I slowly began to regain consciousness. The IV attached to my wrist started to sting. A machine next to me beeped rhythmically. The voice of a strange woman calling my name reminded me where I was. I tried to open my heavy eyelids. Blurry images materialized and I recognized my mother’s anxious face. I instantly remembered what I was doing there.
“What is it?” I asked her, suddenly awakened, hurried to know.
“It’s confirmed,” she said while holding my hands tightly, scared of my reaction.
I was relieved, almost happy. I finally knew what was happening to my body and it could begin to heal. I would soon feel better again.
“I am a celiac, I am a celiac,” I breathed to myself, allowing the information to sink in. I had spent the past few weeks reading every Web site, every blog I could find on the Internet about celiac disease. An upper duodenal biopsy confirmed it.
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