Lemon-Mustard Chicken (gluten & allergen free)

This recipe is based on the Lemon-Mustard Chicken recipe from the retro-pink (breast-cancer addition) Better Homes and Gardens© cookbook that’s sitting on my shelf, pages stained with brownies and pancakes.  Much like the velveteen rabbit, it’s on its way to becoming real.  This cookbook has pretty much taught me how to cook because, even though it never mentions food allergies or celiac disease even once, I’ve learned how to modify recipes and I’ve gained a best grasp of some of  technical jargon in cookbooks that used to scare me.  I’m still learning how to cook and it’s still proving to have some pretty tasty recipes between its covers; a pretty good combination.  

The original recipe calls for removing the skin (something I couldn’t bring myself to do, which meant I had to be careful not to charcoal the skin but it turned out nice and crispy). 

The original recipe also only makes just enough sauce to cover the chicken lightly but I wanted to have enough lemon-mustard mix leftover in the pan once the chicken was done to use as a sauce on my basmati rice, which tasted pretty darn good if I do say so myself.  If you’re not planning on using the drippings/lemon-mustard mixture for a sauce, just cut all of the ingredients (besides the chicken) in half.  Easy peasy.


Ingredients:

  • 2 and 1/2 to 3 pounds Chicken (drumsticks, breast halves, or thighs)
  • 5 tablespoons cooking oil
  • 2 tablespoon Dijon-style mustard
  • 2 tablespoon lemon juice
  • 3 teaspoons lemon-pepper seasoning
  • 2 teaspoon dried oregano or basil (crushed)
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground red pepper

Directions:

  1. Broil chicken about 5 inches from heat on high for about 15 minutes on each side. 
  2. While the chicken is cooking, stir oil, mustard, lemon juice, lemon-pepper seasoning, oregano/basil, and ground red pepper together in a small bowl.
  3. Brush mix onto one side of the chicken.
  4. Meanwhile, lower the baking rack back to the middle of the oven and turn the oven’s temperature to 400 degrees.
  5. Bake chicken for 10 minutes.  Then, take chicken out, coat the other side with the mustard mixture, and bake chicken again for another 10 minutes.  Or until chicken is no longer pink (turn the heat down on the oven if you’re afraid the skin will burn). 
  6. Serve chicken with basmati rice, cooked veggies, or salad.  And enjoy.

Moroccan Chicken (gluten & allergen free)

As a result of being gluten-free and having more than my share of food allergies, I tend to eat a lot of chicken and rice, so finding a new way to serve it is a plus.  I’ve now made this recipe twice, and it’s a keeper!  It was even a success when I served it to several wheat-eating friends who don’t have food allergies, which seems a good sign.


Ingredients:

  • 4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
  • Olive oil (a couple tablespoons; depends on how much sauce you’d like to have)
  • 1/2 a small zucchini, chopped (optional)
  • 2 medium onions, chopped
  • 4 teaspoons Moroccan seasoning (I used the McCormick© blend, but you can also find tons of recipes for Moroccan seasoning mixes online)
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 2 tablespoon honey (or 1.5 tablespoons Wax Orchards’ Fruit Sweet©; a sweetener made out of fruit juice that’s supposed to be diabetic friendly)
  • 1/2 cup golden raisins
  • Fresh cilantro, chopped (however much you like)

Directions:

  1. Slice chicken (both horizontally and vertically) into small strips.  Add olive oil, chicken, zucchini, and onions to pan.  Cook on a medium to high heat until the chicken is fully cooked and the vegetables are soft.
  2. Mix Moroccan seasoning, salt, and garlic powder in a small bowl.  Then, add to the chicken and stir.  If the seasoning is sticking to the bottom of the pan or there doesn’t seem to be enough sauce, add more olive oil.
  3. Stir in honey/Fruit Sweet©.  If the sauce seems too thick, add a little water.
  4. Stir in golden raisins.
  5. Top with fresh cilantro, then serve warm over rice (I recommend basmati).  And enjoy!

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How I Got Peanuted at the Doctor’s

oven-roasted-peanutsI’d been playing with my flip-flop and spacing out as I sat in the examination room yesterday waiting for my appointment to begin.  All of a sudden I was being rushed out of the examination area by the nurse—a kind, bubbly woman who knows about my anaphylactic reaction to peanuts.  It felt like a personal building evacuation: “Kelsey, we need to get you out of here now!”

One of the staff had microwaved pancakes with peanut butter, so the whole building was beginning to smell like warm peanuts (no, I’m not allergic to the smell itself).  The staff madly threw every window open to let as much fresh peanut-free air into the doctor’s office as possible as they escorted me out of the all-of-a-sudden-extremely-dangerous building.

I had to take a Benadryl (chomped down on one of the liquid pills and put it under my tongue so it took effect extra fast), and because I was rushed out of the building so quickly, that’s thankfully all I needed.  The whole event was was still scary nevertheless for everyone involved because we all knew it could end with me being lifted into an ambulance if that Benadryl didn’t do the trick—and fast!

Because I couldn’t risk going back inside the building (and the staff wouldn’t have let me risk it even if I’d wanted to), I then had to have my appointment in the parking lot.  Odd but it worked.  Although, I’ll have to go back for the examination another day.  Having to reschedule an examine is pretty minor compared with spending the rest of the day in the ER.  And thankfully I’d gotten a ride to my appointment because otherwise I would’ve had a hard time getting home due to how spacey the Benadryl makes me feel.

Peanuts make everything so much more challenging.  And dangerous.


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Gluten-Free 101: What is Gluten Anyway?

Are you feeling confused by all the “gluten-free” labels popping up on everything from cereal boxes to sandwich meat?  Do you think celiac disease is an allergy to gluten?  Are you unsure whether it’s all a big hoax or maybe just a new celebrity fad diet?  Unsure what gluten even is?  Well, my friend, this informative yet entertaining little video is just what you need!

I kind of wish he would’ve gone into a bit more detail about what it feels like to get glutened when you have celiac disease: I end up in bed for a couple of days, miss work and school, and have the worse stomach pains I’ve ever had in my life.  And it takes a good week before I can eat normally again (I have to eat super soft gentle foods) and about two weeks (sometimes closer to three) before my stomach completely stops hurting after eating or drinking (water is the worse, it hurts so much).  And all of that drama and pain can happen if I were to just pick croutons out of my salad. 

But I suppose going into all of that would’ve made for a much longer video.  Check it out.  And let me know what you think. Smile


What to know more about living gluten-free?  Check out these posts:

Peanut Anaphylaxis: The Most Frequently Asked Questions

peanut butter sandwichMost people aren’t regularly questioned about their diet, but when you live with anaphylaxis it’s just part of life.  People have a lot of questions because, unless someone has a family member or close friend who lives with anaphylaxis, the whole concept of a life-threatening allergy to some sort of food is pretty foreign.  And understandably so.  Anaphylaxis means so much more than just a limited diet—it means a limited life and a completely different style of living.

This doesn’t mean that I’m unable to have a full, satisfying life, though, but it does takes more planning and flexibility.

One thing that helps make living with anaphylaxis easier is when people take the time to understand, so I’ve compiled a list of the most common questions I’m asked:

1. Do you react to the smell of peanuts?

Nope.  Part of the general confusion about airborne anaphylaxis comes from when folks use the word “smell.”  People assume that when I say I have an airborne anaphylactic reaction it means I’m either reacting to, afraid of, or don’t like the smell of peanuts.  It really is impossible to react to just the smell itself, though, but that doesn’t mean airborne reactions to even trace amounts of the proteins in peanuts (what people are actually reacting to) aren’t real.

2. What is anaphylaxis?

Let’s look at a quick definition of anaphylaxis:

“Anaphylaxis is a severe, potentially life-threatening allergic reaction. It can occur within seconds or minutes of exposure to something you’re allergic to, such as a peanut or the venom from a bee sting.

“The flood of chemicals released by your immune system during anaphylaxis can cause you to go into shock; your blood pressure drops suddenly and your airways narrow, blocking normal breathing … Anaphylaxis requires an immediate trip to the emergency department and an injection of epinephrine [Epi-Pen].  If anaphylaxis isn’t treated right away, it can lead to unconsciousness or even death.”  From the Mayo Clinic’s website.

Basically, anaphylaxis means someone could die, not just feel discomfort, if they’re exposed to their allergen.  It’s also so extreme that it’s considered a recognized ADA disability because it impairs breathing (which is why it can cause death).

I’m allergic to a bunch of trees and flowers, cows, tomatoes, soy, dairy, and the list goes on, but none of them besides peanuts and mushrooms—even though some of them are extremely unpleasant to have reactions to and could even result in me missing work—are anaphylactic reactions.  This doesn’t mean my other reactions aren’t a big deal, it just means they’re not life-threatening or a ADA recognized disability.

A lot of times there’ll be confusion when someone is talking about an anaphylaxis reaction and using the word “allergy” because everyone imagines the person is just breaking into hives or sneezing.  It’s really unfortunate that people too often imagine sneezing when an anaphylactic reaction to something like peanuts or a bee sting is actually closer to someone eating a deadly poison—death is a very realistic concern.

3.  Are you sure it’s anaphylaxis and not a panic attack?

Well, I didn’t self-diagnose myself as having anaphylaxis.  I told several doctors and allergists what was happening when I was exposed to peanuts, and they told me I’d learned the hard way that I have an airborne anaphylactic reaction to a protein in peanuts.

Also, important to note: some of my very worst anaphylaxis reactions have happened when someone was eating something peanut-y near me and I had no idea I was near peanuts until I started to choke.  My throat begins to close up and I’ll stop breathing if immediate action isn’t taken.  I’d look around quickly while reaching for my emergency Benadryl and Epi-Pens, knowing that I was reacting to something because I couldn’t breathe.  And then I’ll spot a peanut butter cookie or PB and J near me that I hadn’t seen or even smelled previously.

This has happened countless times—on the train, in a college classroom, at the ballet (the person behind me snuck a peanut butter sandwich in, and nobody knew), standing in line at Disneyland, and all kinds of other places.  I’ll tell whoever is with me, “I’m having trouble breathing!”  And we’ll both look around while getting me to an easily-accessible location in case the paramedics have to come and, oftentimes fairly quickly, we identify some peanut product that had previously escaped our notice.

I don’t have to smell the peanuts or even be aware that they’re in the same vicinity as me to react.  And, unfortunately, I’m so sensitive to the peanut protein I’m allergic to that it doesn’t require much exposure at all to send me into anaphylactic shock.  This is why whenever I go to my regular doctor or allergist I’m given the “you-could-die-if-you-didn’t-have-your-Epi-Pen” lecture (they’re always glad to see that it’s on my person).

4. Have you experienced an anaphylactic reaction before?

Yup, I sure have.  A number of times, unfortunately.  One of the most memorable was when I was in Disneyland with my fiancé and our families in September 2012.  A woman in front of us in line for a ride opened a treat with peanuts.  My throat began to close up, I took instant Benadryl but it didn’t work.  My fiancé, Mr. M, had to give me my Epi-Pen and call 911, and we spent about 10 hours in the ER room.  It was a terrifying start to our Disneyland vacation.

Usually my reactions don’t end up with me in the ER, but every single one of them has the possibility to become that serious.  And if I didn’t immediately take Benadryl every time, my peanut reactions would always lead to the ER because unfortunately the reactions don’t just wear off if I get fresh air or go away after a while—they get worse.

5.  Can’t you just leave the room when you’re having a reaction?

There’s sometimes the misunderstanding that because I’m so extremely sensitive to peanuts it’ll act as some kind of sixth sense—alerting me to the dangers before I start to have a major reaction.  Or that if I see peanut-y products, like candies or a PB and J, that I just need to get out of the area.

Unfortunately, by the time that I see something peanut-y that’s unwrapped or start to have a reaction (my throat starts closing up), it’s too late.  I always leave the room quickly, but at that point I’m already having a reaction.

By the time I notice unwrapped peanuts in an area, I’m smack-dab in the middle of a life-threatening medical emergency.  As a result, the only way to avoid anaphylactic reactions is by not being exposed to the allergen (in my case, peanuts) in the first place.

6.  Have you tried masking?

This is a very common suggestion that people make, and something I actually talked with my doctor about a while back.  It really does seem like a great idea at first, which I completely get because I’d wondered if it’d work, too.

My doctor said that the mask itself likely wouldn’t protect me from having anaphylactic reactions.  But the trouble is that even if I had a good enough mask that it did help while I wore it, if I were exposed to peanuts while wearing a mask I’d have a reaction as soon as I took the mask off.  For example, I’ve reacted to my clothing after having been exposed to peanuts.

It’s like if someone encountered a toxic spill; wearing a mask wouldn’t help because it would be on their clothing and everywhere.  As a result, once I get home from having a major reaction I have to shower and wash my clothes to make sure the particles are completely off of everything (after I have an anaphylactic reaction I’m much, much more sensitive even than normal so it’s very important to get everything as clean and peanut-free as possible).

7. Will you outgrow it?  

Sometimes—but not always—people who have food allergies as children will outgrow their allergies as they get older.  Not something to bank on, though and, if you’re talking to the parent of a child with food allergies, don’t tell them it’ll all be a-okay in a couple of years, because there’s no way of knowing if that particular child will be one of the lucky ones.  And they likely won’t be.

That said, I don’t even have the chance of being one of the lucky kiddos to outgrow my food allergies because my peanut allergy started when I was 21 (I’m 26 now for reference).  Those of us who develop food allergies as adults are more apt (I honestly don’t know why) do be anaphylactic.  And we also don’t outgrow our food foes.   

8. Can’t you just use your Epi-Pen?

A lot of people think that as long as I have my magical Epi-Pen on me that I’ll be fine, but all Epi-Pens truly do is override the anaphylactic reaction temporarily.  If I had to use my Epi-Pen it wouldn’t fix things; it’d mean I’d have to be rushed to the ER in an ambulance before the reaction returned with full force.  Basically, it just buys me a little more time (I’ve been told about twenty minutes, but I think it’d depend on the severity of the allergy).

It’s not a solution; it just provides me with enough time to hopefully get to the ER before going unconscious or dying.

Epi-Pens even say on the directions to call 911 immediately after using.  And, believe me, paramedics take it very seriously when you tell them you just had to use your Epi-Pen.

9. Can you take medication or get allergy shots?  

There’s no magic pill that will allow me to eat or be in the same room as peanuts.  Boy, it would be nice if there was, though.  And allergies shots are for your hay-fever variety of allergies, not food-induced anaphylaxis.

10. Do you miss peanuts?

I used to adore peanuts.  I’d even made up my own peanut-butter based mythology (whoever gets to eat the swirl at the top of a freshly opened jar of peanut butter got a wish).  And the summer of 2005, right after I graduated from high school, I lived in Hungary for about four months.  A land that was virtually void of my favorite snack, so my mom mailed me a jar of creamy Skippy every month.

That was then.  Now peanuts and peanut butter are no longer a homey treat when I’m far away—they’re something I have to spend my entire life avoiding.  So even though I was extra fond of peanut butter originally, I don’t miss eating the sticky, gooey product out of the jar.  What I truly miss is the convenience of not having to live a peanut-focused life thanks to anaphylaxis.

Check out my article on how my peanut reaction truly impacts life on a daily basis: Life in a Nutshell: How Anaphylaxis Impacts My Life


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How I Was Kicked out of College Because of My Anaphylaxis

13094044-peanuts--peanut-butterThe office of Disability Support  Services (DSS) at the University of Washington Tacoma extension campus considered my anaphylactic airborne reaction to peanuts to be so serious that it was documented disability.  I didn’t have to eat or even touch peanuts for my throat to start closing up; my life would be in danger if a classmate so much as ate a peanut-y treat during lecture.  This meant going to school was risky—very risky.  And I knew that better than anyone.  But I thought I had support.

Reasonable Accommodations

Despite the risks, I didn’t ask the University of Washington to ban peanuts from the campus or require all of the security staff to be trained on how to use an Epi-Pen (although, both would have made me much safer).  Instead, I worked with the DSS office to figure out what my reasonable accommodations were: visible “peanut-free” signs on my classroom doors to remind students, teachers would be contacted by DSS so they’d know to enforce the policy, and an email was sent out at the beginning of each quarter alerting everyone who’d be in my classrooms that quarter not to eat peanuts in those rooms.

The game plan wasn’t perfect, and I knew my “peanut-free” signs wouldn’t truly prevent a rule-breaker from eating their Reese’s snack in my classroom.  Because the university is an urban campus (right in the heart of the fun, artsy section of the city), it doesn’t have a cafeteria, so people eat pretty much everywhere.  This is dangerous for me.  There also aren’t rules about eating in classrooms.  Extra dangerous.  While my accommodations may not have been perfect, having support from my university made the difference between whether or not I could attend the school.

Food in the Library

This quarter (Spring 2013) the food policy in the library buildings changed to allow food, so it became very challenging for me to find anywhere relatively safe to study, work on a group project, or eat my own lunch.  And I’d completely lost access to the tutoring center, computers and printers in the library and the books (how do you go to college and not have access to the books?).  I was told the policy was just a “pilot program”; something that could be changed if the library received enough complaints.  So I tried to alert people in charge at the library to the fact that I was experiencing an access issue, and also a safety issue, to due to my disability.

The director in charge of the library was concerned, contacted the DSS office, and decided to return to the original food policy—no food in the library buildings.  The school Chancellor (the school president, the woman in charge) then got involved, and told the library that they wouldn’t be changing the policy back; the “pilot” was now the rule.

This left me without anywhere relatively safe to study on campus.  And I still couldn’t access the library tutors, librarians, computers and printers, or the books.

And Then Everything Got Worse

At this same time, and of course right at midterms, the Chancellor also took away my official disability accommodations.  Completely.  No signs, no support, nothing.

Due to the signage, the DSS office was told that my disability was a “facility issue” now because it impacted the building and, therefore, was no longer under their jurisdiction.  Despite still having a life-threatening documented disability (whether it was a disability or not was never in question), I was left high and dry.

I’d basically been identified by the school Chancellor as a possible liability.  The way she put it was that she didn’t want “peanut-free” signs because that wasn’t a “promise” she could keep.  In other words, the school couldn’t guarantee my safety and didn’t want to get slapped with a lawsuit if I ended up in the ER or died; therefore, they’d do nothing.  No signs.  No accommodations through DSS.  This meant forbidding the library director from returning the library buildings to being food-free and taking away my disability accommodations completely.

My anaphylaxis had become a weapon—a way to scare me off of campus.

You’ve Got to be Kidding Me

I met with the university Chancellor and one of the members of student government last week to discuss the situation; she made it very clear that she didn’t think I should be at the school at all, or at any of UW’s other campuses.  And that I was just a liability as far as she was concerned.

After our meeting I’d thought there’d been enough compromise to at least keep me in school until the end of the quarter, but I didn’t think I’d be able to return in the fall for my senior year.  But our “compromise” turned out to be all talk.

The Chancellor had told me that I could no longer get my accommodations through DSS and, when it came to handling my disability, I would only have access to her office from now on (something I don’t think she was at all legally allowed to do).  I had been removed completely from DSS’s charge and paced fully under the Chancellor, who is neither an official DSS worker nor an allergist.  As a result, she said that her office would make me signs—better signs even, more professional looking.

Well, they did make me signs.  But they were a joke.  They weren’t on the classroom doors—where they needed to be to remind students and staff.  And they weren’t at all visible.  The signs looked like they’d just printed something directly out of Word—12 point font, Times New Roman, black ink on a white piece of paper.  Completely invisible.

The signs were also hidden; one was at the very front of the classroom next to another sign (ironically the statement about how school doesn’t discriminate based on things like disabilities) and stuck on the wall with blue painters tape (yup, that’s professional looking).  The other sign was lost on a cluttered bulletin board in the back of the class; it took me and a friend hunting before we were finally able to find it.

I didn’t want signs just for the sake of having signs; I needed visible reminders to my classmates and instructors that would help keep me safer.

I was also promised an unofficial “office” with a key, so that I could determine who went into it.  I was given a key … but not to the “office.”  The key unlocked an entire wing where the adjuncts’ offices were.  My little room was the only one with a printer and computer, so if anyone needed to print something they’d go into my office.  And because I didn’t have a key to keep them out (or even a sign on the door saying that it was being used), there was no way for me to keep the room safer than any other faculty-only area on campus.  And the office didn’t even had a window, so I wouldn’t have even been able to air it out if there was ever a problem.

Saying Goodbye to My Academic Dreams

Without even a little support from my previously extremely helpful school and no access to the Disability Support Services office thanks to the Chancellor telling them that they could no longer work with me, I was basically barred from the university because of my disability.  It was unsafe for me to attend my classes, or even go to school to take my midterms.  And my school had made it clear that they weren’t even going to assist in helping to protect my life, so I had to drop my classes.  And my program of study (the only one of its kind in the area, my dream degree).  And left the University of Washington Tacoma completely.

I would’ve been a third-generation Husky alumni when I graduate; my grandpa and mom were so excited for me.  Now, because my degree was so specific, I’ll have to start back over with 200-level course requirements, which will likely add at least another year, if not two, to my prospective graduation date.  And I have to transfer to another university when I’d wanted to finish not only my BA at my school but also do my grad work at UW Tacoma.  I now wonder if I’ll ever even finish my four-year-degree let alone grad school.  My transcript was beautiful—high honors all around—now I’ll have to explain to future prospective schools why I got all “W’s” (withdrawn) this quarter.

My university decided I was a liability, so I was essentially kicked out of school.  And then left with the bill.  Literally, thousands of dollars in financial aid, student loans, and academic scholarships for a quarter I wasn’t able to complete through no fault of my own.

What’s frustrating is how many staff made sad puppy dog eyes at me, but never did anything because they were afraid.  They were using words like “illegal” and “a violation of your civil rights” and “discrimination based on your disability,” which I feel like should’ve been a call to arms.  But the best I got was pouty faces.

Life has completely turned on ear, I have no idea what this means for me now, and I’m still in shock.

[Update 6/4/2013: Still trying to figure out the whole financial thing.  I’ve been sent a bill for this quarter and until I pay the whole thing in full the university won’t release my transcript, which makes even applying to another school out of the question until that’s figured out.

For those of you who are wondering, I will absolutely be finishing my BA, no need to worry, but my graduation date will be about a year or two farther off than originally expected.  And my diploma will have the insignia of a different university, which after all this I’m honestly not too worked up about.  One possible option at the moment is finishing the last year and a half of my BA online through my former state university’s rival school, Washington State University, which I feel like would add a bit of poetic justice to a very unfortunate, frustrating situation.  I’m all for a bit of irony.]

Allergy Baby’s First Word

food-allergies_thumbYesterday afternoon—a notable day because for the first time in, well, a while Seattle was the hottest major city in the country, the poor little Washingtonians weren’t quite sure how to handle all that foreign sunshine—was spent catching up with my friend Aubrey.  She told me about her retro-themed wedding, their hippie landlords, gardening, and eating gluten-free (something we both share).  I tried to convince her to start a crunchy, foodie-ish blog.  Even promised to comment.  But we’ll see what happens.

Anyway, the story that stood out to me the most as we got caught up was about a little baby Aubrey knows. 

He’s a year old now but when he was only a couple of months old he had food allergy testing done because he’d been having some unusual skin irritation and general health oddities.  The poor little guy came up with 10 food allergies (exactly how many new ones I found out about when I had testing done back in September). 

Aubrey showed me a picture on her phone of Allergy Baby’s back after the testing—so many bright red, itching-looking bumps from where he’d reacted to the test.  Poor little guy.  I remember exactly what that feels like; at least I was big enough though to understand what was happening.

His first word was even … drumroll please … allergic.  As in, “No, baby you can’t have [insert yummy-looking food].” 

“Allergic?”

“Yes, allergic.”

In his little mind allergic might just be a shorthand for “not for babies” or “not for you,” but soon enough he’ll know how in addition to being disappointing the word can also be frustrating, annoying, and even scary.  I hope he also learns though how to stand up for himself and keep himself safe even when people think he’s just being dramatic or weird, to not be embarrassed about being the only allergic kid and to define himself apart from his allergies, and that a limited diet—and all of the other limitations food allergies impose on him—doesn’t mean he can’t live a full, satisfying life.   

What would you want someone new to the allergic life to know?

Allergy Girl Rides the Bus

I realized only after the woman sitting next to me on the bus shot me a funny look that I must have seemed like quite the foodie as I read my new Moroccan cookbook on the way home from work, marking pages with green polka dotted sticky notes.  Despite appearances, I’m not a foodie; just an allergic girl trying to figure out what the heck to eat for dinner.  The chicken kebabs recipe sure looks nice!  Might give that a go sometime when Mr. Munger comes over for dinner. 

Tonight’s dinner is still undecided.  The kebabs are definitely going to happen at some point in the hopefully-not-too-distant future but not until I make a run to the grocery store.  And I’m feeling too lazy for that.  What are the rest of you eating?

Allergic Girl is Getting Married!

302570_2510820009289_356814861_nThis picture was taken in September 2011 while on a vacation to Disneyland with Mr. Munger and his family (we’re on the Dumbo ride).  We’d just gotten engaged a few weeks before and were feeling pretty darn happy. 

Mr. Munger was still attending Western Washington University at the time, so we knew it’d be a while before we were finally able to tie the knot but it was a nice change to say “when” instead of “if.” (Although, the fact that our families had already transitioned to “when” makes me fairly confident our engagement didn’t come as much of a surprise to anyone.)

Well, Mr. Munger graduated in December 2012, got himself all employed, and we just recently set the date for last August! 

The wedding will be simple and safe (safety is an important consideration when you live with food allergies, and I also don’t want to get glutened on my wedding day).  Just immediate family and my grandparents (a whopping twelve people total).  It’ll be at a local park by the water since hopefully the weather will be nice, but you can never be sure you’ll get sunshine in the Seattle area so we’ll also bring umbrellas, sweaters if it looks chilly, and we’re renting a picnic shelter.  The ceremony itself will only last a couple of minutes, and then the family picnic will carry on (if you’re feeling curious, check out the Pinterest board!).  

While it’s fun to finally know when exactly we’re getting married and be able to start buying things like red and white gingham table clothes, what I’m really enjoying is planning out how we’ll decorate our apartment (and, yes, there’s a Pinterest board for that, too).  It’ll be so fun to go buy a kitchen table and dishware.  Exciting!

Only four months and six days until I get married.  Not that I’m counting, of course.

Swan Lake & Peanut Butter: When the Ballet Isn’t Safe

SwanLake2I’m so, so thankful I didn’t end up in the ER yesterday!

The original plan was to watch a friend of mine who I’ve known since I was about five-years-old marry the love of her life.  But due to the potluck nature of the reception and too much of a risk of having a run-in with peanuts or mushrooms (didn’t want to be the party guest who left in an ambulance), I had to settle for sending them happy thoughts and congratulations from elsewhere.  The tagged pics on Facebook are beginning to make their way into my feed, and the new Mr. and Mrs. look happy and adorable.

Plan B: a girls’ date to the Pacific Northwest Ballet’s production of Swan Lake.  While the main reason I wanted to go to the ballet was because I’d never seen Swan Lake performed, it seemed like a safe option for me due to the no-eating-anytime-anywhere-during-the-performance rule.  Unfortunately, the older gentleman sitting directly behind me thought this rule didn’t apply to him as he uncouthly cracked open is Tupperware and chowed down on his PB and J as the orchestra began to play the music for the second act.

I darted around in my seat to confront the offender.  “Is that PEANUTBUTTER?  I’m allergic!”

He began to close the lid while looking puzzled, but by then it was too late.  I tore out of the theater as I felt my throat beginning to close up, Mom and Shannon following close behind.  We wouldn’t be seeing Swan Lake, after all.

I took a Benadryl (the liquid kind, kicks in faster if you put them under your tough) as Mom, Shannon, and several of the employees stood with me in the lobby.  Waiting.  Waiting.  Waiting.  First one didn’t work; means it’s a serious allergy.  Second pill didn’t work; anaphylactic shock is of real concern.  Third one, taking its time; now we’re in crisis mode, and it means using the Epi-Pen followed by a call to 911 and a ride in an ambulance are the next step if things don’t improve.  And quickly.

Shannon later told me that she was so scared all she could pray was, “HELP!”

Finally, the third Benadryl hit with full force—my throat relaxed, I stopped gagging, and I felt like I was about to fall asleep standing up.  To everyone’s relief, we were able to go home instead of visiting with the doctor in the ER.  A major bummer that I still haven’t seen Swan Lake (only made it through the first act), but I felt so thankful to be going home.  Thankful to be alive.

Skipped out on the wedding to avoid peanuts but the day still ended up involving a major allergic reaction.  Drat.  Makes me feel scared to go anywhere.

As for the gentleman who couldn’t wait to eat his sandwich, I wish I could explain to him how even though some of those seemingly arbitrary rules like don’t eat in the ballet, opera, or library might seem dumb and optional, it’s those very rules that make them safe for people with food allergies.  I have to choose my outing based not where I’d most like to go but on where there won’t be food.  Food-free locations are the only places I can safely go.  So, please, just wait to eat your sandwich next time.  Cracking it open can not only ruin someone’s trip to the ballet and put their very life in danger, but when people don’t follow rules about food I can feel my world, where I can safely go, tightening in on me.  My options becoming more and more limited because you can’t wait a few minutes to eat.


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