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Okay, so another day in the life of an author…who has gluten problems and food allergies and intolerances. When did this all get so hard? Well, truthfully, if my mother and stepfather had been diligent parents, it would have been hard (in a different way) from the beginning, but they weren’t. I’ve been allergic to milk since the day I was born. It almost killed me when I was a baby—my mother was sick and for the first six months of her life she couldn’t hold me, let alone breastfeed me. When they’d bottle fed me with milk, I’d projectile vomit so hard they were afraid I’d choke. I wasn’t ‘thriving’ so the doctor finally told them, “Don’t give her milk.”
My sisters (who were taking care of me) switched me to sort of nondairy formula, whatever might have been around back in 1961 (yeah, I’m admitting to being that old), and nobody thought to see if I had other problems. I gained weight and kept the food down, and they quit worrying.
But my body didn’t stop with the ‘let’s rebel against food’ stage. I had constant respiratory problems when I was a kid, chronic bronchitis, walking pneumonia, tonsillitis, colds, every time I turned around I was sick. I gained weight at the drop of a hat, and this was before junk food was common—especially in our house.
When I was fourteen, they put tubes in my ears to help them drain and the doctor told Mom they better allergy test me. Which meant 160 cuts on my back to go through two days of testing.
The results were unsettling. At that time, they didn’t test me for many foods, but of the ones they did, I came back allergic to rye, wheat, milk. And a host of others—pollens and molds and wool and all sorts of delightful things. Bird feathers and mice (yes, mice) among them.
Even though my allergy tests were there, in swollen bumps and itchiness, my stepfather believed that it was ‘all in my mind’ and proceeded on the idea that if you feed someone allergic to—oh, say wheat—more wheat and whole wheat at that—it will prove they aren’t allergic to it. So nobody explained to me that I shouldn’t eat these things, though it made sense on a gut level, and I was fed whole wheat bread and yummy big chunks of cheese…yeah, that did my body good. Not.
And now? My allergies have shifted, and years of eating crap I’m allergic to spawned a host of other problem foods. Some—allergens, yes, some—intolerances. All—problems. My diet feels so convoluted now that I need a fucking computer just to keep track of it.
But I’m one of the lucky ones so far. So far my allergies have not proved anaphylactic, but I’ve had symptoms. Tingling lips, tongue swelling a little bit, confused and disoriented. Can’t play Russian Roulette anymore with food. But I’m the first to admit, it makes it incredibly hard. And my sister has had anaphylactic responses and we’re allergic to similar foods.
If I were just gluten intolerant, just allergic to milk, it would be easier. But no, a host of other foods trigger my asthma, trigger painful stomach cramps. Which brings me to my post tonight.
When a restaurant offers a gluten free menu, and you order from that, shouldn’t they listen? Of course they should. Outback is usually pretty damned good, but tonight we ordered takeout from them and bingo…A) my baked potato was AWOL…totally missing in action (we found out all this after getting the food home). B) My steak was supposed to be gluten and seasoning free—I cannot have black pepper, it severely triggers my asthma.
I cut into the steak, figuring hey, sad the potato’s gone but it could have been worse…and then I take a bite and as my mouth fills with pepper, I think “Oh crap. If they screwed up on the pepper, did they mess up on making sure it was gluten free? A lot of those seasonings do contain gluten.”
In the end, I didn’t try a second bite. I left the steak for my husband for tomorrow. And tonight? I’m in the middle of cooking my dinner—which I really didn’t want to do tonight—and thinking about how some people just don’t understand that…hey, some foods CAN hurt you. And if I were anaphylactic, the one bite of pepper could have killed me.
Thing is…with allergies…at any time they can go from mild to deadly. I’ve played Russian Roulette for years with a few things, fudging when I had to, rebelling and eating stuff I shouldn’t. My lungs cloud up, my joints hurt, I ache, I get cloudy-headed, my lips tingle, and until I got a clue about how badly I react to foods like garlic, ginger, and yeast, I used to get stomach cramps so bad I couldn’t even stand up.
I’m disappointed. I wanted a nice dinner, I didn’t want to cook, and I figured hey—I won’t have to worry because it’s Outback. But from now on, when we eat there, we eat in the restaurant because at least there, I can send it back. I emailed them, figured better to go to corporate about it. When I hear back, I’ll let you know what they said.
Yasmine
3:02 AM
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