Food Challenge 39: Cindy vs. Spinach (aka THE PLAYOFF GAME)

This was the big one. Spinach. A food I hadn’t eaten in years, and never successfully. 27 years of spinach being poison, and today, I willingly consumed it.

In case you’re just finding this blog or don’t remember or just like recaps (have you read Vulture’s recaps of Pretty Little Liars? You have to.), I’ve been taking this medicine called Xolair that has been known to mitigate allergies. I say mitigate, not cure, because 1. it’s an ongoing treatment and if you stop doing it, the allergies come back and 2. it’s doesn’t make the allergies completely go away, it just makes them lessened and builds up a tolerance.

So anyway, after four months of injections, I was ready to see if it was all worth it — if the Xolair made any changes to my IGE levels and body chemistry.

AND IT DID!

I was super nervous in the days running up to the challenge, mildly calmer this morning thanks to certain dream cousins, and nervous/excited/adrenaline-y when I got to the doctor’s office.

I started out by touching the leaves. Previously, being in the same room as too much spinach made me dizzy. Touching it was worse, and involved hives. I ran my fingers, then my palms, over each leaf. It felt like basil. I looked at my hands. They were fine. My arms — fine. My chest — fine. My eyesight was good.

“Do I just like, eat it now? Like straight up put it in my mouth and eat it like it’s food?” I asked my doctor.

“That’s the plan.”

I hesitated, but took a deep breath and ate a leaf.

It didn’t taste like anger, darkness, or sadness, like the previous spinach I’d eaten in my life had. It tasted like a slightly more bitter basil and leafy. I finally get what people mean when they say “leafy greens taste leafy.” They’ve always tasted like the world stopping. The fact that I could now taste “leafiness” and not “sadness” meant I was maybe going to be okay.

Another half a leaf.

I paused.

“Are you going to eat a leaf every hour?” my doctor asked. “Just eat five leaves, and we’ll see what happens. You will be fine.”

“This is a moment! I’m scared!”

The nurse came in, and I started to cry from excitement. From the fact that my allergic reactions are always immediate — a minute, maybe two after consumption — and I had a leaf and a half of spinach swirling somewhere in my body and it had been five minutes or so, and I was FINE.

I downed the other three leaves while I was still brave enough to.

And then I waited…and waited…and waited…

And nothing!

Nothing!

It was like I had just eaten food. And that was all. Not like I lost my coherence, eyesight, breath, what have you. Spinach was like any other food.

My poison had become food.

The Xolair worked.

IT WORKED.

It worked?!

I’m euphoric, as my mom says. I feel surreal. I don’t know what to do with this new paradigm. I took a class in college called “Paradigms of Biological Investigation” about how scientific paradigms shift throughout time (the world once thought science said the world was flat, etc.) I feel like I just did a biological investigation that shifted my paradigm. Spinach was once thought to be poison, but instead it’s food.

***

So next time on Cindy’s allergies…

1. Now that it’s proven the Xolair works, I can eat things I was previously not allergic to before I became allergic to them in 2012 and then unallergic to again after testing. Specifically, wheat. More specifically, beer that isn’t Heineken. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a fave, but grabbing a craft German beer at lunch today in celebration was JOYFUL. Also, COOKIES. Without traces of nuts of course, but COOKIES.

2. I am now going to challenge the other forbidden foods on my list. Weekly, if it all keeps going well. Paradigm will keep shifting.

3. I keep getting the Xolair once a month.

4. At some point, I’ll have proved Xolair is working enough to cross contaminate sort of at restaurants. Maybe eat pizza? Maybe just EAT AT A RESTAURANT.

It was a shock to me to go into full hyperallergic mode. Now I’m coming out of it more than I ever thought I would. Eating out again was on the table, but eating SPINACH? Who am I, Popeye?

May as well be. I’m definitely not Super Allergic Cindy.

 

The spinach -- thanks F & K for dropping it off!

The spinach — thanks F & K for dropping it off!

The first leaf. Scared and excited. #spinachselfie

The first leaf. Scared and excited. #spinachselfie

My fifth leaf! I'm alive! #spinachselfie

My fifth leaf! I’m alive! #spinachselfie

FOOD CHALLENGE TALLY (note: I barely blogged about challenge 38, the 4th tsp of peanut butter because it was boring and I passed)

Cindy: 28

Allergens: 4

Next up: LOX (maybe covered in chocolate…story to come another time).

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So, Are You Gluten-Free?

I am not gluten-free.

First of all, I can eat loads of gluten (loads being a hyperbole. I can have rye, wheat, and barley three times a week each and can’t have spelt yet). I may be cottonseed oil-free, leafy green-free, fish-free, nut-free, pomegranate-free, horseradish-free, plum-free, peach-free, grapefruit-free, cauliflower-free, mushroom-free, gum-free, chickpea-free, etc., but bring on the gluten!

Oh yeah, and second of all, I’m not a food. Or the lack there of.

A cookie can be gluten-free. A burger. A menu option. Even a shampoo. Foods or products that one could suspect contain gluten can, in fact, turn out to be free of gluten.

People, on the other hand, do not contain gluten. Therefore, I’m as gluten-free as the best of them, but I’m also door-free, spoon-free, DVD-free, paper towel-free (is it obvious I’m just naming things I see in my apartment?).

I’m often asked, though, the titular question of this post: “So, are you gluten-free?” I always say, “No, I’m all about gluten, I just can’t have that bread because of x (where x=cottonseed oil; traces of nuts; untrustworthy factory; too-processed; not challenged yet, etc.).

I know it’s not meant to be a hurtful question. And most of the time, I don’t let it become one. I like to pretend I’m impervious to pain. But I’m not. And sometimes, a gnawing thought will come to my mind and I’ll recall the last time someone asked me if I was gluten-free and I just scream to myself, “No, I’m CINDY!”

Cindy.

I am a writer, a leader, an advocate, a doer, a thinker, a consultant, a reader, a TV-fanatic, a dog lover, a student, a teacher, a cook, a dancer, a rapper, a comedian, an ENFJ who teeters on the lines of ENTP. A friend, a daughter, a sister, a granddaughter, an aunt, a niece, a cousin, a person. A Jew, a New Yorker, a Brooklynite, a Brandeisian, a sort-of Angelino, a Trojan.

I’m reminded of an art exhibit I read about recently that I can’t stop thinking about. A group of people were photographed with writing on their body indicating an identifying factor, and the photos were accompanied by a caption indicating what they were not. (http://www.tabletmag.com/scroll/161489/provocative-photo-project-goes-viral-among-orthodox-students#undefined). I often ponder the questions of identity (there’s a whole rabbit hole there, and this isn’t the blog for it. Please see my other blog at www.aliceinwonderland.com for those questions #notreallymyblog), and I think some of that is because my identity often gets taken away from me.

What I mean is, I often first meet people in the context of meals. Food is how we socialize these days — especially in the Jewish community — so the first thing most people learn about me outside of a professional environment is “Cindy is allergic to lots of things (but isn’t gluten-free).” That’s fine, and my life depends on it, but there’s so much more. See above. That’s a partial list. And while I’m “the girl with the many food allergies” I’m not just “the girl with the many food allergies.” And I don’t want to be.

So why keep this blog, you ask? You, meaning anyone who’s ever had the above conversation with me in real life. For a few reasons. One, to update my family and friends on my challenge status. I neglected to mention in my “identity paragraph” (ew) that I’m a social butterfly (BH, that one’s for you, and for everyone else, it’s tongue-in-cheek). I live far away from my family and many friends, and this blog allows me to keep them (you?) updated with my progress without having to make a bunch of phone calls. Two, to keep a log for myself. I could keep a private diary, but the motivation is stronger when I know I’m accountable to an audience. This log has proven helpful as I’ve decided what to challenge, as I’ve looked back on recipes, as I’ve struggled to remember how far I’ve come. Records are important, and this is mine. Three, when I was first experiencing increased symptoms, I turned to Google because I was too scared to talk to most of my friends (though, T, thank you again for being my constant G-chat support and Benedryl enforcer). I found blogs to be helpful resources, but also primarily geared toward mothers or people who had more common allergies. I wanted to be a voice in the space for someone with multiple allergies, in their 20s, who had the allergies forever but saw them get worse. And some of you have reached out to me letting me know I’ve helped you — which means everything. When I see someone’s search query “allergy to horseradish???” I know that I made them feel like they weren’t crazy, something that’s rarely been done for me. In turn, and this is number Four, by seeing people’s queries, by interacting with readers, I feel like I’m not crazy. Someone else is allergic to horseradish. Therefore, I’m not making it up in my own life.

All of the above wins in the cost/benefit analysis of my identity issue. But. That doesn’t mean I want to be Super Allergic Cindy. I just want to be Cindy, whose food allergies are impactful but not any more identifying than someone’s IBS, cancer, insomnia, ADHD, etc. Not that those are all equal, but you get the point. Everyone’s got something. I have this. But that doesn’t mean I am this. Tener and Ser are two different verbs (thank you, Duolingo!)

I don’t need anyone to validate my scope of identity. But I would like it to be invalidated less often. And I know I’m not alone in this. So, instead of asking “Are you gluten-free?” next time someone doesn’t reach for the bread, try one of these two options:

1. Don’t ask anything, and let them not eat bread. Who are you, Marie Antoinette?

2. Ask, “Would you like me to steer clear of you with the bread because of a dietary restriction?”

Or, I guess, 3. “Do you not eat gluten/do you only eat gluten free?

Same goes for all food-related things. If you must know, ask about the food, not the person. But maybe don’t ask, and wait for someone to say something. My friend wrote an excellent piece about this on his new blog about living with Type 1 Diabetes, how we don’t know why other people eat the way they do and shouldn’t make assumptions about their habits. He’s right. And I promise, if my life is in danger, I’ll let you know.

Because I’m Cindy. And among other things, I’m the furthest thing from shy.

This is Cindy.

This is Cindy.

This is food.
This is food.