Sunflowers in the dark
There's been swirling clouds and puddles of pollen about, and pollen-colored vehicles seem to be the newest trend. But I have to worry instead about sunflower, of all things.
Sunflower oil and lecithin are both hidden in a ton of food, usually in trace amounts. I only learned about my allergy after making a smoothie using sunflower butter in place of peanut butter, the taste of which I've never liked, during a brief attempt to introduce more heart-healthy fats into my diet. The allergic reaction lasted 15 minutes at most, probably because I only took a couple of sips before feeling off. Either way, I didn't feel the need to scrutinize any and all ingredient lists for the stuff after that. I simply avoided eating sunflower seeds or anything that was specifically sunflower-based, and I was fine.
Fast forward to this past month, where I learned the hard way that many protein bars these days are being made with an unprecedented amount of sunflower for two reasons: (1) companies are wanting to reduce the # of allergens in their products, and peanuts and tree nuts are naturally their first choice to be rid of; and (2) sunflower is easier to digest than most proteins.
All I wanted was a yummy chocolate chip cookie dough flavor to snack on and keep me full, damnit. Instead I ate the entire bar and got a swollen face, numb lips, bloodshot eyes, hot flashes, wheezy breathing, and a full body rash.
This happened near the end of my work day, when everyone in my office had already left. So I went to sit by the security guards at the entrance, where luckily they had Benadryl on hand. I ended up crashing at a hotel (my commute is ~2 hours), drowsy and feverish and itchy as hell.
Surprisingly, the worst part of all this was not the myriad of unpleasant things my body experienced, but the anxious thoughts that told me I was faking the allergic reaction—
Please believe me.
I promise I'm not exaggerating.
This kind of stuff always happens when I'm alone... but that's a good thing, right? I don't want anyone to worry about me, anyway...
How small do you want me?
I sound like a completely different person on the phone? Better not sound normal for the rest of the day, then, or they'll roll their eyes.
The rash. I need to take a picture of the rash.
My word isn't good enough.
They believe me. They want me to see an allergist and get an EpiPen. That means they believe me.
Even if I logically know I'm safe, even if I've felt safe for years—
This is the result of a lifetime of invisible (mental) illness, quiet grief, and being questioned constantly.