Dr. hands me a chart listing all the foods Maile was tested for and a rating of her reaction ranging from “no reaction” to “moderate” to “low” to “high”. Naturally as I looked over the lists my eyes immediately scanned the high levels and I was astonished to see she actually had scores in the high range.
I guess deep down I didn’t REALLY think she could have an allergy. Because I don’t. Allergies aren’t really in my family…we’re all just normal. And as I took in all the information that is what I couldn’t shake.
You mean…she’s not normal? My daughter’s not normal? How can this be? She’s not normal. How could she have less than perfect results?
And as the dr. rattled on about what to cut out and why and what alternatives there were and blah blah blah, I stared at the chart and felt my eyes well up. I instantly scolded myself and refused to be that crazy mom that cries at the dr.’s office after finding out her daughter has a simple allergy.
I nodded along, thanked her for her time and assured her I’d be taking all necessary measures to clear up my daughter’s skin. Then I got in the car and called Pat and managed to squeak out the words, “whelp she has allergies” before bursting into tears.
I’m composed now. I know things could be worse and that I’m over-reacting. But I have that right. And really…things can always be worse, I’m not going to go down that path. As it turns out Maile has high allergic reactions to eggs, rye, spelt (whatever the fuck that is), and my most feared wheat gluten and whole wheat and basically any kind of wheat known to man.
Wheat was my most feared because a gluten free diet is just painful. My kids are extremely picky eaters and the idea of cutting OUT the very little they actually EAT…it hurts my heart. And I can be a lazy parent. I have been known to swing through a drive through now and again for a meal on the go…now what? It means completely revamping the pantry and food choices currently in the house. It’s a lot of work. A lot of work hurts my heart.
I was going to pull all gluten and egg products from the shelves in my kitchen to give you an idea of what cannot be eaten.
But then I realized I was going to have to put all the stuff back and I decided to instead, show you what is actually safe to eat in my kitchen.
Pat was great on the phone, assuring me that it’s not my fault and that we just didn’t know and at least now we can do whatever we need to do to help clear up her skin. And while it does bother me that we did not explore this path earlier…and that I’m going to have design meal plans for Maile (and Kainoa). And that I’m going to have to weed out virtually everything in our cupboards and learn how to cook again. And that I’m going to be making multiple meals now, not just for my kids, but for the daycare kids as well. And that Maile has lived five years on this planet with bad skin and I’ve been shrugging my shoulders while shoving eggs and whole wheat sandwiches down her throat when I could have done this test years ago.
All of that bothers me. It’s true. But do you know what bothers me the most?? That Maile won’t be able to eat birthday cake at her friends’ birthday parties. That my sweet girl with the sweetest tooth you ever did see, won’t be able to dive into her Halloween loot or gorge herself on candy eggs Easter morning like the other kids.
I don’t want her to feel different.
And while I’m at it, do you know what else aggravates me? I’m not the type of person to lay blame for the sake of laying blame. I really think doctors are amazing people and do great work. But why didn’t Maile’s pediatrician or dermatologist ever suggest the possibility of a blood draw? She had an allergy test when she was a baby and everything came back clear. The naturopath said those tests are inconclusive and unreliable. Why wasn’t a different test ever mentioned?
Kind of makes me think those crazy-conspiracy minded hippies, who think the government is concealing cures in order to keep us paying for doctor visits and treatments, might not be so crazy after all.
Regardless. I’m ready to take this food allergy head on. I will become the best dang gluten free cook you ever did meet. People from all over the country, allergic or not, will ask me to host gluten free parties. I will give birth to a fourth child and I will call him Gluten. I will post bumper stickers on my car that say “Don’t Mess With Texas Gluten!”. And by “Texas” I’ll mean me. I will be Superwoman and I will annihilate gluten. I hereby, officially, without the support of the United Nations, declare war on Gluten and I will emerge victorious.
Amen.