Food Fight: The Love and the Strife (Part 1)
The Last Five Years. Look at that! Only a theatre nerd like me would get a kick out of making life parallels with musicals. But seriously, the last five years have been life altering in such a divergent way. My little stream of life is now flowing in the opposite direction.
It all started at local Mexican restaurants. I was a regular at both Celia’s and Palo Alto Sol on any given Friday night. I wouldn’t say that they offered the best or the most authentic Mexican food, but they absolutely hit the spot. No question. Solid comfort Mexican food that was affordable and made for a good date night spot. I absolutely love mole poblano and they did a pretty good job with theirs. Warm, spicy, creamy chocolaty saucy goodness. Yes, please! Just briefly describing it now makes my mouth salivate. If only I could have that flavor in my mouth for a moment! Simple joy. I am going somewhere with this story, I promise. Food memories (and food in general) just derail me sometimes. It’s life, what can I say!?!
So what all happened there?
It started slowly with minor stomach pains - the feeling of eating too much, too quickly. Nothing that a little Pepto Bismol couldn’t handle. At first. The weeks went by and the pains worsened, but it seemed only after eating at my favorite Mexican staples. I didn’t understand what was happening.
I grew up on Mexican food. It was not uncommon for me to consume it every day, for multiple meals. And I never grew tired of it. I even prided myself on the heat I could take in my chilies. The hotter the better! Bring on the fire, bring on the tears. My Friday evening treat rituals turned into weekends in bed, in complete suffering and loss. It got so bad that I couldn’t sit comfortably in the car after leaving the restaurant. My stomach would swell to the point where I looked like I was a solid 8 months pregnant, coupled with shooting, stabbing, twisting and jabbing pains; it was an awful experience. Something was going terribly wrong and changing within me. Pardon for being overly dramatic, but I was devastated over this. Food is culture. When you grow up identifying with a particular culture and then something out of your control forces you out of that culture, you experience a true sense of loss. I felt like I was being exiled from my sense of place, my home, my life.
I was determined, however, to continue trying to eat. I thought - maybe it’s some new spice they’ve added to their recipes? But as time went on these terrible episodes extended beyond those two restaurants. It seemed to be happening every time I had any Mexican food - or a combination of those traditional ingredients. The curious side of me started to do some personal investigation with my food. I started withholding things from my dishes - no sauteed onions, no raw onions, no raw peppers, etc. I went to mild salsas or requested to hold the heat in the dishes. (Truly sad moments when your heart and mouth crave those flavors.) It became evident, relatively quickly, that I had a problem with onions. No! They are such a wonderful powerhouse of flavor and a staple in most dishes - Mexican or not. I used to eat them like apples as a child. (I’m not kidding.) How could my body all of a sudden not be able to handle these delicious and quite nutritious bulbs?
I started to research the differences between allergy and intolerance. When Benadryl helped to ease the swelling and calm the pain, I began to realize that my body was developing a food allergy. However, I wasn’t positive or in my heart convinced. I didn’t want it to be true. I just kept thinking that this was a phase, something that was randomly bothering me and that I would just “kick”. But I did what seemed best and most reasonable and started avoiding onions in everything.
That seemed to work for a little bit. And then - SURPRISE - more swelling and pain. Now what?
Even by withholding the onions, I would have further such episodes. Complete debilitating stomach pain. The kind that even the fetal position, heat pads, and a slew of supposed stomach pain medications wouldn’t bring relief. Even the Benadryl wasn’t really helping. However, I was still not willing to accept this body shift within me. I kept making mental excuses - I’m stressed, I’ve eaten too much, I’ve eaten too many varied foods in the meal, too rich of food, etc. You name it, I claimed the excuse. I didn’t want my life of food to change.
I LOVE food. I hate the term “foodie”, but for the lack of a better representation, I fit the bill. I am most definitely not a food “snob”, though I love and value the fine dining experience and truly appreciate every ingredient and the responsibility behind its source and inclusion. I LIVE TO TASTE. I felt that I was losing grip on such a huge part of my being - like sand through a sieve.
And then it HAPPENED. The slap in the face, punch to the nose, brutal WAKE-UP CALL TO REALITY.
As I mentioned, I was already carrying around Benadryl with me to counter the responses my body was experiencing with food. I had a business lunch at a newer Thai restaurant in San Francisco. It was a significant moment for me because it was one of the first business deal lunches I had arranged. I ordered some coconut soup and asked if there was onion in the broth. I was told no. So I didn’t ask for it to be noted to ensure that onion was withheld from the dish. When the soup arrived, it had green onions sprinkled on top as a garnish. I didn’t want to make a fuss at the lunch and send the soup back, so I figured that I would just eat around the garnish. I wasn’t consuming them - I should be fine. Right? You guessed it. Wrong! Within a few spoonfuls I could tell something wasn’t right. I started feeling my body temperature rise, I felt flush. My neck muscles began to clench. I looked at my colleague and she instantly knew something was WRONG. I was flooded with thoughts. I didn’t want the embarrassment of making a scene. So I reached into my purse grabbed several Benadryl pills, quickly swallowed them down and excused myself from the table. I indicated that I wasn’t feeling well and that I would return to the office leaving my colleagues to handle the lunch alone. As I walked the few SF blocks back to the office, the chest pressure and wheezing began to intensify. I just kept thinking - I’ll be ok, I’ll be ok! I just needed to get back to the office to rest. When I got to the office, my breathing was heavy and strained. I laid down on the couch and just tried to remain calm. I didn’t want to make such a fuss by calling the paramedics. I just kept thinking that the feeling would pass. The amount of Benadryl I took made me very drowsy and I obviously went to sleep because I was awakened by my colleagues returning to the office with concern in their eyes. I was fortunate. Very fortunate. At that moment I realized my INCREDIBLE STUPIDITY. That situation could have ended far differently. (For anyone reading this - do NOT do what I did. If you begin to experience changes to your breathing, call 911. Do not wait. You do not know how fast things can change in your body and seconds matter. More on this later.)
That was IT for me. My mind caved to the reality that my body had changed and I needed to get help. The next day I made an appointment with an allergist through Stanford Hospital and it was the start of a whole new life program.
Sweet, caring, and swift-acting Dr. T performed a skin scratch test along with blood work and determined that was indeed ALLERGIC to not only onions, but peppers, tree nut and...corn! (Among a few other things.) It all made sense. Even though I was avoiding onions, I was still having episodes because I was still being exposed to these other allergens. She prescribed me my first EpiPen and told me that I needed to do my due diligence and remove all these foods from my diet. She said she wanted me reading packaging labels, researching ingredient listings and ensuring my food didn’t come in contact with these foods.
I felt like the foundation of my life had crumbled from beneath me and I was thrust into a whole new world, a world that looked scary and dark; I was honestly frightened.
Little did I know that this would be the TIP of the ICEBERG.
As I said, it’s been five years and there is much to tell of my experiences. I know that I am not alone in these, but the more people share, the more is out there for people to learn from, connect to and build a community of support around. That’s why I have decided to put myself out there.
