Welcome back, fearless readers! As always, my brain has nothing to focus on between the time I lay down and when I actually fall asleep, so he writes elaborate stories, makes extravagant plans, wins arguments that ended weeks ago, then conveniently loses them by morning. As of late, the only thing that son of a bitch can think about is food, like Krispy Kreme donuts, deep dish pizza, and even salad croutons. In fact, he has put my whole body at war with me. He’s doing this because he knows I can never eat those things again, because he gave me Celiac Disease.

That’s right. I’m a full-fledged hipster; I am completely allergic to gluten. Now this part is kinda gross, but this is what the allergy does to me. I used to puke all the time. Like, three or four times a week for the last several months. And It wasn’t always vomiting. The dreaded “Emergency #2” was around ever corner. It was awkward, I never wanted to go anywhere I couldn’t instantly access a restroom. Going out to eat or drink became a nightmare for me. It became such a regular problem that just getting a car to drive 20 minutes set me on edge, because who knew when I would have to make an immediate stop.

So about a month ago, I let Morgan set up appointments and my fate was sealed. After several hospital visits, pokes and prods, I was diagnosed with Celiac, an auto-immune disease. The hospital visits suck, but seeing inside my stomach after the EGD was kinda cool.

My wife thinks this next part is pretty funny. As most of you know, I drink a lot of beer. I mean, I’ve been working hard on a brand deal with Pabst for years. But I can never drink good beer again (gluten-free beer is all IPA BS.) So now I have a reason to start relying on God again, as my main vice has been taken away. And here’s the kicker; I remembered my allergy milliseconds after taking the communion cracker at church! I had to go spit it out and rinse out my mouth in the middle of the service. I can’t even do church correctly!

This disease has been pretty limiting so far. As a writer striving to be like Ernest Hemingway and Jack Kerouac, most of my work has been fueled by bourbon and beer. I don’t want to focus too much on booze, but this is a serious setback for me. Like every other twenty-something, I love fast food, but I will probably never eat it again. Celiac feels more like an inconvenience than anything else.

Celiac is a serious disease, and there are much worse consequences than the occasional barf. My stomach and small intestine are riddled with ulcers, so food within my diet doesn’t always sit well. I am at a super high risk of stomach cancer, but so far all my ulcers are benign. So yeah, this might kill me. I am attempting to be at peace with this knowledge, that I have an auto-immune disease, I’ll always be an annoyance at restaurants, and that groceries are waaaaay more expensive (though I do get a tax break, but taxation is theft anyways.) I’m stressed out, slightly depressed, smoking too much and not eating enough, but dawn is coming.

With every conflict, there must be a resolution. And ya know what? I (physically) FEEL FUCKIN’ GREAT! I’ve lost over 5 lbs, gone down a belt size, and have only thrown up twice in a month. That’s a new record for me. It was so regular that I used to joke that I was always one bad cough away from a barf, and I finally don’t feel that way anymore.

Plus, the feedback I’ve gotten from my close friends and family has been nothing but supportive. Morgan cut gluten out of her diet, my parents and in-laws are finding healthy alternatives for when we visit soon, and only one of my coworkers snapchats me beer pics.

I am going to survive and thrive with this. If there is one thing I want y’all to take away from this, its that I’m gonna make Celiac Disease cool as hell, because it’s stuck with me for life.