After three years of suffering, I finally managed to convince my doctors that I wasn't just making up the pain and misery I felt after every meal. I was having all the hideous, godawful pain of gallstones, and no actual gallstones. So, they'd run the same two tests on me, over and over, never finding gallstones and passing me along to a new specialist. They finally took that little rat bastard out, and I've healed nicely from the laparoscopic procedure. I can finally eat regular food again! The problem I was having was that my gallbladder wasn't emptying of bile. Any foods could trigger an attack, and often did. Broccoli, pineapple, bread, corn, milk. Essentially, all dairy products, most vegetables, most fruits, most meats, and most grains. Every meal was like playing Russian Roulette, only I didn't know how many chambers were loaded.
So now that the nightmare is over, I'm so happy! I only wish I had thought to ask for my gallbladder. I'd keep it in a jar, and every once in a while I'd glare at it, call it a useless motherfucker, and shake it around in its jar, and make it seasick. Asshole.