It was always a running joke between my sister and me that we had to enjoy this doughnut or pizza while we could still eat it. Before we developed the inevitable disease that ran in our family — a severe gluten allergy called Celiac disease.
It took my family and me way too long to figure out that I was also allergic to gluten. After 2 1/2 years of symptoms and too many doctor appointments to count, I finally had the allergy test.
There is nothing quite like receiving game-changing news over an abrupt text from your mom: “Tested positive for Celiac.” What is an appropriate response to that? “K”?
This is pathetic to admit, but I genuinely experienced the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.
It took me all of 30 seconds to completely deny the news. A few hours later, I was angrily crying over my mother’s genetics. Then I was bargaining with myself, thinking I would only eat a little gluten. Maybe just on the weekends? Yeah, Maggie, ‘cause allergies take weekends off.
When I told my dad my genius plan of poisoning my body for the sake of pizza, he made me see clearly. We finally found the answer to all of the health issues. No more doctors. It was over. The next day, I started the gluten-free diet.
Now, I am never depressed, but I was bummed for a long time. The routine of eating the same stupid food got to me quickly. If I did not eat something interesting every once in a while, I would get frustrated. Eventually I got to the point of acceptance, somewhat, but I will always be bitter.
As much as it sucks, you get used to it. At least I was used to it back at home with my mom’s cooking. I had to completely re-evaluate my diet when I came to Gannon. Navigating the dining options here was a pain, mainly because I hate bringing attention to myself and being the “glutenfree girl.”
I know that my order is always complicated. During the first few weeks, I did not use my meal swipes because I was so nervous about finding something to eat. My saviors were the lovely Metz workers behind the sandwich bar at The Cove, who taught me how to perfect the gluten-free sandwich. They get excited every time I come in and never look annoyed when they have to change their gloves three times for my sandwich. Those lovely ladies will always have a place in my heart.
The other aspect I was not prepared for was explaining myself constantly to all the new people I meet.
“Can’t you just have one bite of pizza?” That’s not how allergies work.
“Are you actually allergic?” Unfortunately, yes.
“What happens to you when you eat it?” You don’t want to know.
I get these questions all the time. While I realize that they don’t know any better, it gets old. Most of the time, I just try to avoid the topic all together because it’s just easier.
One of the best parts about meeting new people is finding people who also have Celiac. That’s all I need to know about someone for them to automatically become a close friend.
My favorite thing is talking to someone who understands. I’m thinking of starting a Gluten-Free Geeks club, where we share horror stories while eating gross gluten-free baked goods. Going through something as difficult as not being able to indulge in endless breadsticks at Olive Garden is definitely easier with a few friends.
MAGGIE GRADY
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