Thursday, March 12, 2015

Rockamole

Just so I don't mislead anyone, let me just tell ya’ll up front I don’t have any formal training in diet or nutrition. Our family has been meeting with a dietitian regularly since my son was first diagnosed with type 1 diabetes at the age of 4.  He is now almost 17.  

I know that we all had to take health and nutrition classes in high school, but for some reason most of us really never take that information and apply it to our own bodies and our own lives.  When our son was initially diagnosed, he was in the hospital for about a week.  Much of that time his father and I spent attending intensive educational classes, trying to learn how to take care of our son before they’d allow him to come home with us.  And rightfully so.  We quickly learned that type 1 diabetes is the BAMF of diabetes. There is no cure.  There is no pill to treat or cure it. Exercise and diet don’t cure it.  Like most people, we were ignorant about the difference between type 1 and type 2 diabetes.  I felt like they were totally different disease processes. And the more we learned, the more discouraged we became. The only treatment for type 1 (BAMF) is lifelong insulin injections. 

My husband and I are both annoyingly positive people, so we naively rubbed our hands together and prepared to learn how to manage this BAMF disease. Looking back, I’m not sure if our naivety helped or hindered us more! Ignorance truly might’ve been bliss at that point.  If we truly knew the challenges that we would confront over the next 15 years, we probably would’ve been totally overwhelmed and incapacitated.  We learned so many hard lessons about BAMF by trial and error over the years. But in the beginning, the first and foremost goal for me and my husband was to learn the basics so we could take our son home, and hopefully not kill him. Since our son would require multiple daily insulin injections for the rest of his life, we had to learn how to give injections. I’d never stabbed anything with a sharp object. At least not on purpose! We practiced on oranges, and then worked up to each other, and then horrifyingly our own son, who was by that point cowering in the corner of the room in full blown tantrum mode whenever we approached him with any type of needle.  He began to cry when any healthworker walked into his hospital room.  His little fingers were swollen and sore from all the finger pokes. 

We then had to learn how to determine the amount of insulin to inject and when to inject it!  Since our son generally liked to eat daily, we also had to understand how much insulin to give him based on what he ate at each meal. We learned about insulin to carb ratios.  The dietitian worked with us to explain how to read labels on our son’s favorite foods. Sounds pretty straight forward, huh?  You ever attempted to actually read one of those aforementioned nutrition labels and then determine how your body’s going to process it?  Hmmm?  It might as well have been written in hieroglyphics. This is when I first experienced shock and awe by the misrepresentation of advertising on food products.  Then I became angry.  Food is very important to people who suffer from BAMF!  It’s not so much what they can and cannot eat. It’s more that they need to know EXACTLY what they’re eating sans misleading advertising.  The dietitian’s first rule was to ignore everything on the packaging and hone in on the nutrition facts which were usually in tiny print on the back of the product. Then we learned how to break the facts down into something we could understand. 

The first thing we looked at for every product was the serving size.  You probably think a can of Spaghettios is one serving.  It’s not.  You also probably think a serving size of Cheerios is what?  A bowl?  How big of a bowl?  Doesn’t really matter, because it’s not a bowl.  It’s not even a cup.  It’s ¾ cup.  Has anyone ever in the history of General Mills ever eaten only ¾ cup of cereal in one setting?  I don’t think so.  Maybe a mouse.  But in my limited experience with mice, they are greedy little furry creatures who wouldn’t be satisfied with ¾ cup either. 

This was our first introduction to learning how the food we eat is processed by our bodies. We learned it because we were forced to learn it in order to help our son. I wish everyone would learn it just because. It’s been invaluable to not only my son, but to my husband and myself. Stay tuned for more.  

In the meantime, as promised, here’s the recipe for my “Rockamole”.  I love your beautiful music, Jack White, but you can kiss my grits.  My fellow Oklahomans are welcome to use my Rockamole recipe any day.  


Rockamole
3 large or 4 small Hass avocados
1/2 t minced garlic
1/4 to 1/2 c of Rotel tomatoes(drained w/liquid reserved.  I like to add a bit of Rotel liquid for a smoother guac. If you prefer chunky, use less liquid, if any, and just use the drained tomatoes.) 
1/2 t finely diced red onion
1/2 t finely diced jalapeno pepper
Freshly squeezed lime juice (about 1/4 t) 
1 packet of Ortega guacamole seasoning
Handful of fresh cilantro, chopped
Dash of pepper

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