“Take This Medicine With A Snack Or Small Meal If Stomach Upset Occurs” reads one of four warning labels on one of two prescription medications that are now part of my daily diet. That each word is capitalized sends a clear message to me: These Pills Are Going To Destroy Your Stomach. Usually I chase everything from muscle relaxers to painkillers to anti-inflammatories with a few spoonfuls of ice-cream. But torn labrums and broken wrists shouldn’t lead to weight and pimple gain. That’s why, this time, I’ve decided to monitor my food intake, see what works and what doesn’t to combat Stomach Upset, and, since I am indefinitely imprisoned in my apartment, I figured I could post my findings as a sort of Public Service Announcement. So, Welcome. This is Eat With Pills.

When I was growing up, my siblings and I had bedrooms downstairs while my parents were upstairs. Next to the master bedroom and bath was a room that was alternately for new babies (there are four of us), guests (it had its own bathroom), and sick children (again, there are four of us who normally slept on another floor). Not including the Great Chicken Pox Epidemic of 1982 (or 3) when we stayed in our own rooms, if you were sick with anything from fever to poison ivy (my specialty) to sleepwalking (also me), you were temporarily moved to the sick room.

That room, though closer to my parents, was scary. As soon as I entered that room I’d imagine the Lindbergh Baby Kidnapping – the sick (!) Charles Jr. snatched from the second floor (!) nursery; found 11 days later on the side of the road, dead from a fractured skull. Oh how that hurt my head. How could I be expected to rest knowing the risks involved. And my mother only made it worse by fueling my reading habit with Anne Morrow Lindbergh books. Obviously no one cared about my well-being.

There was a small TV in that room that we were told only got channel 13, PBS. Anyone who has ever watched nonstop PBS knows you get to see lengthy amount of fundraising efforts; quite an interruption of regular programming. One sick-time they broke me down and inadvertently convinced me to give.

I was probably nine, it was summer, close to my parents’ anniversary. The “gift” for a particular donation amount was two tickets to a Broadway show. I don’t remember the show now but know I absolutely had to get those tickets for my parents. I called the number on the screen and found out I needed a credit card which meant I wouldn’t be able to surprise them. I had to get my mother involved. I told her she couldn’t know what I was doing but I needed a credit card. Hmm.

Now I can imagine her horror and delight at my idea to spend twice as much or more on theatre tickets, but she allowed me to do it and even feigned surprise when the “gift” arrived though she no doubt needed to give approval to the operator who was standing by, but maybe not as those were simpler times.

Another highlight of PBS, and this brings me back to my present state of sickness, were the sing-songy Public Service Announcements. One of my favorites, a tune so catchy and memorable I can still sing it now, was the one about kids not eating pills. There were back-up singers who repeated certain parts of each line.

In my mind the pills have stick legs and are dancing but a friend of mine thinks they were little lumps. I have to do some research and find the truth. Another friend tells me they were pink!

In high school and college I mocked anti-drug advertising, not that I think smoking pot has made me any smarter but marijuana never hurt my little tummy. Years later, wiser with age and experience, I realize the problem: Some Drugs Give Other Drugs A Bad Name (Rep). And isn’t it interesting that the drugs that reek the most havoc on my body are the ones that are “controlled.” Wow am I getting off my planned track. I’m really not anti-establishment; I’m pro-comfort of body and mind.

Let me explain what, other than my aforementioned pill experience, makes me a trustworthy guide on your trip down protect-my-stomach lane: I am a pretty good cook. Not perfect, especially when it comes to baking as I am not a very good measurer, but good enough to satisfy most everyone I know. I’m not pretending what follows is profound, nor should you expect it to be, but you’ll like it and it will save your stomach and its lining.

I did actually go to culinary school (like night school for GED students – high school equivalency in case you were thinking GRE, which is, as you will soon see, another one of my issues). But I never did my “externship” in a restaurant since I couldn’t afford six weeks without a paycheck and since the school had conned me into believing they’d find me a position at a magazine; these were the days before everyone on the planet was a “foodie.” More important are the lessons on food, eating and cooking I learned from my parents and grandparents.

Also, thanks to a Continuing Ed type class and a cookbook reading habit, I know how to write recipes. That being said, some of the following recipes (at first) will have estimated measures or none at all. I’ll amend that later. And, I have a kitchen full of pots and gadgets, all carefully selected and tested for optimum performance.

I’m definitely not a nutritionist or dietitian but I did just learn that my good cholesterol is normal, bad cholesterol low, blood pressure low…only my joints and muscles give me trouble and that’s just because I don’t exercise enough and spend too much time sitting. Well, too much time sitting until The Day The Muscle Spasmed And The Disk Went Out Of Place. And that’s how we got here: The Herniated Disk Diet of 2005.

And by Diet I don’t mean Weight Loss, I mean what ate that helped me not want to throw up five minutes after taking one or more pills. And, don’t think you’re being snubbed just because you had knee surgery or sprained your ankle, this Diet is not exclusive to those with herniated disks; it’s for everyone on killer meds.

Finally, maybe if all of us had decent diets in the first place we wouldn't get so sick and injured. But, since we are all sick and injured, we should know how to Make Our Medicine Work.

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