When my husband was still a small baby in Norway, he was diagnosed with Celiac Disease, and was brought to the hospital in Oslo as a last resort. His parents were both surprised and pleased that he survived and was able to come home. After a few years of a gluten-free diet, gluten was reintroduced, and he grew up. I met him when he was a skinny 19-year-old. At 5’9″ he was only 125 lbs, and stayed that way for at least the next 10 years when he began to put on weight. I often thought he wasn’t as healthy as he could be, and wondered if he was still Celiac. The doctors said he wasn’t, though none of them bothered to do any tests. Now that he’s in his mid-fifties, a doctor finally was willing to do the tests, and have confirmed that he is indeed Celiac. I don’t know if that means he has always been Celiac, or not. All I know is that I am about to embark on an adventure in the kitchen.