A Reluctant Herald

The Change That Changes Everything, Part 2

Three months or so ago I had lunch with an old friend. At the time, I was a couple of months into the new eating plan I have adopted, so I had chosen the restaurant—a delicious local Mediterranean spot with an extensive vegan section to their menu. She had graciously traveled to my part of town to join me there, and much of our conversation that day centered around discussion of the new, "weird" eating plan my husband and I had adopted. 

I sheepishly, reluctantly told her about what we had done [begun with a week-long water fast] and what we’re now doing [eating what I called at the time “vegan on steroids”]. Even though Carole is a good friend who knows me well, I felt shy and silly telling her about my experience. (To this day, to discuss it with anyone makes me keenly aware that I must sound like a snake oil salesman pushing something kooky. I don’t prefer to talk about it much—sheepishly keeping it to myself—except when I occasionally feel compelled to shout it from the rooftops to anyone who will listen!) 

Those who know me well, or are in regular contact with me, know… simply because there’s no “not noticing” if you see me in the flesh. First of all, I am about 45 pounds lighter than I was before I started this… and I am in no pain. As in none. ZERO. (This still seems unreal to me, and probably wouldn’t really be believed, except that these people know me well, and they have walked with me through the challenges of unexplained chronic pain over almost two decades. So when I hike eight miles or take a car trip to Vermont, they know something is really, really different! Besides just the 45 pounds.)

I told Carole about the extended water fast that opened this plan. We discussed 'autophagy' and 'cell renewal' and all manner of medical-sounding things. I told her about the food we eat now. I told her about all the specific pains I'd had before the fast, including a daily pain in my right thumb and first two fingers and wrist, which had made writing and grasping challenging, and playing the piano nearly impossible. She told me that she had pain in the exact same spots—and had been wearing braces and supports to try to alleviate it—and that she actually had a doctor’s appointment the next week to see about next steps toward treatment. I remember saying, “Well, my friend, it sounds like it’s providential for you that we had lunch together today!” I was not really serious, though, because I knew she wasn’t ever going to do this thing that my husband and I were doing, even though she had the exact same pain in her hand that I’d had for months (and which had gone away on day two of the fast, never to return). My newfound energy, slimmer physique, and lack of pain notwithstanding, I just knew that no one was ever going to try this crazy thing. It’s too drastic, too counter-cultural, too all-encompassing. 

Turns out I was right… sort of. Carole told me later that when she left the restaurant that day, she thought, “Wow! She looks really great. And she feels really great. And no pain! Unbelievable! But there’s no way in hell I’m doing that.” 

Three days later, though, she called me and asked me for the names of some of the books I’d read about this way of eating. I took screenshots of the covers and texted them to her. And the rest, as they say, is history. 

Carole’s story is at least as unbelievable as mine, and takes us solidly from “I’m not really sure I believe you” to “This absolutely cannot be true.” But she gave me permission to share her story, too, so here goes.

One of the books I had mentioned to her was the old Fasting and Eating for Health that I had read years ago when Rachel had first eliminated the symptoms of her rheumatoid arthritis. I had pulled it back out and read it again, in preparation for our starting this new eating plan with a week-long water fast. Carole went to the library to try and get any of the books I had recommended, and—not surprisingly!—she didn’t find any of them. She did, however, find another book by that same author, Joel Fuhrman, entitled The End of Diabetes. Since Carole’s husband is diabetic—and since there were no other of the books I said I’d read —she checked it out and began reading it. She confessed later that her first thought as she began reading this book was, “This is the kookiest thing I’ve ever read, and this guy has to be a quack.” (I’ve never read that particular book, but his other book—and many others that I have read—absolutely seem impossible to believe initially. If they’re telling the truth, you think, it’s really compelling stuff. But you can’t imagine that if this is true, everyone in the medical community doesn’t know about it and isn’t advocating it... so you read on in this strange blend of curiosity, disbelief, elation, and fury. I can relate to her initial reaction!)

She quickly finished the book, then asked her law professor husband to read it and tell her if it was kooky. He did so, and agreed that yes, it’s kooky. “But why don’t we try it? So we eat mostly vegetables for three months! That’s no big deal.” They had steak for dinner that night and then began the new way of eating recommended in that book the next morning—and it was even more restrictive than our new way of eating because, as a diabetic, Doug can only have limited quantities of grains, even healthy whole grains.

I didn’t know that any of this was going on at the time, however, and only heard this story several weeks into their journey. I share it here, with her permission, only to broaden the list of situations and ailments that are helped by this lifestyle shift. 

They ate steak that night—the “last hurrah” of meat for what they figured would be a 12-week trial to “see how it goes.” And now... brace yourself! Because here’s where it gets even more unbelievable. 

Read Part 3, The Basic Eating Plan. 

NOTE: The information provided on the site is for educational purposes only, and does not substitute for professional medical advice. You should consult a medical professional or healthcare provider if you’re seeking medical advice, diagnoses, or treatment. I am not a medical professional or healthcare provider, and I have no professional medical, nutritional, or dietary credentials. You yourself are responsible for any risks or issues associated with using or acting upon any information or advice appearing on this site. 

Start the story at the beginning with Part 1.