A nightmare

Have you ever woken up, and thought, maybe for just a split second, that perhaps yesterday was just a nightmare?

I did that today.

After a scary weekend of allergic reactions to an unknown substance, I went to the doctor this week and had some blood work done to see if I was allergic to anything. I got the results yesterday, and they're not good. In fact, I feel like someone has suddenly taken away any shred of freedom and independence I may have had.

According to that blood test, I am allergic to dairy, eggs, wheat, soy, corn, peanuts, walnuts, and sesame seeds. I was expecting maybe one or two things, but everything?

At first, I thought I could handle it. I eat very healthily anyway, so I'll just make substitutions, right? That worked until I realized I was allergic to the substitutions as well. Anything that's made gluten-free (without wheat) is usually made with at least some corn flour, but I can't eat corn. Anything made without eggs usually involves corn starch. Anything without dairy usually has soy in it. Even packaged dressings and condiments have corn syrup and soybean oil in them.

I literally cannot eat anything from the grocery store.

I have to make everything from scratch.

Now, if I stayed at home all day, this would be somewhat feasible. I could carefully control my food intake. This isn't possible, though, because in addition to a full time job, I'm also a grad student. I barely have time to take a shower in the morning and water my garden in the evening, there's no way in hell I have time to whip up a vinaigrette from scratch every time I have a salad.

But the thing is, I have no choice.

Yesterday, I was really sad. I cried a lot. Today I'm angry and bitter.

Think about how many things in our lives revolve around food. Birthday parties, nights out with friends, weddings, parties, church events. I can't participate in any of it, because there's no way of telling what's in something or how it was prepared. I can no longer eat at any of my favorite restaurants. I can't eat at any restaurants.

My two favorite things to do are to cook and to travel. Cooking has lost all of its joy, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to travel because I will never be able to eat anywhere.

I have an appointment with an allergist that's supposed to help me sort all this out and do some further testing, but it's not for three more weeks. There's a chance that I won't always be allergic to all of these things, but there's no way to know.

And in the meantime I have to somehow focus on work and finishing the semester of grad school.

I'm sorry this post is so depressing. I know I should be cheerful and chipper, determined to overcome and beat this, but I'm not. I'm just overwhelmed. And defeated.

So very defeated.

My Constant Companion

Yep, somehow I managed to get poison ivy on the first yard work day of the spring. And I even kept myself busy potting herbs while Lee and some helpers did the dirty work of pulling out a bunch of old fence and brush, just so I wouldn't touch any of the stuff. But still, it found me, via Lee or the dog or some clothes. Ridiculous. I spent most of Easter weekend on ice like an oyster, cleaning and slathering my wounds with Caladryl in an attempt to avoid a doctor visit and the inevitable steroid shot (overused immune system suppressent! aak!). My avoidance turned out to be in vain, though . . . after I started to swell up like a balloon and could barely move, I gave in, and am now altering between jittery from the 'roids and sleepy from the copious amounts of benedryl i've had to take. Fun. Times.

Oh well, I'm started to heal today. As much as I like to forgo traditional meds in favor of natural alternatives, sometimes it's helpful.

cullinary therapy

(image source)

I am a firm believer in making soup.

Soup is the best, cheapest kind of therapy available. Eating it is great, but making it and then eating it is even better. Rainy day? Make soup. Feeling sick? Make soup. Budget tight? Make soup. In need of some comfort food? Make soup. Need to feed a lot of people? Make soup. While I tend to make at least a pot a week in the fall and winter, I'm usually less inclined to start boiling broth and chopping veggies when it's 95 degrees outside. But every once in a while we get a cooler, rainy day like today, and I can tune out the news, hum along to some Frank or Dean, and start tending to a pot of soup, and all is right with the world once more - for a little while.

The Simple Life

(picture from kitchengardens.org)

Yesterday I hung a load of clothes out to dry on my front porch. I’m sure our house looked like redneck central, clothesline strung haphazardly between the porch posts and our socks and undies waving in the breeze at passersby. But I don’t care. I love it.

We do all of our laundry that way, actually. At first, it was because we had to – we had a washer but not a dryer. But now I keep putting off purchasing a dryer because I love letting the hot summer wind do the job for me. Maybe it’s nostalgia – I remember watching my grandmother do the same – but I get a small thrill whenever I haul a load of freshly-washed towels out the front door.

I like simple things. Summer makes me want iced tea (unsweet!) and lemonade. I prefer cooking to going out. I’d rather walk the dog than go to the gym. Now that I finally live in a house, I’ve planted some flowers and herbs, and I’m extremely proud of the baby tomatoes popping up on my three potted tomato plants. Next year I’m hoping to plot out a tiny garden in the backyard.

I’ve also recently become aware of the dangers of basic hygiene products. I grew up eating wheat bread, taking vitamins, and cleaning the house with vinegar, but who knew that toxic chemicals were lurking in my shampoo? And laundry detergent, and cosmetics, and toothpaste, and the list goes on and on (click here for a link to a great article on shampoo, and here for one on parabens). I’ve become an even more obsessive label-reader, and have switched my shampoo to Burt’s Bees and use aloe vera gel in my hair instead of styling products (I can honestly say my hair has never been happier). The all-natural mascara, on the other hand, is taking some time to get used to – it smells terrible in the tube, but it does work pretty well. And at least it’s not toxic.

The shampoo discovery was just the beginning of a massive greening effort that will probably take me some time. I’m grateful for a supportive husband, even if he’s not fully convinced of the dangers. He’s even switched to mineral-based deodorant and natural toothpaste, and that, my friends, is love. Seran wrap and Ziplock bags are next on my hit list. I’m about to purchase some giant stackable bins to expand my recycling effort. We’re also drawing up plans to build a permanent clothesline in the backyard, so our skivvies won’t be on display to the neighborhood.

lessons of the week

• Extra Hot Rotel is not an acceptable substitute for salsa. Though it may be suitable if you have misplaced your neti pot.

• If you ever need help fast, call a friend, not the police department. Arrival time of Jason, Katie, Bryan, Ruth, & Cara: 8 minutes. Arrival time of Chattanooga's finest: 30 minutes. The PD's number will go into my phone, but the others just got promoted to speed dial.

• The first few months of marriage aren't pie in the sky by and by. Those comments of "Oh, it'll all be glorious for a while, then reality will come crashing in" can be ignored. Reality has no grace period.

• "Home" is a completely different concept to different people, even different generations. My grandmother's generation lived much more permanently than mine or even my parents'. Home to her is the specific house she shared with my grandfather for so many years, and she is grieving over the leaving of simple things like azaleas and forsythia bushes. My mother's ideal home is one with her children living nearby. And I'm just longing for a home with a little bit of stability, one that can keep me and my husband in the same place for more than a few days at a time. Really though, I think we're all yearning for the same thing. We were created for a better Home.