Chapter Three : When Food Feels Dangerous

No one really prepares you for the day food starts to feel dangerous.

Which is almost funny, considering I spent most of my life with a shellfish allergy. I was anaphylactic. I carried an EpiPen. I avoided shellfish and went about my life.

It never scared me.

FPIES is different.

Yes, FPIES is not considered life-threatening in the same way anaphylaxis is, but it can completely take you out for hours. The violent reaction, the pain, the inability to function - it is hard to explain just how awful it is, especially when you’re not at home.

What makes it even harder, is how little it can take to trigger a reaction.

And when I say little, I mean little.

A crumb.

One crumb can be enough.

For years, I was unknowingly exposing myself to my triggers. I didn’t know I had FPIES. I didn’t know mustard and canola oil belonged to the same family. I couldn’t eat broccoli, cauliflower, and several related vegetables, but we never understood why. Because I was constantly consuming small amounts of my triggers, I was always unwell in some capacity.

Now that I’ve removed them completely, my reactions are stronger and my body is significantly more sensitive.

This is where food started to feel dangerous.

At my six-month follow-up appointment with my allergy immunologist, I asked two questions.

First: How worried should I be about cross-contamination?

Second: Are my reactions getting worse because I’m no longer constantly exposing myself to my allergens?

His answer stopped me in my tracks.

He looked at me and said, “I could give you more arsenic than the amount of allergen it would take to trigger your FPIES reaction.”

That sentence has never left me.

Because suddenly, this wasn’t just about avoiding certain foods.

It was about understanding that something almost invisible could make me incredibly sick.

The other night, I was plating pasta for dinner and a piece of penne fell onto the counter.

Normally, I would have picked it up and eaten it without a second thought. Our counters are clean.

But I froze.

My brain immediately started asking questions.

What had touched that spot since we cleaned it after lunch?

Had a grocery bag been set there?

A takeout container?

Something with canola oil in it?

Would there have been enough residue to matter?

I stood there staring at a single piece of pasta on my own kitchen counter, trying to calculate risk.

And that’s when it hit me.

This isn’t just an allergy.

This is life-changing.

Not because I can’t eat certain foods.

But because I now have to think about food in a way I never had to before.

I am very thankful my brain has adjusted so quickly to calculating risk and keeping me safe while I continue to learn how to navigate this new life.

Thank you for being here. 💕