A Special Teacher

Jean Thompson stood in front of her fifth-grade class on the very


first day of school in the fall and told the children a lie. Like most

teachers, she looked at her pupils and said that she loved them all

the same, that she would treat them all alike. And that was impossible

because there in front of her, slumped in his seat on the third row,

was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.



Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed he didn't

play well with the other children, that his clothes were unkept and

that he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy was unpleasant.



It got to the point during the first few months that she would

actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen,

making bold X's and then marking the F at the top of the paper biggest

of all. Because Teddy was a sullen little boy, no one else seemed to

enjoy him, either.



At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review

each child's records and put Teddy's off until last. When she opened

his file, she was in for a surprise. His first-grade teacher wrote,

"Teddy is a bright, inquisitive child with a ready laugh." "He does

his work neatly and has good manners...he is a joy to be around."



His second-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student well-

liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a

terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."



His third-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy continues to work hard but his

mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his

father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect

him if some steps aren't taken."



Teddy's fourth-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't

show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and

sometimes sleeps in class. He is tardy and could become a problem."



By now Mrs. Thompson realized the problem, but Christmas was coming

fast. It was all she could do, with the school play and all, until the

day before the holidays began and she was suddenly forced to focus on

Teddy Stoddard.



Her children brought her presents, all in beautiful ribbon and bright

paper, except for Teddy's, which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy,

brown paper of a scissored grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to

open it in the middle of the other presents.



Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone

bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-

quarter full of cologne. She stifled the children's laughter when she

exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some

of the perfume behind the other wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed behind

just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like

my mom used to."



After the children left she cried for at least an hour. On that very

day, she quit teaching reading, writing, and speaking. Instead, she

began to teach children. Jean Thompson paid particular attention to

one they all called "Teddy."



As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she

encouraged him, the faster he responded. On days where there would be

an important test, Mrs. Thompson would remember that cologne. By the

end of the year he had become one of the smartest children in the

class and...well, he had also become the "pet" of the teacher who had

once vowed to love all of her children exactly the same.



A year later she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her

that of all the teachers he'd had in elementary school, she was his

favorite. Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy.



He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class,

and she was still his favorite teacher of all time.



Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while

things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with

it, and would graduate from college with the highest of honors. He

assured Mrs. Thompson she was still his favorite teacher.



Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he

explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a

little further. The letter explained that she was still his favorite

teacher, but that now his name was a little longer. The letter was

signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.



The story doesn't end there. You see, there was yet another letter

that Spring. Teddy said he'd met this girl and was to be married. He

explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was

wondering...well, if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the pew

usually reserved for the mother of the groom. And guess what, she wore

that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. And I bet on

that special day, Jean Thompson smelled just like...well, just like

the way Teddy remembered his mother smelling on their last Christmas

together.



-- Author Unknown

The Fat Burning Hormone

You may have heard that eating before bed is a big-time "no no" for those looking to lose weight. In fact, you've probably even heard that eating late at night will undoubtedly cause you to GAIN weight...even worse!



Well, there's good news, and that good news is that not every food that you eat past 7PM will be automatically deposited to your butt, thighs, and love handles.



In fact, there are certain foods that you can eat as a late-night snack that can actually INCREASE your fatloss results! The key is knowing which foods to eat, and which to avoid, as the evening progresses.



Here's a good rule of thumb: Avoid carbs before bed in favor of slow-digesting high-quality protein.



Carbohydrate consumption causes significant rise in the storage hormone insulin, which also puts the breaks on fat-burning. That's a recipe for disaster in the late evening hours as your metabolism is winding down, but fortunately, slow-digesting protein isn't.



Instead, slow digesting proteins provide your body with a steady flow of amino acids throughout the night to help you recover from exercise and maintain your calorie-burning lean muscle as you lose fat.



Here are some of my top pre-bedtime choices:



1. Animal and Marine Protein (not red meat) - Animal and marine protein sources such as chicken, turkey, and fish are great pre-bed meal choices because they digest slowly and have a very low insulin release. These sources also promote the release of another hormone, glucagon, that assists the body with breaking down stored carbs and fat within your body to be burned for energy...a double win! Red meat has a significantly higher insulin response so it's best to avoid in the evening.



2. Cottage Cheese - Cottage cheese is very slow digesting and coats the stomach to be assimilated by the body over many hours. As a protein, it also stimulates glucagon release; a solid pre-bedtime choice. Just make sure you're using plain cottage cheese, not the flavored varieties with added sugars.



3. Green Vegetables - While these aren't considered a protein, they contain virtually no calories, are high in fiber, and they're very filling. Often times when I get a late night craving I eat a big bowl of green veggies and it completely kills my craving...a diet savior!



4. A Slow-digesting, Low-carb Protein Shake - I use a slow-digesting protein shake before bed literally every day. It's become somewhat of a ritual and great, tasty way to end my day. The vast majority of my clients have grown to love the habit as well...who doesn't love dessert before bed? :) I normally blend the shake with almond butter to get some healthy fats in there, and man, it tastes good with the right protein powder.



WARNING: Avoid taking a simple whey protein powder before bed...research has show



that it causes more of an insulin release than white bread! Instead, you need a time-releasesd blend that includes a blend of slow-digesting, high-quality proteins.



Source: Biotrust Nutrition

How Much For A Miracle?

Tess was a precocious eight years old when she heard her Mom and Dad
talking about her little brother, Andrew. All she knew was that he
was very sick and they were completely out of money. They were moving
to an apartment complex next month because Daddy didn't have the
money for the doctor bills and our house. Only a very costly surgery
could save him now and it was looking like there was no-one to loan
them the money. She heard Daddy say to her tearful Mother with
whispered desperation, "Only amiracle can save him now."
Tess went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its
hiding place in the closet. She poured all the change out on the
floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. The total had to
be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes. Carefully placing
the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out
the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall's Drug Store with
the big red Indian Chief sign above the door.
She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention
but he was too intently talking to another man to be bothered by an
eight year old at this moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a
scuffing noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with the most
disgusting sound she could muster. No good. Finally she took a
quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!
"And what do you want?" the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of
voice. "I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't seen in
ages," he said without waiting for a reply to his question.
"Well, I want to talk to you about my brother," Tess answered back
in the same annoyed tone. "He's really, really sick ... and I want to
buy a miracle."
"I beg your pardon?" said the pharmacist.
"His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head
and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a
miracle cost?"
"We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't
help you." the pharmacist said, softening a little.
"Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will
get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs."
The pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man. He stooped down and
asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does you brother need?"
"I don't know," Tess replied with her eyes welling up. "I just know
he's really sick and Mommy says he needs a operation. But my Daddy
can't pay for it, so I want to use my money. "How much do you have?"
asked the man from Chicago.
"One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered barely audibly. "And
it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to."
"Well, what a coincidence," smiled the man. "A dollar and eleven
cents -- the exact price of a miracle for little brothers." He took
her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her and said
"Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your
parents. Let's see if I have the kind of miracle you need."
That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon,
specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed without
charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well.
Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had
led them to this place. "That surgery," her mom whispered. "was a
real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?"
Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost... one dollar
and eleven cents....plus the faith of a little child.
- Author Unknown

Chiropractic and Pain Relief

Low back pain is a very common condition, and one that is very expensive for our health care system. Experts estimate that chronic back pain costs the US about $100 billion each year in direct and indirect costs. As the authors of a new study write:
“One factor explaining these enormous costs is the high rate of recurrence and chronic disability related to low-back disorders…It has been suggested that only 10% of LBP patients generate more than 80% of the total costs related to LBP.”
Because of the enormous costs of treating chronic back pain, prevention is an important goal. This current study set out to examine the role of chiropractic in treating chronic low back pain. The authors studied 30 patients who had back pain for at least six months. All patients were subjected to a one-month control period that consisted of no treatment. This was included so that the researchers could observe the natural course of the back pain symptoms.
After this baseline period, half of the patients (Group 1) received intensive chiropractic treatment consisting of 12 treatments in one month, then no treatments for nine months. The other half of the patients (Group 2) received the same intensive treatment, but also received maintenance chiropractic treatments every 3 weeks for nine months. At the end of the nine-month period, both groups were again examined.
After analyzing the results, the authors found the following:

• Pain levels were reduced in both groups of patients. The intensive month of chiropractic adjustments reduced pain, even without follow-up care.
• Disability levels, however, showed a different response. For the patients with no continuing treatment, the disability levels returned to their pretreatment levels on the Oswestry. The Group 2 patients – who received maintenance care – continued to see improvement in disability scores over the whole nine months.

The following graph illustrates the differences between the two groups on disability levels:

The authors conclude:
“This study appears to confirm previous reports showing that LBP and disability scores are reduced after spinal manipulation. It also shows the positive effects of preventive chiropractic treatment in maintaining functional capacities and reducing the number and intensity of pain episodes after an acute phase of treatment. Maintenance chiropractic care involving spinal manipulation combined with other treatment modalities (exercises, pain management program) should be investigated. Such combined interventions may have a critical influence on pain, disability, and return to work.”
Descarreaux M, Blouin JS, Drolet M, Papadimitriou S, Teasdale N. Efficacy of preventive spinal manipulation for chronic low-back pain and related disabilities: a preliminary study. Journal of Manipulative and Physiological Therapeutics 2004;27:509-514.

A Quiet Voice........

This little story reminds us to listen to that small quiet voice

from within -- you never know where it will lead you.

As a teacher of origami (the ancient Japanese art of paper

folding) at the LaFarge Lifelong Learning Institute in Milwaukee,

Wisconsin, Art Beaudry was asked to represent the school at an

exhibit at a large mall in Milwaukee. He decided to take along a

couple hundred folded paper cranes to pass out to people who

stopped at his booth.

Before that day, something strange happened -- a voice told him

to find a piece of gold foil paper and make a gold origami crane.

The voice was so insistent that Art actually found himself

rummaging through his collection of origami papers at home until

he found one flat, shiny piece of gold foil.

"Why am I doing this?" he asked himself. Art had never worked

with the shiny gold paper; it didn't fold as easily or neatly as

the crisp multicolored papers. But that little voice kept

nudging. Art tried to ignore the voice. "Why gold foil anyway?

Paper is much easier to work with," he grumbled.

The voice continued. "Do it! And give it to a special person." By

now Art was getting a little cranky. "What special person?" he

asked the voice. "You'll know which one," the voice said.

That evening Art carefully folded and shaped the unforgiving gold

foil until it became as graceful and delicate as a real crane

about to take flight. He packed the exquisite crane in the box

along with about 200 other colorful paper cranes he'd made over

the previous few weeks.

The next day at the mall, dozens upon dozens of people stopped by

Art's booth to ask questions about origami. He demonstrated the

art. He folded, unfolded and refolded. He explained the intricate

details, the need for sharp creases.

Then, suddenly, there was a woman standing in front of Art. Was

this that special person? Art had never seen her before, and she

hadn't said a word as she watched him carefully fold a pink piece

of paper into a crane with pointed, graceful wings.

Art glanced up at her face, and before he realized it, he found

himself reaching for the "gold-foil crane" he'd labored over the

night before. Carefully he picked up the gold crane, and gently

placed it in the woman's hand.

Art said: "I don't know why, but a voice told me to give you that

golden crane. The crane is the ancient symbol of peace," Art

said

simply.

The woman didn't say a word as she slowly cupped her hand around

the fragile bird as if it were alive. When Art looked at her

face, he saw tears filling her eyes.

Finally, the woman took a deep breath and said, "My husband died

three weeks ago. This is the first time I've been out. Today...."

She wiped her eyes with her free hand, still gently cradling the

golden crane with the other. Then she said very quietly, as

tears

streamed down her face. "Today would have been our 'golden'

wedding anniversary."

Then the lady said in a clear voice, "Thank you so much for this

beautiful gift. Now I know that my husband is at peace.

Don't you see? The voice you heard, it was the voice of God, and

this beautiful crane is a gift from Him. It's the most wonderful

50th wedding anniversary gift I could have received. Thank you

for listening to Holy Spirit within your heart."

And that's how Art learned to listen very carefully, when the

Holy Spirit speaks to him within, and tells him to do things he

may not understand -- now or even later.

Are you listening, my friend? God may be speaking to you.

-- Author Unknown

Removing Rocks..........................

A little boy was spending his Saturday morning playing in his
sandbox. He had with him his box of cars and trucks, his plastic
pail, and a shiny, red plastic shovel. In the process of creating
roads and tunnels in the soft sand, he discovered a large rock in
the middle of the sandbox.
The boy dug around the rock, managing to dislodge it from the
dirt. With a little bit of struggle, he pushed and nudged the
rock across the sandbox by using his feet. (He was a very small
boy, and the rock was very large.) When the boy got the rock to
the edge of the sandbox however, he found that he couldn't roll
it up and over the little wall.
Determined, the little boy shoved, pushed, and pried, but every
time he thought he had made some progress, the rock tipped and
then fell back into the sandbox. The little boy grunted,
struggled, pushed, & shoved; but his only reward was to have the
rock roll back, smashing his chubby fingers.
Finally he burst into tears of frustration. All this time the
boy's father watched from his living room window as the drama
unfolded. At the moment the tears fell, a large shadow fell
across the boy and the sandbox. It was the boy's father. Gently
but firmly he said,
"Son, why didn't you use all the strength that you had
available?"
Defeated, the boy sobbed back,
"But I did, Daddy, I did! I used all the strength that I had!"
"No, son," corrected the father kindly.
"You didn't use all the strength you had. You didn't ask me."
With that the father reached down, picked up the rock and removed
it from the sandbox.
Do you have "rocks" in your life that need to be removed? Are you
discovering that you don't have what it takes to lift them? There
is One who is always available to us and willing to give us the
strength we need. Isn't it funny how we try so hard to do things
ourselves.
-- Author Unknown

The Wallet

As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone
had lost in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find
some identification so I could call the owner. But the wallet
contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as
if it had been in there for years.
The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it
was the return address. I started to open the letter, hoping to
find some clue. Then I saw the dateline--1924. The letter had
been written almost sixty years ago.
It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue
stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a
"Dear John" letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared
to be Michael, that the writer could not see him any more because
her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would always
love him.
It was signed, Hannah.
It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the
name Michael, that the owner could be identified. Maybe if I
called information, the operator could find a phone listing for
the address on the envelope.
"Operator," I began, "this is an unusual request. I'm trying to
find the owner of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can
tell me if there is a phone number for an address that was on an
envelope in the wallet?"
She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a
moment then said, "Well, there is a phone listing at that
address, but I can't give you the number." She said, as a
courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would
ask them if they wanted her to connect me. I waited a few minutes
and then she was back on the line. "I have a party who will speak
with you."
I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone
by the name of Hannah. She gasped, "Oh! We bought this house from
a family who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years
ago!"
"Would you know where that family could be located now?" I asked.
"I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home
some years ago," the woman said. "Maybe if you got in touch with
them they might be able to track down the daughter."
She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number.
They told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they
did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might
be living.
I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that
Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home.
This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I
making such a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that
had only three dollars and a letter that was almost 60 years old?
Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was
supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me,
"Yes, Hannah is staying with us."
Even though it was already 10 p.m., I asked if I could come by to
see her. "Well," he said hesitatingly, "if you want to take a
chance, she might be in the day room watching television."
I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse
and a guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor
of the large building. In the day room, the nurse introduced me
to Hannah.
She was a sweet, silver-haired old timer with a warm smile and a
twinkle in her eye.
I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter.
The second she saw the powder blue envelope with that little
flower on the left, she took a deep breath and said, "Young man,
this letter was the last contact I ever had with Michael."
She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said
Softly, "I loved him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and
my mother felt I was too young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked
like Sean Connery, the actor."
"Yes," she continued. "Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person.
If you should find him, tell him I think of him often. And," she
hesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, "tell him I still
love him. You know," she said smiling as tears began to well up
in her eyes, "I never did marry. I guess no one ever matched up
to Michael..."
I thanked Hannah and said good-bye. I took the elevator to the
first floor and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked,
"Was the old lady able to help you?"
I told him she had given me a lead. "At least I have a last name.
But I think I'll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole
day trying to find the owner of this wallet."
I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case
with red lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said,
"Hey, wait a minute! That's Mr. Goldstein's wallet. I'd know it
anywhere with that right red lacing. He's always losing that
wallet. I must have found it in the halls at least three times."
"Who's Mr. Goldstein?" I asked as my hand began to shake.
"He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor. That's Mike
Goldstein's wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his
walks."
I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse's office. I
told her what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator
and got on. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up.
On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, "I think he's still in
the day room. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man."
We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a
man reading a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he
had lost his wallet. Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put
his hand in his back pocket and said, "Oh, it is missing!"
"This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could
be yours?"
I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he
smiled with relief and said, "Yes, that's it! It must have
dropped out of my pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a
reward."
"No, thank you," I said. "But I have to tell you something. I
read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet."
The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. "You read that
letter?"
"Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is."
He suddenly grew pale. "Hannah? You know where she is? How is
she? Is she still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me,"
he begged.
"She's fine...just as pretty as when you knew her." I said
softly.
The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, "Could you tell
me where she is? I want to call her tomorrow." He grabbed my hand
and said, "You know something, mister, I was so in love with that
girl that when that letter came, my life literally ended. I never
married. I guess I've always loved her. "
"Mr. Goldstein," I said, "come with me."
We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were
darkened and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to
the day room where Hannah was sitting alone watching the
television. The nurse walked over to her.
"Hannah," she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting
with me in the doorway. "Do you know this man?"
She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a
word. Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, "Hannah, it's
Michael. Do you remember me?"
She gasped, "Michael! I don't believe it! Michael! It's you! My
Michael!"
He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I
left with tears streaming down our faces.
"See," I said. "See how the Good Lord works! If it's meant to be,
it will be."
About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the
nursing home. "Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding?
Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!"
It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing
home dressed up to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light
beige dress and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit
and stood tall. They made me their best man.
The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to
see a 76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two
teenagers, you had to see this couple.
A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60
years.
-- Author Unknown

Flying Above The Storm

Did you know that an eagle knows when a storm is approaching long

before it breaks?

The eagle will fly to some high spot and wait for the winds to

come.

When the storm hits, it sets its wings so that the wind will pick

it up and lift it high above the storm.

While the storm rages below, the eagle is soaring high above it,

gliding with ease.

The eagle does not escape the storm, it just simply uses the

storm to lift it higher.

It rises on the winds that bring the storm into its world.

When the storms of life come upon us -- and all of us will

experience them -- we can rise above them by setting our minds

and faith toward God!!!

The storms do not have to overcome us.

We can allow God to lift us above them. God enables us to ride

the winds of the storm that brings sickness, pain, tragedy,

failure and disappointments in our lives, and make something good

come from it.

We can soar above the storm.

Remember, it is not the burdens of life which weigh us down, but

it is how we handle them that counts.

-- Author Unknown

Ask the Doc

Causes of Fibromyalgia?

 

Q: Dr. Moulas, what is the true cause of fibromyalgia?

 

A: Fibromyalgia is a disease that has multiple causes. In the research studies that have been completed on fibromyalgia patients, several major theories have come to light.

 

The first is that there has been an injury to the neck or upper spine, which triggers fibromyalgia by affecting the central nervous system. Another is that psychological stress is the cause. It’s even possible that disturbed sleep patterns for long periods of time can trigger the disorder. If your true cause is any of these, we can start making a difference in small increments right now, today!

 

Physicians don’t have a method of determining what is YOUR true cause of fibromyalgia, so we’re waiting for technology to come up with some valid tests. In the meantime, we already have solutions for injury to the neck or upper spine: chiropractic and healing the body from within. We already have solutions for reducing psychological stress. And we already have solutions for disturbed sleep patterns. Some of these solutions are in this report. All you have to do is embrace them! Get going on using them and your body will get going with the healing!

 

Low Blood Sugar

Carbohydrate foods are foods such as breads, pasta, cakes, cookies, candy, muffins, rice, beans, whole grains, tacos and tortillas. Starchy vegetables such as peas, corn, potatoes, acorn squash, and other winter squashes also contain high levels of carbohydrates. Milk products are another good source.

 

It’s okay to have carbohydrate foods in your diet, but limit them to a maximum of three or four servings per meal. Some people must limit them to one or two to become headache-free. Watching your diet for the number of carbohydrates eaten in any one meal can be a big revelation into why you have headaches. Too many carbohydrates cause headaches by raising insulin levels that lower blood sugar too fast and also increase inflammation in the body. 

 

Here’s an example of too many carbohydrates in a meal:

Oatmeal with raisins, orange juice, a muffin, and an apple.

 

You may think that the oatmeal meal is a healthy meal but it contains too many carbohydrates. The headache-free breakfast would be oatmeal with milk and an apple. You could even add an egg to this new meal.