Gastroparesis: My Stomach’s Union Strike

You know what’s fun? Having an organ that just… quits. No two-week notice. No training a replacement. Just straight-up walks out mid-shift. That’s gastroparesis in a nutshell — a stomach that only “stomachs” when it feels like it, and digesting food normally? Not happening.

Gastroparesis literally translates to “paralyzed stomach.” Instead of food moving along like it’s supposed to, it hangs out. The best description I’ve ever been given? Picture how a snake constricts to digest its food. That’s what your insides are supposed to do. Mine? Not so much. The food just… sits there. For hours. Sometimes days.

And the only relief? Medication, vomiting, and the occasional crying session.

So, How Did I Get So Darn Lucky?

Some people get gastroparesis from diabetes. Others develop it after surgeries, viral infections, or — apparently — just for fun.

For me, it’s most likely another “gift” from my vasculitis, which loves throwing spit darts at random organs just to see what sticks. Inflamed blood vessels? Check. Angry kidneys? Yup. Stomach problems galore? Abso-freaking-lutely.

My body apparently considers digestion an optional feature. Spoiler: it’s not.

Daily Life with Gastroparesis (aka: Hell)

Small disclosure before this description. I definitely have a mild case of Gastroparesis compared to some people. Some people have it even worse than my experience. So those of you who can relate, and some, I hate that you have to live with this. It’s so hard. But you are not alone. So if this sounds like your day with this disorder, hug yourself from me. Okay, now you can proceed.

• Meals are unpredictable. I might eat grilled chicken on Monday and be fine. Eat the exact same thing on Wednesday? Suddenly, nope. Or I’ll enjoy it at 1 PM and want to throw it across the room by 3 PM. Consistency does not exist here.

• Full after two bites. Deciding if someone with gastroparesis is hungry is basically quantum physics, and I am NOT a quantum physicist. I could be quite starving or full after a sip of water and unable to eat for hours. There is no happy medium.

• Nausea: the main villain. I’ve stopped asking if I’ll feel nauseous. The only question is: how bad will it be today? On good weeks, my medication helps enough that I get a few nausea-free days. Other weeks? I’m on a first-name basis with the bathroom floor or a trash bag.

• Food rules. Low-fat, low-fiber, soft foods only. Basically, my diet is what you’d serve at a daycare — except I can’t even have the good snacks. And let’s not forget my other health issues that slap even more restrictions on what I “should” eat. It’s an endless loop, and I quite frankly should probably see a dietician or something. Because what I’m gathering is I can have water, and that’s only when I’m not vomiting.

  
  

And please, for the love of all things good in this world, stop suggesting smoothies. Nothing screams sadness like drinking liquefied food through a straw. I’m a textures girl. I need substance. I need to chew. I’m a carnivore! (No offense, vegetarians. I tried your lifestyle once. It’s just not my thing.)

Food deserves to be chewed. End of blog.

Gotcha!

Bonus Round: When Gastroparesis Passes the Baton to My Other Conditions

Here’s the kicker: gastroparesis doesn’t just make eating hard — it makes everything harder.

• Meds don’t absorb properly. The pills I need to keep my vasculitis, rheumatoid arthritis, and kidney issues in check? Stuck in stomach purgatory, dissolving whenever they feel like it. Sometimes I absorb too much at once, sometimes not at all. It’s Russian roulette — but with my immune system, and I have way too much anxiety for that lifestyle.

• Fatigue on steroids (literally). Malnutrition + strong meds like Mycophenolate + a dash of Prednisone = a lousy combination where my body doesn’t heal properly, and I’m left exhausted, no matter how long I sleep. I’m overweight but also malnourished. Don’t ask me how I’ve accomplished both, I owe it all to Gastroparesis dictating what and when I can absorb things properly.

• Symptom domino effect. Gastroparesis flares make my autoimmune conditions worse, which then makes the gastroparesis worse — a vicious, endless loop. Depending on which ER doctor I get, it’s either “your vasculitis caused this flare” or “gastroparesis made the vasculitis flare worse.” Honestly, at this point, it’s just my normal.

  
  

Why Awareness Matters For Us

August is Gastroparesis Awareness Month — which sounds cute until you realize how invisible this illness actually is. You can’t exactly Instagram a paralyzed stomach. And people love throwing out helpful gems like, “Just eat less,” or “Have you tried ginger tea?” Yes, I have tried all the things. It won’t fix this. I didn’t accept defeat; I just accepted Gastroparesis.

And yes, this post is a little late. Why? I don’t have a good excuse, but hey, if gastroparesis makes me digest things late, then this post can be digested a little late, too. It’s about acceptance here.

But honestly, I’ve been exhausted. From what? Life. Breathing. Existing. Pick one.

Gastroparesis is life-altering. It impacts nutrition, medication absorption, energy, and mental health. For me, it’s the cherry on top of an autoimmune sundae — except I can’t eat the sundae.

Okay, fine. Therapist brain activated: technically, I can eat the sundae… if I’m okay with paying for it until next Sunday. Everything I eat requires a cost-benefit analysis. Sometimes the math doesn’t math.

Living Life with a Rebellious Stomach and a Strong Will

Some days I laugh about it. Other days, I want to abandon ship and hide. But here’s the thing: you can either let your stomach’s tantrum break you, or you can drag it along for the ride and make fun of it in blog posts on the internet.

So yeah, my stomach doesn’t work. My meds don’t always work. But my sarcasm? Fully functional.

And for now, that’s enough.

Disclaimer: This site shares personal experiences and educational content. It is not a substitute for therapy or medical advice.