically to gluten, where many of us do not.).

Enter the Vegan. A choice that could be respectably a moral one, a physical one, or. . .as I am lamenting here, a personality. An identity. Sometimes it’s the victim voice, sometimes it’s the superior voice they use when the rest of us eat steak while they enjoy a grilled portabello, but either way, it is quite a vocal banner they wear. “Look at me, I’m a Vegan!”

Overall, I watch so many people I know (more often women than men) jump on these bandwagons for what they say is their health. But it feels very much as if they are seeking a new self, hoping for miraculous change. A friend of mine stuck to a gluten free, vegan month. She was hoping for something notable, some new vigor, dare I say, a whole new woman. She challenged herself and at the end of the month, she returned to lobster and filet and said: “Thank God, I am me. Take the last five years off my life. . .I’d rather have cheese.” She didn’t find a new her, but embraced herself.

Now my point isn’t that sugar, animal fats, salt, gluten, red dye number 666, are fine. Of course most of us will feel better if we enjoy moderation and daily exercise. Instead, I am arguing that abstinence is often trendy and over-controlling of others.

Bowl games 2014. I am often the cook for gatherings of friends, partly because I am good at it; mostly because few others cook (which is a topic for a later blog). I try very hard to create a menu that pleases people and meets their needs.

My sister-in-law has a shifting, never quite cemented, long list of foods she cannot (read:will not) eat. No meat (which may or may not include fish) No sugar. No soy. No Dairy. (unless she goes to Steak n Shake where she will completely ignore these rules, though she fully expects me to comply at all times. I love her, so I try.) My mother can no longer eat fish. My brother-in-law avoids red meat and sugar and cheese. A dear friend is sometimes Kosher. His wife is gluten free. My husband and I joke about another friend’s love life; our first question is always what is the latest woman in his life free of? Probably carbs, to round out our menagerie of “There’s nothing left to eat” fools.

One party where my fish-free Mom came, too. I wanted to make something warm and hearty ahead of time. We served chicken chili, gluten free corn muffins, a salad. I had already asked my SIL what I could make her, and she said not to worry. The people who were to bring a sugar free dessert “forgot”. The gluten free woman “really didn’t like chicken” so wouldn’t eat the chili The one for whom I made it in the first place because he loves chicken chili, enjoyed it, but also whined: “You know, if you had used soy crumbles then maybe______could eat it, too.” Whaaat, she CAN eat soy? I thought she couldn’t. I was offended.

Next party. Fish-free Mom wasn’t coming. I decided on shellfish stew, red based, since a few couldn’t/wouldn’t handle a cream base(though we all know a lobster bisque with sherry and cream is to die for). I chose this for my SIL, (no meat, no cream) who then wouldn’t eat it because the broth just wasn’t one of her faves (though she eats tomatoes, drinks tomato juice, and eats tomato sauce). I ended up grilling her fish and veggies (same ingredients from the stew).

At a gathering in the mountains, a guest didn’t eat asparagus because of the pee-changing effects. Another likes chicken, but not from the grill, could I pop theirs in the oven?

At a brunch last weekend held in honor of an out of town guest, addressing everyone’s issues, but also choosing something that didn’t require me to stand at the stove, I made a seafood quiche, using shrimp and crab,( SIL faves), and Eggs Beaters (to help the BIL’s cholesterol). I left off cheese on half of it since SIL can’t handle dairy, but a few of us embrace cheese. I also said-screw it-and made butter and sugar-laden cinnamon rolls from scratch. And I served fresh fruit, which was almost ignored.

Well. . .BIL sighs: quiche is not his favorite, but he’d eat it. Dairy-free SIL-happily and knowingly serves herself the side with cheese, which doesn’t leave enough for the cheese eaters. The cheese eaters had to take a cheese free slice.. But SIl also moans about eggs. . .another of her possible no-no’s.

And EVERYone devours the rolls, the anti-sugar, anti-gluten, anti-dairy alike.

The only thing consistent with our guests is their inconsistency.

I give up. I told my husband I am no longer cooking for friends and family. I cannot meet their needs obviously, and these typically sweet people allow their FOOD IDENTITIES to overrule etiquette and manners to the point of rudeness, and even confusion. And for what? To belong to some trend? To feel superior?

Just when I reached that boiling point, I saw an Easter Dinner commercial from Walmart. Two women are setting a table. One remarks about place cards. The hostess explains how she has to strategically place the vegan, the meat carver, the gluten free, and the sugar free away from or near certain foods.

If Walmart can mock this food identity issue, it must be so common place, that I am not the only cook suffering this silliness. The fact that guests now believe it is okay to treat hostesses like restaurants is a true problem. I am finished with asking people what they prefer to eat. I don’t care what your relationship to food and your God is. Take the initiative to tell me if there is a food that will cause you to swell and die in under 2 minutes, and I won’t kill you. Otherwise, bring your own dinner, host your own parties, or eat my food without a peep.