Intolerance

Yesterday, at my (free) yearly check-up (Our insurance may have a high deductible, but I get to go to the dr's, dentist's, and optometrist's once a year for free.) I heard something horrifying:

Me: "So, I have a lot of abdominal pain, tenderness, trapped gas, etc. (I won't gross you out with the details)."

Dr. Dude: "Hmmm.... I think you have mild IBS."

Me: "Phew! Is that all? No big deal."

Dr. Dude: [reading my medical history] "Oh wait. I think you're lactose intolerant, too. Lay off the dairy, ok?"

Me: "WHAT?!?!"

This is bad news for me. I love cheese. I mean, seriously, you don't understand the strength of my feelings for cheese. My favorite foods are: cheese, cheese pizza, macaroni and cheese, cheeseburger, and cheese grits. Let's just put it this way: I have toyed with different cheese types as children's names (brie, gouda, limberger, velveeta). So, upon leaving the doctor's office, I did the natural thing: I proceeded to consume as much cheese as possible for the rest of the day. For lunch, I stopped at Noodles 'n' Company for a heaping bowl of macaroni cheese. Then for dinner, I dragged Kurt with me to Sam's Club for a steaming slice of cheese pizza. My digestive system made its displeasure known the entire day, but it was worth it.
While at Sam's Club, I stocked up on Metamucil (which apparently will help with the IBS) and Lactaid pills (in case I ever want to eat cheese or ice cream again). I got my pizza as soon as we arrived. By the time we left (approximately 5 hours later) I was starting to feel my stomach's first protests from dinner. I moaned quietly and subtly doubled completely over. Kurt picked up the box of lactaid pills. "Ummm... why not take one of these?" he asked. "No!" I said groaned, "I have to experience the pain. It will help me remember not to indulge again. And it will make me appreciate cheese all the more."

It made sense in my brain, I promise.