aw, nuts!
a little rant about having a food allergy in small town texas
A banana nut muffin at age three quickly made known to my parents that their little brunette baby was extremely allergic to tree nuts, an annoying inconvenience ever since. I’ve only ended up in the hospital twice: once at eleven years old and again at nineteen. The first was a cross contaminated chocolate chip cookie at camp that caused me to doubt all bags of cheese flavored Doritos (I was eating a bag when the symptoms started). My teenage incident was in college at Panera when I ordered a sandwich and took a bite, not realizing that lethal poison was laced into the bread. I haven’t darkened the door of a Panera since. At the time, I committed to vigilance at restaurants and double checked labels at the store, thinking that as an adult I would have a much easier time with it than as a kid.
Oh, how wrong I was.
See, as a kid, it’s someone else’s responsibility to make sure I had all the nutrition I needed and rules in place around junk food. Other moms would ask about my allergies and the ones closest to my family would always check labels, ask bakers questions, or provide an alternate dessert. Occasionally they would say something like “Honey, are you sure?” or “This doesn’t have nuts, I promise,” but would quit upon my insistence that I didn’t need dessert and didn’t feel left out. I did early on, but my prepubescent hospital visit traumatised me to the point where having a bite of Bundt cake for a random classmate was not worth stabbing myself in the thigh and taking a ride in the wee-woo wagon. I was perfectly content watching my friends shovel down a Sam’s Club white cake while I twiddled my thumbs thinking about my throat closing and throwing up and ruining the birthday girl’s party. No, I told myself. This is better.
It got even easier to say no in college because other people my age understood. They had classmates, friends, family members, or they themselves were allergic to something. There was a huge influx of friends who were gluten or dairy intolerant, or they also had a random allergy to cantaloupe, shrimp, eggs, or whatever. I found solidarity wherever I went and people who didn’t bat an eye when I requested a restaurant change or explained I couldn’t eat a store-bought treat because of the allergy warning on the label.
Until I moved.
My husband’s job relocated us out of the big city and into an itty bitty town eastward, and while there are things I enjoy immensely about living out here, the culture around allergies is absolutely atrocious. Scratch that, it’s non-existent. Not only is East Texas famous for its bountiful pecan trees, but I cannot show up to a food-involved social event without a tree nut present. In the past, I’ve had people reach out: “Does anyone coming have allergies?”, or I would volunteer the information: “I’m bringing chips, and I have a tree nut allergy!” Those days are long gone. No matter how many times I tell someone I have an allergy, some sort of nut is showing up. I could plead and beg and ask, and the organizers could too, but there is going to be nuts present. Some lady who doesn’t check her phone is going to bring walnut brownies, pecan pie, or a crumble with some sort of tree-begotten squirrel food that makes me break out in hives and eventually choke to death. It has gotten so bad at church events and large parties that I’ve given up starving at the event and started eating a meal beforehand or smuggling an Uncrustable and a Coke Zero can in my purse. Dinner of champions, amiright.
That’s the other thing: my allergy is specific to certain types of nuts. I haven’t tried the majority of them because of the risks, but I can eat peanuts, almonds, and coconuts just fine. (I can already hear you, Dear Reader. Yes, I know those aren’t really nuts, but the FDA and two-thirds of people I’ve talked to don’t know that, so here’s your sticker for knowing peanuts are legumes, so shut up and keep reading.)
Here’s the problem though: I’ll clarify my restrictions to someone, then they’ll show up next time with a Nutella dessert and a huge smile. You can have this, right? I heave a sigh. Nope, I can’t. That’s hazelnut. I can’t have those. Probably. But don’t worry, everyone else can have some! I can hardly watch as their faces fall. But what about you?? What are you going to have? I force a smile. Nothing, I’m good! I’m sure it's delicious! I’ve even had people describe it to me. Oh, yum! The cake is chocolatey but not too sweet, and the nuts add a nice crunch. I’m so, so sorry you can’t have any. I shrug. That’s okay!! Don’t need it anyway. I pat my misshapen stomach and laugh it off, even though I can see the disappointed looks of the host and the guilty expressions of everyone else enjoying whatever poison was offered.
See what I mean? I gave you guys a whole situation I made up in my head because it's not made up. It’s happened to me multiple times verbatim with variations on the type of dessert and how insistent the person is. There’s a lot of nuance here:
The host feels bad for not asking about allergies and not having a dessert I can eat.
I feel bad for not mentioning that I had allergies.
I didn’t want to mention my allergies because I didn’t want to inconvenience the host.
The other guests feel guilty enjoying something I can’t have.
I feel bad that everyone else feels bad for eating the dessert in front of me when I would much rather they didn’t. Feel bad, I mean.
I also would much rather stand there and not eat dessert rather than paying thousands of dollars to have an iv shoved up my elbow and scare all my loved ones.
What’s wild to me is that my boundaries were respected as a freaking child. My mom or I would express that I had an allergy and I couldn’t have the dessert, and we would get maybe one or two questions; but after the oh yeah the cross-contamination explanation, I would get left ALONE. Sometimes I’d get follow-up questions out of curiosity: Have you always been allergic? Have you gotten tested? How did you find out? Will you grow out of it? Are you allergic to peanuts? I would answer patiently. Yup, I had a banana nut muffin at church in preschool. We’ve tested a couple, like pecans at Thanksgiving. Maybe I will grow out of it, you never know. Nope, not peanuts, just tree nuts. Those questions were fine and served me well when a friend would turn to me with a concerned expression and a phrase like Oh yeah, you have allergies, right? I felt like people in my life, especially friends, would actually listen and pay attention. Sure, they’re not perfect, but at least they actively try to remember and care for my literal life.
As an adult living in the country, I am suddenly bombarded with these kinds of questions but no one ever remembers or cares. Also, I’ve explained cross-contamination to at least fifteen people at our church and no one gets it. One lady went as far to get huffy when I refused to try her “tree nut free” pie when it was literally sitting next to a pecan one. They’re not touching, though! was her argument. I remember taking a deep breath through the nose, my temper starting to simmer. What part of no means no don’t these people get? I thought to myself angrily, a smile plastered on my face. I ended up with something along the lines of, “I’m sure your pie is delicious, but it is too risky.”
Recently, I showed up to a Bible study where the teacher was bringing pasta salad. I stupidly forwent dinner and showed up hungry, only to have my stomach drop when I beheld the plastic container of snacking nuts next to the open bag of chips. As soon as the container of grapes opened, I managed a handful of those before anyone else touched them. By the time the study ended, I could hardly focus from my low blood sugar and hunger gnawing at my empty stomach and the frustration that I should have just eaten at home.
But there’s another problem: people ask me at these events why I don’t have a plate and despite my explanations that I already ate at home, THEY STILL INSIST I EAT SOMETHING. Then, when I clarify that I have allergies, they get upset. Why didn’t you tell anyone? We would have made an announcement or sent out a text.
NEWSFLASH! IT DOESN’T MATTER, I inwardly scream. SOMEONE WOULD HAVE BROUGHT SOMETHING ANYWAY AND I AM NOT GONNA STARVE BECAUSE OF SOME STUPID SOCIETAL EXPECTATION.
Mind you, all of that is my inner dialogue, because I have never, ever, EVER gone to a social event and complained that I couldn’t eat something, especially as an adult. I try to manage my expectations and plan in advance - if I can eat safely at a party, terrific! Otherwise I eat a filling snack beforehand and do not mind AT ALL if I have to miss out. I’m so used to missing out on dessert or a meal that it hardly phases me - unless someone assured me the selection was safe and I didn’t eat beforehand. It’s hard to keep a level head about your life-threatening allergy when you’re hangry!
The one time I almost lost my temper was a couple years ago. At one women’s event there was a whole charcuterie board (with nuts!!!) along with a bunch of different food that everyone brought for a small potluck. I arrived late with my own food: crackers, cheese, salami, and other charcuterie fare to add to the spread. I started arranging my board, then filled my plate, snacking on my safe, untouched foods as I went. As soon as I took my eyes off the counter, I couldn’t eat it anymore or take it home as it would get cross contaminated by all the sticky hands. I was really hungry and looking forward to my yummy girl dinner.
As I finished filling my plate, one of the women sidled up to me.
“Hey, Sarah,” she said, and promptly used her hands to pop a grape from my plate into her mouth.
I froze, my face falling. “Um…have you been eating the nuts and the food?”
“Yeah, why?” Get this - she grabbed ANOTHER cracker off my plate. She kept snacking until I managed to recover from my shock.
I closed my eyes, the tears brewing in my eyes and a pit growing in my stomach. “I have allergies and you just contaminated my plate.”
To her credit, she did profusely apologize, but I had to throw that food out and start the whole process again on a brand new plate. Now, here’s the crazy part: not only have I told her before that I had allergies, she is also a DOCTOR. She’s the one person in the room I would think to trust with an Epi-pen and signs of anaphylaxis. I was so rattled by the interaction I was lost for words after that.
I could conclude that the underlying reason for the lack of allergy awareness is that few people actually care for me and my well-being at this church, but I don’t think this is a problem with me. It’s an endemic problem in this community. I’ve lived here almost three years and haven’t met another adult with a severe food allergy. I haven’t met anyone else who’s had to skip out on eating at social events because of a dietary restriction. I can’t speak to other small towns, but I get the impression that if I went to other places that are not big cities with a diverse population I would have the same issue.
I don’t feel heard about my allergies because my community doesn’t know how to listen for it.
There are exceptions, but for the most part a lot of people don’t know how to handle my allergies. I watched an event coordinator arrange pecan tarts on a plate, then turn around and wrap potatoes in foil. I saw someone at a potluck put the same cake server underneath some grandma’s pecan pie, then turn around and scoop out a piece of banana pudding. Southern culture makes no allowances for allergies and certainly no allowances for all my “excuses” and increasingly impatient smiles as my “no thank yous” are constantly questioned and ultimately ignored with repeated insistence I try something that’s potentially dangerous.
Here’s the problem my stories I’ve outlined presents: I have a hard time setting boundaries. I’m a people pleaser and I want people to like me. However, there are things that people are too comfortable asking about or pressuring me to do when they haven’t taken the time to get to know me or are barely acquainted with me. Telling me I should try your chocolate mint bars (that are sitting next to a walnut macadamia pecan monstrosity that has def cross-contaminated everything on the table) when I’ve already politely (key word: politely) turned you down is really not cool.
My resolve is to establish clearer boundaries and to actually say the word “no”. I also need to have more patience and change my expectations. As much as I wished everyone paid particular attention to allergies, that isn’t the case everywhere. The truth is that while it feels like no one cares, I know that the if the majority of people understood what having a severe allergy entailed they would pay closer attention and ask questions to further understand and not weaponize the new information to try to get me to eat something despite my protests.
Life with an allergy isn’t just crazy. It’s nuts. x 1
Let me make it very clear that there are a couple people who have worked very hard to make sure some of the women’s events I attend are nut free, and understand when I pipe up at a large gathering or ask someone about the ingredients in such-and-such casserole or so-and-so dish. I am so grateful for the family, friends, and church members who make me feel loved by changing an ingredient in a beloved dish, switching restaurants because of a risky menu, or checking menus and places ahead of time on my behalf. To be loved is to be known!