People follow the Keto WOE (Way of Eating) for a variety of reasons.

People follow the Keto WOE (Way of Eating) for a variety of reasons.

 

Naturally, the main objective is to lose weight, because it often works when nothing else has.

 

It works for me because of my PCOS (I make too much insulin so bad carbs aren’t my friends—even though they still attempt to trick me).

 

I’ve joined a few Keto groups on FB where regular people like myself struggle to maintain this WOE, look for recipes or just need support.

 

Like everything else on FB, or in life actually, there’s ALWAYS those few people who will have something negative to say no matter what.

 

The people who joined the various groups for the positive attributes took to calling them the ‘Keto Police.’

 

A few months ago, though, I came across a group whose administrator, Molly, made it clear negativity of any sort would not be tolerated. 

 

To become part of these groups, one has to ask so if you break the administrator’s rules, they can just as easily get rid of you.

 

I thought Molly was super cool from the beginning.

 

She encouraged us, let us vent, was there for us, the page has an all around awesome vibe.

 

Molly lives in Texas with her police officer wife and their young son. She started Keto because she had been extremely ill and gained a lot of weight.

 

It worked tremendously well for her, but she’s sick again.

 

About a week-and-a-half ago her wife, Lib, posted an update regarding Molly.

 

She had been in the hospital a few days.

 

Over the course of her hospital stay she had 3,000 mg of steroids (yes, 3,000) pumped into her to stop tracheal collapse (she previously had cancer of the trachea).

 

Out of the hospital she has to see her team of doctors daily to keep her out of the hospital.

 

Months of methotrexate with 60mg of prednisone failed so she received two double dose chest port infusions.

 

Unfortunately, it’s not working quickly enough to save her sight, hearing organs, etc.

 

Another medication, CellCept was added and given she may need plasmapheresis and other treatments she is TRIPLE immunosuppressed.

 

Her diagnosis is end stage relapsing polychondritis. She has systemic and retinal vasculitis and optic neuritis.

 

Said Lib, “There are obviously a lot more diagnoses that come along with all this but that’s the main thing. Her body has just melted from the inside out—broken bones, scarred tissue, organ failure, literally the craziest disease ever.”

 

From medication she’s developed medication induced pemphigoid which is blistering burns to all soft tissue.

 

She’s had 17 surgeries, two rounds biologics, one chemo, and five radioactive iodine treatments with three rounds cancer, one chemo and five radioactive iodine treatments with three rounds of cancer.

 

Yet, Molly says, “She ain’t goin’ out like that.”

 

Molly has been on my mind a lot.

 

She remains upbeat and encouraging.

 

I’ve only communicated with her via FB, but I feel as though she is my friend.

 

It would only be natural to think she has her bad days, mad days, crying uncontrollably days.

 

How could she not?

 

I’ve been in a funk for awhile.

 

I’m pretty funky these days.

 

In less than a week local people have suffered tremendous loss.

 

And, for awhile we, or most of us, will stop and think of our own mortality.

 

We’ll think how we need to live our best lives always. 

 

We’ll try to be kinder, less judgmental, happier, etc.

 

Then the memory of those who lost their lives will fade from the recesses of our minds.

 

We’ll relapse.

 

The complaining will resume.

 

We’ll fret and drive ourselves crazy over things of which we have no control.

 

We’ll convince ourselves we’re not good enough. 

 

The people we care about, although they reassure us at least a bazillion times, don’t really care about us, because how could they?

 

No one likes us.

 

How could they?

 

Something I’ve realized, though, unlike people such as Molly or those who tragically lose their lives in accidents or who face terminal diagnose, I DO have control of how I choose to live each day.

 

I DO have control of MY life.

 

I realize I’m not going to greet a new morning thinking, “Huh, well, heck, I’m 100 percent changed!”

 

A few of my issues are going to take some time.

 

I know I’m likable, but there are parts of me that tell me otherwise.

 

I know I’m cared for, but likewise, I have a little voice that overrides my confidence on a regular basis.

 

There will be good days.

 

Bad days.

 

Okay days.

 

But whatever comes your way, don’t be stagnant.

 

Go forth.