Seamus Mullen posted a tip for making this 7-minute egg perfection on instagram a few days ago, and after listening to him on the Rich Roll podcast yesterday I was inspired to make ’em. I put ’em on top of a kale salad with shallots and leeks that had been cooked in ghee and hot sauce.

Perfection, indeed.

But let’s back up to the podcast for a second. If you or anyone you know/love is dealing with a medical condition, struggling in a bad cycle of pain > medication > helplessness, etc… have a listen. Seamus and Rich both know a lot about health and wellness and overcoming disease, and it’s not only inspiring to hear their stories, but you’ll probably learn a thing or two as well. I know I did.

http://www.richroll.com/podcast/seamus-mullen/

Now, to make the eggs!

Boil a pot of water, drop your eggs in, set a timer for 7 minutes, then plunge into a bowl of ice.

Done. Perfect gooey yolks.

Other times I like to challenge myself — make something I’ve never made before — pick a recipe with lots of ingredients ’cause the playing and measuring and perfecting of the flavors is soothing. I find cooking to be truly therapeutic.

Making these lamb chops with greens and salsa verde was one of those times. It was the first time I ever made lamb at home and it definitely won’t be the last. I don’t know why we always gravitate towards chicken, steak, and bacon, because lamb is delicious, too. I guess because it’s easy. It’s familiar. It’s going the breakfast-for-dinner route.

It’s fitting, then, that this recipe is from Seamus Mullen, from April’s Bon Appetit, because he is someone who has never taken the easy route. Those close to me know that Seamus, the award-winning chef, restaurateur, and cookbook author, is the reason why I went to see Dr. Lipman, who helped him get off all of his medicine and cure himself of rheumatoid arthritis (RA). He’s the reason I believe that health begins in your gut and why I no longer eat grains or sugar, and instead focus on healthy fats. He’s also one of the reasons why I am sososoclose to getting off my arthritis medicines.

Last year at this time, when I first met Seamus, and later, first went to see Dr. L, I was taking 14mg of prednisone (steroids) a day; now I am taking 4.

Four is so close to zero. But I still have a ways to go. Good health (and more specifically for me right now, getting off my medicines) is a marathon, not a sprint.

Seamus recently spoke at Mind Body Green’s Revitalize 2015, and in his talk, he mentions hearing about Ari Meisel, who cured himself of Crohn’s disease through a combination of diet and exercise. He said he saw Ari’s story and said to himself that if he can do it, I can do it. That sentiment resonated with me because the same thing happened when I first read Seamus’ story; I said to myself that if he can do it, I can do it. And I am so close.

If you watch the video (he starts speaking at minute mark :23) — and I hope that you do — you’ll hear him talk about making a plan with Dr. L for how they were going to get him better. He says that for the first time, “I went from being a patient to an active participant in my well-being.”

I love that — an active participant. So many of us (wrongly, in my opinion) believe we can go to the doctor, get some medicine, sit back, and let it work its magic. Poof, you’re better. But it doesn’t happen that way — at least not in my or most peoples’ cases.

So, Seamus, this one’s for you. Thanks for the inspiration (and the delicious lamb).

Okay, one foot and one boot, but let’s not split hairs. It’s progress! Progress that I’ve been waiting a long time for — to stand up straight without the help of a crutch, a husband, or a scooter. I’m trying to celebrate the small steps towards recovery (no pun intended) but I’m also a bit overwhelmed thinking about the long road I still have ahead of me.

I don’t just have to re-learn how to actually walk, I also have to re-learn how not to be scared to walk. I had been walking in fear for so long — at how bad the pain would be each time I took a step — that I now need to learn that it’s not going to hurt. That I’m not going do something to hurt myself. That I can and should just… walk.

It’s just another test in a series of tests I’ve faced these past few months. I’ve learned a lot about myself, but I’ve also noticed something — that we only talk publicly about the good days. All you see on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram are the celebratory moments. Like the day I came back to work on my scooter and felt so triumphant after doing my first traffic report kneeling on the upside down trash can. Or when I found a comfy enough spot on my brother’s couch when we were celebrating Chanukkah to take a cute shot of me and Brian’s ugly Eagles sweaters.

But the road to recovery isn’t just shaped by the moments of progress. I want to remember and document the trying times too, because I think it’ll make me appreciate the joyous moments even more so.

When the doctor told me he could fix me and that I would once again, one day, walk again without pain: I cried. I was relieved.

When the nurses got me all prepped and ready for surgery and I sat there waiting to be called in: I cried. I was nervous.

When I woke up on my couch the morning after surgery and realized the anesthesia had worn off: I cried. I was in pain.

When Brian pushed me to the bathroom on a swivel desk chair for what felt like the hundredth time: I cried. I was helpless.

When I left the house for the first time to go for my follow-up appointment with the doctor, and I realized I didn’t have enough strength to use crutches: I cried. I was exhausted.

When I fell getting out of the shower, landed straddling the lip of the bathtub, and Brian had to help me up: I cried. I was humiliated.

When I walked around our apartment yesterday for the first time since November, I felt like a scared, clumsy baby calf learning to walk for the first time. I crashed on the couch after and curled up in a ball. Brian snuggled up behind me and gave me a speech about how far I’ve come and how much better off I’ll be after the foot heals. I cried. I was grateful; I am loved.

As many of you know, I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis about 10 years ago and for a while, it totally kicked my butt. While I’m now much better — happier, healthier — than I’ve ever been, I still have my days. Sometimes my ankles hurt, sometimes my wrists burn a bit; there is no cure for RA so it will never fully go away. Still, this feels like a bit of a victory lap. One that’s a long time comin.

I struggled for years to find answers, which is why I love the response I’ve gotten from TV Dinner readers who are trying to manage their arthritis. They want to try new medicine, new diet, new exercise — you name it — and while I can only speak from my own experiences and what’s worked for me, I’m always happy to help. I answer every email and try to answer all your questions, too… so keep em comin. We’re all in this together.

I think you’ll learn a bit more about my story (and my crazy schedule/routine) from Judy DiEdwardo, who wrote a lovely piece to accompany the cover. So I hope you’ll check it out. And a huge thank you to everyone at the magazine, especially Bryan Vargo (Lifestyle and Web editor) who was the first to contact me, and the delightful Susan Siracusa (Creative Director). This is truly a very special honor.