Before I had a stroke, I already knew I needed to make a serious health change. I had a strict diet scheduled to start the day after my stroke. All the healthy ingredients had been bought for the food I would eat that week. That was too late. I had no idea when I woke up on March 3, 2019, that it would be my last day to walk. I left the house that morning not knowing that I wouldn’t come back home for 3 and a half months. I vividly remember walking into the church building where I was scheduled to preach that Sunday morning, and where I would ultimately have a severe hemorrhagic stroke, embarrassed about my weight. I am 5 feet 2 inches tall, and I weighed between 270 and 300 pounds at that point. I was so embarrassed to stand in front of a crowd of strangers at that weight. As they rolled me out of the church on a stretcher, I had two foolish thoughts: #1. There goes lunch with the pastor. #2. Fat guy couldn’t finish his sermon. What an embarrassment.
The first rehab hospital’s food was horrible. So, I stopped eating and dropped weight. Being in the hospital, unable to walk or move around, I felt like there was nothing I could control, and the one thing I had power over was my eating. So, I stopped. They served a lot of pork for dinner. I learned. I didn’t like pork. One meal I enjoyed came one Saturday, tamale pie. Growing up, I made a friend in kindergarten named David. We stayed best friends until Jr. High. One day I spent the night at David’s house. He proudly told me his mom was making tamale pie for dinner as if I would know what that was. Perhaps I was the first Latino he was having over, and he spoke of tamale pie as if I’d be familiar with it. I wasn’t. My grandfather was Mexican and an amazing cook. So, I knew of enchiladas, tostadas, tacos, chile rellenos, chile verde, and chile colorado, I knew of tamales but never had grandpa made tamale pie. No disrespect to David nor his family or his mom. But the brown people I knew didn’t make tamale pie. Apparently, it didn’t make it with our people from the old country. But it was good. It was one of the few things I was willing to eat in the first rehab hospital. They only served it once.
Right after my stroke, the hospital was very careful with what they fed me. Stroke patients struggle with swallowing and are in danger of choking. I remember sitting through the most basic class on swallowing safety. Because of this danger, all my meals were blended. One morning I was surprised by what they brought me for breakfast. I recognized some eggs and something I thought was oatmeal next to the eggs. It was brown and mushy looking. I put some sweetener on top as I would on any oatmeal. I took a taste and realized it wasn’t oatmeal but my morning toast, wheat. They had blended it for me. It wasn’t very appetizing. So, I shifted my attention to the eggs, only to find out saltless eggs weren’t appetizing either.
Around this time, I came across a verse in Job that perfectly articulated that experience:
6 Don’t people complain about unsalted food?
Does anyone want the tasteless white of an egg? Job 6:6
Not me! And people complain that the Bible doesn’t speak to our current realities.
Once I came home from the rehab hospital, my wife Sarah found a new life’s calling, getting me healthy. Armed with the research drive of a 4.0 GPA college student, she investigated how to get me healthy. I would not have another stroke on her watch. Not long after I came home my pastor friend asked if he could bring a faith healer over. I was a little skeptical, but I was desperate to walk again. I’ll never forget what the faith healer told Sarah and me, “God will give Sarah special instructions that will lead to my healing.” I want to be better, so every food change Sarah proposed, and there were plenty, I enthusiastically accepted. Salt has been minimized, and in most cases, eliminated. Our diet now sounds like a complicated order from Starbucks. We are whole food, plant-based eaters. It’s vegan but stricter. No animal products - no meat, or dairy. Little or no salt, no oil, and little to no sugar. And with the words of the faith healer ringing in my mind, I said, “No more pizza? Bring it on, Sarah! Yes, please. And thank you.”
Changes in meals started. I needed a change. I came to this sobering reality during long sleepless nights in strange rehab hospitals. Food had become too important to me. I was reminded of something my stepfather Ken said when I was young: “Do you live to eat or eat to live?” I needed to let that marinate my noodle to fully grasp it. Do I eat to survive, or do I live for eating? Had food become the meaning of my life? Pre-stroke, I wouldn’t even finish a meal without thinking about what I would eat next. Food was everything. I ate when I was sad, happy, celebrating, holidaying, birthdaying, or vacationing. It was how I comforted my pain, “I’ve had a bad day, I deserve…” Food habits were cultural too. It’s how we brown people express our lives. A lot of church culture is also arranged around eating together. I had a boss tell me once that he expected me to, “Eat like a man.” Having not grown up with a father. This confused me. Perhaps being a man is having a big appetite. That I could do. Pre-stroke I probably ate out around 50% of the time. I never went to the doctor. I pastored small churches, and health insurance was a luxury we couldn’t afford. So, when I was finally able to get insurance, doctor visits weren’t a habit I ever made time for.
Food and I have had a complicated relationship. At the age of 8, my biological father left the family. I remember having this overwhelming fear that we’d go hungry. I’d store up on meals like a bear before hibernation, afraid the next meal may not come. Don’t get me wrong, there was always food. We never went hungry. But I discovered something. I had a gnawing hole, perhaps from my father leaving, that I tried to fill with food. Food became my answer for everything wrong in the world. One Sunday, years before my stroke, I was at my parents’ house after church. My grandparents came by. I’ve always been close to my grandparents. Mom was a single mom in my early years so, we spent a lot of time with the grandparents. My grandfather especially was my hero. He had this special grace where he could tell you that one thing everybody needed to tell you, but nobody would. But he would, and you’d receive it because you knew his heart and you had the greatest respect for him. I went outside to either get something out of my car or put something in it. My grandfather called me to the passenger side of his minivan where he sat. He looked at me and with tears in his eyes, said, “Israel, I’m worried about your weight. I don’t want you to go through what I am because of bad health. I went into my parent’s bathroom. Locked the bathroom door and cried. I felt a mixture of his love and embarrassment for allowing myself to lose control of my health. That was the wake-up call I never woke up from. Many of my sleepless nights in the rehab hospital were filled with thoughts of grandpa. And this conversation that I never heeded. If only I’d made a change. Perhaps I’d still be walking.
I’ve had a gun pulled on me. I’ve been in a car accident on the freeway. Danger is everywhere in life. But I never considered that the thing that would cause me harm, wasn’t out there (out in the world), but in my own brain. That’s scary. It’s not something I could escape. My own health habits almost ended my life. Looking back, it wasn’t worth it. Tasty food is nice, and all, but I’d rather live with Sarah. We only have one body and one chance at life so caring for it is a smart move. We don’t want to be forced to act when it’s too late.
I’d like to share some practical things we can do to be healthy:
1. Eat well:
Half of my body is paralyzed. This makes exercise difficult. Sarah wanted to get me healthy, and she found by changing my diet I could drop weight. I came home from the hospital on about 13 different medications. I was miserable. All the side effects kept me drowsy and dizzy all day. By changing my diet and eating well, I was able to safely cut that medication list to 4. I don’t think we realize how much what we’re putting in our bodies (foodwise) can affect us for good or bad. By changing my diet, I was able to naturally get what medication was trying to do for me. And with a change of diet, I’ve also lost 112 pounds.
I used to eat to comfort myself. Coming home from the rehab hospital and facing my new reality was hard. Covid hit soon after. I found myself depressed and lonely with no rich food to comfort me. Let me just say, kale doesn’t comfort loneliness. I was forced to find new healthy ways to cope besides eating rich foods.
2. Exercise:
Exercise is difficult for me. But I listen to a lot of music and all music makes me dance (I can even throw in a quick boogie during a commercial). I can’t help it. I’m not good at it, but that doesn’t stop me. It’s mostly to amuse Sarah. There’s a lot of shoulder action. Mostly my right shoulder. My left shoulder is slow to the party, due to being paralyzed. It doesn’t know. It has no idea we’re trying to dance. It’s a sad demonstration. God created our bodies to tend the earth, be active and serve Him. That means we need to keep our bodies in good working order. A balanced diet combined with regular exercise can help us do that.
3. Learn to Laugh:
You may not know this about me but I’m hilarious. Laughter is healthy! People take themselves and life too seriously sometimes. At my church, we laughed as much as possible. I welcomed people to laugh at my expense.
Grandpa taught us to laugh. I’d walk into the room of my grandfather with his brother, Marcos. And it would be silent. I’d notice their shoulders bobbing up and down. They both laughed quietly. You knew they were laughing because their shoulders were bobbing, and they both made this quiet wheezing sound. They laughed a lot.
22 A merry heart does good, like medicine, But a broken spirit dries the bones. Proverbs 17:22 NKJV
The religious leaders in Jesus’ day accused Him of having too good a time in life. I imagine Jesus liked to laugh.
4. Rest:
My favorite rest happens in the morning. My morning pills knock me out, hard. I choose a movie to sleep to. Something about the conversations helps me sleep. It's February and since about November, I’ve been sleeping through romantic Christmas movies on streaming. I’m surprised at how many different love story themes they’ve come up with: average woman falls for a prince of a European nation I’ve never heard of during Christmas; woman who’s a cupcake baker finds love during Christmas; and woman who’s career allows no time for love but she finds love when she goes back home for Christmas. Sometimes rest is the most spiritual thing we can do. It's so important that God rested during creation. He stopped to take a break. Not because He needed a breather. He did it as an example for us. One of the 10 commandments is about rest. That’s one of the top 10. Rest is vital for better mental health, increased concentration and memory, a healthier immune system, reduced stress, improved mood, and even a better metabolism.
8 In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety. Psalms 4:8
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ReplyDeleteI need to try this tamale pie, seems interesting. I sure will rest after I've eaten it (as God said, right?) Good read cuz!
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