I Go Full Keto (Or Maybe Half Keto): Reflections on My Post-Stroke Lifestyle

I had a stroke a couple of years ago, which impaired my left side. I walk with a cane now, which is no fun, and my semi-functional left side prevents me from participating in a host of enjoyable activities.

Consequently, I've gained some weight. A couple of weeks ago, I determined to go on a formal, serious diet--the first in my life.

I was attracted to the carnivore diet that would allow me to eat nothing but meat. Consuming a lot of ribeye steaks, pork chops, and bacon--how hard could that be?

I did some Google research, however, and learned about some downsides. Joe Rogan, the famous podcaster, tried the carnivore website and reported that it gave him diarrhea.

Pretty severe diarrhea. As Joe described it:

It’s a different thing, and with regular diarrhea, I would compare it to a fire you see coming a block or two away, and you have the time to make an escape, whereas this carnivore diet is like out of nowhere, the fire is coming through the cracks, your doorknob is red hot, and all hope is lost.

Other people warn that a meat-only diet is exceptionally dull. Eating a ribeye steak every day loses its appeal over time, the carnivores say, although I'm skeptical.

I finally settled on the Keto diet--which is a "high-fat, low carbohydrate diet that aims to put the body into a state called ketosis" (whatever the hell that means).

I've been on the Keto diet for about two weeks and haven't lost a significant amount of weight. I feel better, however, as a result of giving up processed bread and sweets

I've also given up alcohol. which was difficult. I'm drinking nonalcoholic beer now, which is pretty good. Heineken's zero beer, in particular, is delicious and tastes like real beer.

Nevertheless, I've already found myself making compromises. It was impossible for me to get through the Superbowl last Sunday without a couple of brewskis.

I also found I can go only so long without a cheeseburger, and my religion requires that I quaff a Shiner when I eat that holy meal.

I decided I would enjoy a total of two alcoholic drinks on weekends and allow myself a weekly high-carb meal (cheeseburger, mothership pizza, enchilada plate, etc.)

Thus, I have not gone full Keto; I've gone half Keto. I'll let you know how it works out.

Of course, the other half of a weight-loss regime is exercise. I've resolved to walk a half mile four times a week, which I think will help me lose weight.

It is no fun living with the damage from a stroke. My duck hunting days are over, and I'll never crank another fishing reel.

There are compensations, however. With the help of my brother-in-law and a patient guide, I shot a deer last month in Alabama, and I'm feasting on low-carb venison meat.

To paraphrase William Wordsworth, nothing can bring back the splendor in the grass, but I'll find strength in what remains. Besides, the grass was not that splendid when I was growing up in western Oklahoma.

And Keto or no Keto, I'm gonna have a Shiner now and then.

Tampons in the boys' bathroom and deer hunting in the rural South

Deer hunting in the rural South is as popular as tennis in the Hamptons. Several Southern states have a traditional rifle hunting season, a bowhunting season, a season for hunting with primitive rifles, and a season for hunting deer with dogs.

Hunting deer with dogs is a brutal sport involving dogs that chase deer to the point of exhaustion and then attack them by the throat. Sometimes, a panicked deer will plunge into a river or stream, hoping to escape its canine pursuers, but the dogs go in after it and occasionally drown a deer before the hunter arrives on the scene.

In a video I watched, I saw a large deer with impressive antlers standing in water up to its neck in an ice-cold slough, wholly exhausted. A relentless tracking dog harassed it, lunging at its throat. The buck was too tired to defend itself.

A hunter, stripped to his boxer shorts and an international orange sweatshirt, waded into the frigid water and shot the deer with his rifle from a distance of about five feet. The deer made a last desperate lunge at the hunter, who shot it a second time. Then he dragged the deer out of the slough onto dry land.

I found myself wondering about this dauntless hunter's politics. I asked myself what he might think about tampon dispensers in the boys' bathrooms at his son's school. Perhaps the man has a high-school-age daughter. Would he be okay if a six-foot kid with a penis and hairy testicles competed against his daughter on the varsity girls basketball team?

Somehow, I doubt it.

Today, our Ivy League-trained politicians are poking the Russian bear, enabling Ukraine, where elections have been suspended, to invade Russia. Vladimir Putin has warned of a nuclear conflict. Meanwhile, President Biden is playing patsy with Iran, which has vowed death to America and Israel. 

Where will Americans go if we are plunged into nuclear war? Will we feel safe if we shelter in the Hamptons, where we can play tennis with the swells as we breathe radioactive air? Or will we be better off living down a rural Southern road from a deer hunter who will go to almost any length to bring meat home to his family and might deign to teach an urbanite how to hunt deer?

Deer hunting with dogs: Better than ice fishing with Tim Walz