Story:I hate doctor's offices. Pretty much everyone there is sick and spreading germs. Everything you touch is likely a candidate for a level four biological lab analysis.
We were at the paediatrician the other day for Spencer. The office, as usual, was crammed. The wait, as usual, was hours long. There was a talkative, pierced and tattooed lady sitting next to us. Her daughter, she says, is affectionate. Actually, the school told her the girl was too affectionate. The five-year-old was going around the room, hugging each and every kid in the room, including my kids.
"Oh, she's just getting over pneumonia," the mom says.
"GREAT!" I think to myself. "Why don't you just let her spread some bubonic plague while she's at it? Everyone in this room is in a weakened state, and your kid is spreading pneumonia! Rein in your kid, why don't ya?!!!"
Michelle politely nods, while I try to hold in my contempt.
Three days later, I get sick. Today, I get to see the doctor for yet another chest infection. Thanks, affectionate brat.
The real reason we were at the paediatrician was for allergy tests for Spencer. He has recurring asthma and eczema, so allergy tests usually accompany these conditions. We had already figured out that he was likely allergic to strawberries, because his skin gets all splotchy from it.
As you're sitting there waiting for the results, you say to yourself, "Please, don't let him be allergic to peanuts. Please don't let him be allergic to peanuts. Please, please, please."
Looking at the scratch test, the doctor writes down a couple forms of mould, feathers, strawberries (no surprise there), cats, and, to my horror, peanuts.
"We're going to have to prescribe an epi-pen," the doctor says. My wife nods, while I am in stage five disbelief. I have dozens of questions to ask, but the doctor has no time, and is soon out the door.
I call bovine feces on this diagnosis. While he has shown reactions to strawberries, he sat down last week with a jar of peanut butter and pigged out. He probably ate most of a cup of peanut butter. A good chunk of his Halloween candies were probably peanut-butter related. Last weekend, he and I gorged ourselves on cashews and almonds. If he was actually allergic to peanuts, we'd have buried him by now.
Peanut butter allergies are the bane of a parent's existence. It turns parents into anti-peanut Nazis, and kids into perpetual victims.
Your child instantly becomes a bubble boy. You have to be ever vigilant with everything they are exposed to, because a trace of peanut supposedly could have dire consequences, even death. You end up sending an epi-pen with them wherever they go. Warnings are given to babysitters and friends. Church luncheons are likely a minefield.
Schools have banned the use of peanuts or peanut butter for anything going in a school lunch as a result. I don't know why it seems every kid has some sort of allergy these days. Maybe it's due to the highly processed, toxic environment we live in, where every day there's another warning that some innocuous product is linked to cancer.
Looking in the grocery store the next day, we find plenty of granola bars, but almost no cookies, made in a peanut-free facility. Every label you look at says, "May contain peanuts/nuts."
Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!
Everywhere you look, the labels say Danger! It makes growing up a diabetic seem like a walk in the park in comparison.
In the coming weeks, we're getting a hopefully more conclusive blood test done. I strongly think Spencer cross-contaminated the test by scratching. No matter what you do, it's impossible to keep a three-year-old from scratching.
It's also pretty tough to get a three-year-old to avoid certain foods. More like impossible.
I just hope in the future, this will be cleared up and my diagnosis trumps the doctor's. I really don't want to deal with bubble boy syndrome, for Spencer's sake.
Brian Zinchuk is editor of Pipeline News. He can be reached at [email protected].
