Lupus Wolf in the Kitchen
By Jess Thomson
Jess is a former chef who became a food writer and recipe tester after being diagnosed with lupus – what she calls “the Wolf” (lupus means “wolf” in Latin). Here, she talks about why she’s ultimately grateful the "Wolf" taught her new ways to cook - and live.
The day I spilled my coffee was the day I knew something was really wrong. I’d grabbed the cup to take a sip without thinking, gearing up for another day working as a private chef, and my hand just gave out. It crumpled sideways under the weight of the mug, slowly and painfully, like it had lost all the bones.
I’d been cooking six days a week for four months since finishing culinary school, and now I went from chopping my heart out to not having the strength to open the refrigerator door. My joints hurt to touch. I was a chef who found holding a knife painful. The thought of scooping cookie dough made me want to cry.
A week after the coffee spill, I went to the ER, afraid of whatever was eating my energy, and angry at it for stealing the joy from my career. Three different doctors told me I had RA before I was correctly diagnosed with lupus.
I was mad at first, at her – the Wolf. With her, I would never be able to handle the day-to-day pressures of restaurant work. I had to slow down. She demanded naps, gentle walks and early nights. She certainly didn’t want me cutting butternut squash.
In years that followed, I adjusted. Once my medications kicked in, I was able to continue working as a chef, but only in the summers, when the Wolf took long vacations. Each fall she’d come back, teeth bared. “Slow down,” she’d say. “Slow down, or I’ll take you down myself.” When she woke up each winter, I stopped cooking, and started typing. Finally, I became a full-time writer.
At first the switch was heartbreaking; feeding others was what had made me feel most full. But slowly, I’ve learned that I can feed others almost as well through writing as I could through cooking.
At home, I cook differently now: chopping slowly, asking for help with jars and containers, and avoiding recipes with repetitive, small motions that aggravate my joints. The Wolf annoys me still – she hates making gnocchi and flat-out refuses to knead bread. But in some ways, she makes me a better cook, because I’m forced to enjoy my time in the kitchen more thoroughly. I stop halfway through chopping a boardful of rosemary because my hands are tired, and take a good, long sniff – instant aromatherapy. I take pleasure in stirring slowly. I cook more with my husband, and we talk and listen, and enjoy meals from start to finish together.
And for that -- for the way the Wolf has turned cooking into living and loving more carefully -- I thank her.
For more cooking tips, read Stock Your Pantry for Easy Cooking.
Get delicious arthritis-friendly recipes from celebrity chef, Sandra Lee
For the latest in lupus and other arthritis-related news, visit News You Need.
