When they discharged me the first time, in May 2023, I went home with a sheet of paper and a vocabulary I didn’t have. Necrotising. EPI. Lipase. A fat target nobody converted into food.
Everything I’ve built this month is aimed at that gap. Here’s what’s live.
A free 7-day meal plan
The whole week, 19 pages, with a photograph of every meal and the fat and calorie count beside it. Breakfast, the two snacks, lunch, dinner and the pre-bed snack. It sits around 20 to 30 g of fat a day, the number my hospital dietitian gave me.
It comes in four editions so you’re not doing arithmetic while you’re ill: A4 or US Letter, grams or cups. Get it on the meal plan page, or join the free community and download it there without the email step.
If you want the actual recipes, with methods and weights, the full 48-page 7-Day Meal Plan with all 39 recipes is $14.99. The free version gives you all seven days on purpose. Three sample days would have been useless to me in week one.
Pancreatitis, in plain words
54 terms, explained the way I wish someone had explained them to me. What’s on your discharge papers, what the tests and the numbers mean, and what comes after: enzymes, blood sugar, type 3c diabetes.
It’s free in the community as a three-lesson course, with a 5-page printable you can take to your next appointment. The last page has a table for your own numbers and seven questions worth asking.
The safe foods checklist
Still free, still the most downloaded thing on the site. Yes and no lists for the foods people ask about most, in both paper sizes. It’s on the checklist page.
14 recipes, and three numbers I had wrong
Every recipe on the site now carries a photograph and the fat and calories per serving. More are scheduled over the coming weeks.
Getting there meant recalculating each one against standard composition tables, and that’s where it got uncomfortable. Three of my published recipes understated their fat. The oatmeal was the worst. I’d written 4 g. Made the way the recipe used to say, with 300 ml of milk, it is 10 g. So I rewrote it around how I actually make it, hot water over the oats first and a splash of skimmed milk at the end, and that lands at an honest 6 g.
Those are estimates from ingredient lists, not lab values, and I say so on every recipe. But they’re my best honest estimates, and I’d rather correct them in public than leave them looking tidy.
Why any of this exists
The book took a long, long time, and I thought that was the hard part. The work around a book turns out to be bigger than the book: the photography, rebuilding the printables so you can type into them, recalculating grams of fat, and finding my own mistakes.
I’m proud of it, mostly because it’s the thing I went looking for in that ward and couldn’t find: written by a patient, checked against the guidelines, and specific enough to cook from.
If you’re in the first weeks after an attack, start with the meal plan and the glossary. They’re free, and they’re the two I’d have wanted first.
The community is free to join and that’s where everything lands first.