An Ode to Food Allergies

I love food. I will eat anything and everything in sight. Especially in Italy, I'm in heaven. The Italians really know how to eat. Huge shoutout to my metabolism on this trip, couldn't have done it without you. But just like everyone else, there are certain types of food that I shy away from eating. Not because of "I don't like the texture" or "I don't like the taste" but "I don't like it when my throat closes up." (Fair warning, ladies and gents, this is a more introspective and serious blog post.)

I was diagnosed with nut allergies when I was about three years old, and since then my list has expanded to include several fruits and vegetables. I've always grown up thinking that my food restrictions were completely normal. My mom has the same allergies that I do, and my sister is a picky enough eater that you would assume she had some kind of food restriction. (Michelle sticks to three main food groups: potatoes, pasta, and chick peas.) Family dinners never consisted of any peanuts or tree-nuts, but I never felt like I missed out. On the contrary, I felt bad for people who don't get to experience my family's cooking.  Our Pierogi's are legendary.

Now that I'm 20 and slightly wiser, I've realized that nut-free kitchens are not the norm. As I got older, I started noticing the special treatment and (sometimes unwanted) attention that came along with my food allergies. My teachers in grade school had a "safe snack" in the classroom for me whenever the other kids brought in nut-ridden birthday cakes. The nurse in high school had my Epi-Pen on file just in case I was ever careless enough to eat a peanut. I was given "special" accommodations in college, namely: a car and a kitchen. I loved these accommodations and really appreciated it whenever people took the time to understand my allergies. However, I never liked the social stigma of being "that girl with the food allergies." Especially in grade school, my peers made it seem like I was allergic to everything. To this day, I wish I had a dollar for the amount of times that people have asked me, "so what CAN you eat?"

Accommodations can only do so much, and eating is not as easy as pie. My first obstacle came last summer when my roommates and I moved into an apartment with a kitchen. Almond milk was the new food craze. I felt so guilty about compromising with the girls about what they could and couldn't have in the apartment. However, because they're fantastic people (hello penthouse ladies!), they made accommodations for me and were careful about what they ate. For that, I am eternally grateful. But even so, I felt guilty for some reason. I couldn't understand why I kept apologizing when my allergies weren't my fault. I didn't ask for this, and I don't think anyone would.

I've never complained about my allergies before, but 20 years of checking labels and you start to wonder: "why me?" Despite careful shopping and menu reading, I'm at risk of having an allergic reaction during every meal. (And even one time in the middle of a morning run. Thank you for rescuing me, Cape Cod EMTs, but I hope to never see you again.) I can't imagine what it would be like to have a food allergy without proper access to health care or proper education on how to manage what you eat. I'm privileged when it comes to medical care, but even I slip up, sometimes. Knock on wood, I've only had three substantial allergic reactions in my 20 years of life, one of which was my initial diagnosis. Those odds are pretty good. I'm lucky enough that my allergy isn't extreme, so "may contain" labels mean nothing to me, and "processed on the same equipment" is simply a way to avoid lawsuit. My allergies are easily manageable and not a big deal, but they're still a significant part of my life.

As I start my second week in Italy, my attitude on food allergies has evolved once more, this time for the better. I stopped seeing my allergies as a disabler and I'm starting to finally accept them as part of the cross I have to carry. When picking an abroad program, I could only travel to European countries because the diet is quite similar to what I eat at home. Before I left for Rome, I had to pack extra Zyrtec, Benadryl, EpiPen, AuviQ, the list goes on and on. Most kids pack bathing suits when they go to the Amalfi coast, I pack anti-histamines. This is my normal. Every time I eat, I take a small risk. I choose carefully, ask questions, carry Benadryl, and learn the warning signs. My food allergies are not a reason to give up on experiencing life and shy away from traveling. Granted, asking for ingredients is a pain in the butt, especially in another language, but I can handle it. I need food to live; everyone does. So I can't eat almonds, life goes on. No one has to be sorry, including myself.

Truthfully, if I had the opportunity to get rid of my allergies, I don't know if I would take it. Managing my health has become an integral part of my life. I've mastered the fine art of ordering at restaurants (in English, Italian, and German), cooking (thanks for teaching me mom!), and shopping for food. It can be annoying to be careful, but it's better than the alternative.

At PC, I declared a Health Policy Management major. Your guess is just as good as mine when it comes to where that major will take me in life. But now I'm starting to think that I can channel it towards diet and nutrition. I love food, so I might as well make a career out of it. Maybe I can use my life experience and culinary skills to one day help other people, especially kids, to manage their food restrictions. I think it's about time that I accepted my version of normal and celebrate just how far I've come. I've beaten all of the odds, and I'm proud of that.

Ciao,

Sue :)

Content with my carbs. No pasta left behind.