A Trip to the Pharmacy

I don't ever want pity from people because of food allergies.  In fact, I don't care for sympathy at all, because its just not who I am.  And I firmly believe we are the lucky ones, as there are unlimited other more serious and life changing conditions that people struggle with every day.  I have a friend whose son has leukemia right now.  There isn't much more of a reality check than cancer.  This post is not about sympathy.

I don't expect people to automatically understand what its like to live in a world where food is dangerous.  How could anyone understand?  You could pretend to be allergic, to see what it feels like.  You could spend a day, or a week, even a month, of your life checking labels, avoiding eggs, or corn, or nuts, or all of them, and the 10 or so other ingredients Nathan is currently allergic to.  You could cook all your own foods and give up going out to eat at restaurants.  But, in the back of your mind you would always know, that someday you would be done with your experiment and life would go back to "normal".  Whats more, somewhere deep down inside you would be at ease because you would know, this wasn't a life or death situation.  If you left the house without Benedryl and an Epi Pen, if you missed an ingredient on a label, or your kid picked up a cracker off a counter and ate it, it really isn't the end of the world.    Your adrenaline levels would never be on high alert because its not real.  

No, I dont expect you to be able to imagine our lives.  But I do expect people to listen to my stories, and those of other people who struggle with children with food allergies and use any empathy they might gleam from them to challenge the way they think about food allergies.  This is one of those stories:

This week I took Nathan to kickboxing class with me.  On the way we stopped off at our local chain pharmacy to pick up some pictures I had ordered.  It was a quick trip in, so I let Nathan walk next to me.  While I was getting the pictures Nathan spotted an M&M dispenser next to the photo kiosk.  [It looked just like this.]

He stuck his face right in on one side of the dispenser, in that hole, to take a peek inside.  He stuck his arm inside and pulled out a bag of peanut M&Ms.  He probably was holding the bag for less than a minute, when I saw, took the bag away from him, telling him he was allergic, and proceeded with checking out.  The parking lot of our kickboxing studio is shared with the pharmacy, so in a minute or two we were in the kickboxing studio.  That is when I saw the hives.  They were big and red and angry.  They were on his face, his neck, his chest.  They were unmistakable as an allergic reaction.  Nathan started scratching and fussing about them.  I took him in the bathroom and washed him completely down, face, neck, arms, hands, anything that possibly came in contact with the candy bag.  Then I gave him Benedryl and watched and waited, trying my best not to panic, all the while my heart and mind racing, 'how could this happen?'  The good news is that after about 10 minutes the hives were nearly gone and Nathan was no worse for the wear.    I think his age, although it presents lots of challenges in understanding, also is a blessing because he really doesn't understand what is going on when an allergic reaction occurs.  He doesn't have the opportunity to panic.  And I force myself not to panic despite every part of me that wants to freak out.  

I've had time to process the event, mulling it over a thousand times in my mind.  Could there have been loose M&Ms inside the dispenser?  Could he have eaten a loose peanut M&M inside the dispenser while I wasn't looking?  Or is his allergy to nuts so severe that just touching a bag of them is enough to start a reaction?  The conclusion Ive come to is that, like alot of the things about food allergies, we just will never know.  Obviously from this experience I've stepped up my vigilance to protecting Nathan from nut exposure.  

I would hope from this story that people would challenge their thinking.  Embrace changes that parents of food allergy children are pushing to make.  Realize these changes are to keep their children safe, and in severe cases, keep their child alive.  Instead of rolling your eyes about the peanut free classroom, or switching your child out of the class, accept the situation as an opportunity to explore new food options for your child.  Instead of complaining about "food free" celebrations at school brainstorm fun crafts or food free prizes to send in with your child for the class party or birthday.  Instead of making children with food allergies feel excluded and bad about themselves for something they cannot change, work hard to include every child.  When a school decides to not have a bake sale, instead of complaining about it, volunteer to come up with another way to raise money for the organization.  Face painting?  Tattoos?  A raffle?  A small toy sale?  A fruit and veggies sale?  Arts and crafts table?  These are just off the top of my head.  I'm sure there are plenty more smart and creative people out there who could come up with a hundred more ideas.  

I hesitate to draw analogies, food allergies and their severity should be an issue that is able to stand on its own as important.  But, I understand there exists a large lack of knowledge and experience related to food allergies.  So I ask that parents model empathy, tolerance and acceptance for their children with regards to food allergies just as they would other important issues.  Its easy to get behind the big issues, bullying, racism, the equal rights of all people, and to model and teach children acceptance.  Anything that excludes people or makes them feel bad about who they are should be changed.  This includes food allergies.  

I know that people have a hard time wrapping their minds around change.  I dislike change as much as the next girl.  It makes me uncomfortable to give up traditions that I associate with so much of my childhood and fun.  However, when my fun puts other people's lives at risk, the selfless part of me is forced to embrace change.