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    Living Life With Food Allergies

    Living with food allergies has made me realize that because there's always a possibility of me dying, my life should be filled with wonderful times, a strong faith, and great friends.

    I recently got married (yay!), and at both the rehearsal dinner and the wedding itself, there was a common theme from both of my parents. For the great majority of my life, they lived in constant fear that I might not survive the day. In the back of their minds, there was always the possibility that I wouldn't go off to preschool, that I wouldn't see my tenth birthday, that I wouldn't be able to drive, that I wouldn't graduate high school, that I wouldn't go off to college, that I wouldn't have the chance to be married. I realized how scary it must've been for my parents, constantly worrying that I was going to die from some mistake on their part or someone giving me a snack unknowing of my condition. Anaphylaxis is a little bit more known now that it had been twenty-three years ago, but I wanted to share my story with those who also experience these life-threatening allergies. You are not alone.

    I was three months old the first time my parents had to take me to the emergency room because I wasn't breathing. I was four months old the next time, and six months old the time after that (I lost count of how many times this happened when perusing my medical records). Each time my body was covered in red hives, my face was blue from lack of oxygen, my eyes were swollen, my blood pressure had dropped, my blood vessels had dilated--and each time my parents were scared out of their minds. The constant fear of their only child dying in their arms was with them constantly, and nobody had answers for them.

    Finally at fifteen months old, and many other trips to the ER, my parents found a doctor who promised to find answers. We saw an allergy specialist at Fort Carswell Air Force Base and after skin and blood tests, it was discovered and proven that I had fatal anaphylaxis to all dairy and egg products. My white blood cells were attacking my body whenever there were dairy or eggs present in my system (mainly from my mother's milk). We immediately switched over to powder formula and then soy milk once I was old enough (there was no almond milk back then). I was taught from a very young age to never eat or touch any food given to me by strangers, teachers, or friends. My allergies were so bad that just the point of a needle's worth of milk on my skin would send me into anaphylactic shock. I'd have to live in my own little bubble, where I didn't get to share food with friends, and I always brought my own lunches to school and brought my own banana muffins to friends' birthday parties. It was a different lifestyle than my friends had, but I kinda liked being different, even if it meant me wearing a fanny pack to carry around my Epi-Pen.

    My parents' lives got significantly harder; they now had to read the ingredient list on everything that would be brought into their house. Breads, desserts, boxed foods, cereals, chips--nothing went unread. This was before there was an allergen listing on the food label, so my parents had to learn all the different types of dairy there can be in food. My mom certainly didn't need to, but she always went out of her way to make separate meals for me if a recipe called for something I couldn't have, and she ensured that I always had something to eat so I didn't feel left out whenever I was with others who didn't understand my condition (which happened quite often; many people just thought I had a distaste for the foods).

    When I was almost two years old, my sister was born and she didn't have any allergies, which was both a blessing because she didn't have to deal with being so cautious, but was also a curse because my parents were torn as to how to raise her. Should she be allowed to eat whatever she wants, or should she be forced to follow my vegan-before-it-was-cool diet? My parents decided to be amazing and strong and allow her to eat dairy and eggs, meaning that they had to teach a baby to not share food with her older sister. My sister and I grew up very close because although she was the younger, she always tried to protect me from any type of dairy or egg food at school or with friends. When I was six years old, the oldest brother was born. He did have allergies, but they were different than mine: in addition to eggs, he was also allergic to peanuts and shellfish. Peanut allergies are significantly more troubling than dairy and eggs, for my brother could go into anaphylactic shock from just smelling peanut butter. One of my favorite afterschool snacks had to be removed from my life. When I was eight, another brother was born with allergies to milk, eggs, peanuts, and soy. The last brother was born when I was ten, and thankfully with no allergies. There were many different meals and lifestyles going on in our household.

    The summer that I was seven years old, my mom found a premade pancake mix that had no dairy or eggs. I was ecstatic that I could finally have something similar to all my friends, so I ate twelve. Afterwards, I went out into the backyard to play with my siblings. I began to feel a tingling on my lips, like they were expanding. I felt my vision worsening as the angioedema kicked in and my eyes began swelling up. I started to itch under my armpits and on my neck. I was very hot and was finding it harder and harder to breathe, so I ran inside crying to tell my parents what I was experiencing. I was going into anaphylactic shock. Immediately, my mother dropped the dish she was washing and my dad dropped the paper he was reading to run over to me and check me out. Seeing that this was the worst reaction I'd experienced in a long time, my dad picked me up and carried me to his car, my body limp in his arms. We arrived at Scott & White's emergency room within five minutes and my dad haphazardly parked as he ran inside with me barely breathing. I vaguely remembering being rushed to the first available room, being admitted before a man bleeding from his head. "You not breathing is more important than his minor wound" the nurse told me as I wheezingly pointed at him. And then all black.

    I vaguely remember waking up with my head spinning, our parish's priest leaning over me giving me my last rites. I remember the Holy Oils being put on my forehead in the shape of a cross.. Again, all black.

    I next woke up on the fourth floor of the hospital, hooked up to all sorts of IVs and my mom worriedly pacing back and forth at the foot of my bed. I'd been at death's door and turned around. I'd been through something that not many go through, and even less come out alive . . . I'd survived.

    For a few years, there weren't anymore bad reactions, just ones that required Benadryl and sleep. I had another big one when I was eleven when I ate from the wrong batch of cookies some friends had made. I went off to middle school and had no major allergic reactions. I got through high school without needing to use an Epi-Pen. Life had gotten a lot easier since ingredient labels were clear and concise, even stating at the bottom in bold letters which allergens were present. Restaurant owners were aware of anaphylaxis and put up less of a fight when I requested items off their menu without butter or with no cheese. I brought my own lunch to school everyday and had a fairly normal high school career with the ups and downs of boyfriends, the stress of marching band, and the time consumption of studying. I thought college would be the same.

    After being denied a spot in our nation's military academies due to my allergies, I decided to attend the University of Texas at Austin to study marine and freshwater sciences. As with all science majors, there were a lot of late night study sessions and I'd grown accustomed to Starbucks' vanilla hazelnut soy latte. The local one even knew be my name and knew to completely clean both their pitchers and the milk steamer. But one night, when going out to a movie with friends, we stopped at a little mom-and-pop coffee shop on The Drag. I ordered my regular drink, and the guy at the register called it out. Unfortunately, the barista didn't hear the 'soy' in my order and made a regular latte. We walked out jovially, ready to enjoy the movie. I took a sip of my drink, and thought it was disgusting. Just to be sure, I took another sip and it was just as disgusting as I'd thought. Trying to get the taste off of my tongue, I threw the drink away. Never before had my tastebuds experienced such a pure form of milk . . . and my body did not like it at all. Not even ten minutes later, I knew what had happened as I felt my throat close and my eyes swell up. Friends took me to the ER and I was immediately admitted. Once I had the chance, I called my parents and let them know what had happened. Crying, they offered to drive down and be with me (they only live an hour from Austin). I told them they didn't have to, that this was something I needed to get through on my own. By this time, I knew that I was going to be okay, especially since I was under constant supervision by hospital staff. It was a scary experience for an eighteen year old, but definitely an important and defining thing for me to do.

    Fast forward to now. My most recent blood tests revealed that although my milk allergies have gotten better, my allergy to eggs has gotten a little worse. I have achieved and gotten to do all those things that my parents worried about. I am married to a wonderful man who is fine with cutting eggs out of his diet at home, and okay with waiting for me to extensively order while out at restaurants (which, surprisingly, some people do have a problem with).

    I don't really know if I can say that these experiences have made me a better person. I'd like to say that they made me look at my life in a whole new way, but in reality it's just made me realize how lucky I am to be so different from everyone else. I live with optimism, hope, happiness, faith, and love because I know . . . on a deep and metaphysical level . . . that there is an incredibly high chance I wouldn't be here if it weren't for God, medicine, and the love of my family and friends.