Key Connection

Key Connection.

I've been giving it some thought -- why is it that those who end up being my food servers provide me with such exceptional service?  Why do they go the extra mile to facilitate me?  I'd love to believe that all humans are inherently good... But I've lived too long and seen far too much to fall for that one.

Why do they seem to genuinely take an interest in my surviving the meal?

Here again, the cynicist in me wants to blurt out that they are litigiously aware.  Most likely true in a good percentage of the cases, but not all.  So what gives?

Methinks it could be the same thing that makes one either a player in the politics of life, or an outsider.  It's what distinguishes an employee with a career, versus that with a job.  It's what makes a legendary baseball player like Willie Mays or Joe DiMaggio an icon.  Didn't you root for The Say Hey Kid to become the Home Run King?  Didn't you care about Joe when Marilyn died -- didn't your heart go out to him?

Relationships.  At the most basic, primative level, it's all about connection.

Connecting makes the difference between someone vesting an interest in you, or merely observing you.  It distinguishes you from the general masses.  Even though most of us never shook Willie's hand, he took a place in our hearts.  On some level, we all identified with him and connected -- he engaged us and we wanted him to set new records, and elevate the game of baseball to new heights.  We wished Joe and Marilyn the "happily-ever-after" -- the "Bronx boy who made good" and Hollywood's sexiest, star-crossed kitten... And we were subsequently heartbroken, not just for the world's loss, but for Joe's loss as a husband.

Each engaged us with their charm, flare, character and personality -- their humanity -- and reeled us in.  They distinguished themselves above the crowd, and made themselves more than just a number on a jersey, or today's flavor of starlet.  On some level, we identified with them and allowed them to touch our hearts.  From that point on, we vested our interests in them, and cared about their joys, sorrows, successes and failures.

They connected.  Very much like fishermen, who throw a line out into the waters, dangle their most alluring lure, and take us in as we bite.

Isn't that what you do when you engage your manager or supervisor at work?  And, if not, why not?  Cast out your lure and then reel him/her in.  This is what makes the difference between a manager who will get you the cost-of-living 2.3% raise, versus the one who will push for you to get an unheard of 7%, because you're a "good guy/gal" and "valued worker".

The reality is, you can be a mediocre performer, but if you have a nurtured connection with your manager, you are more likely to get the better treatment than the person who has no connection with the manager.

Connection = Interest.  Caring, to some degree.

So now, use your fabulous humanistic charm to connect with your food service provider within the first five minutes of interaction -- if you can do this, you will tip the odds in your favor in terms of safety.  Each time we venture out into a public place, we take a gamble... a gamble as to whether or not we will come into contact with our nemeses in one way or another... Whether it be by direct or indirect ingestion (e.g. eating a food you are allergic to, or a non-allergen that was prepared on surfaces comtaminated with allergens), direct or indirect contact (e.g. having an allergen come into contact with your skin, or having a person touch your skin with a body part that had touched an allergen)... or even via indirect contact (again, on another person's body) with a cosmetic that contains an allergen.  There are a host of subtle and not-so-subtle triggers for a reaction.

Make those key connections.  Educate those around you.  Make people aware that you have life-and-death sensitivities, and help them to identify with you in a meaningful, human way... Speak to them with your heart so that they can empathize, sympathize and willingly conscript in your army of protectors.

And always be vigilantly observant.  Sometimes others get distracted.  It's your life, not theirs.

Secrets

Secrets.

When you're winding your way through life -- for example, traveling home from a day of work -- do you ever look at the passers-by and wonder... What's that person's secret?  Who is that person?  What's going on inside his/her head?  Is s/he simple or complex?   Does s/he live her/his life on her/his sleeve, or is there a secret component?   Is it a secret only because I spy him/her in passing?  Or does s/he have a full-fledged, bowl-you-over SECRET?

I do.  Wonder.  Constantly.

No, smarty, I don't have too much free time on my hands.

But sometimes, when I  pause long enough to watch the action go by, I wonder.  Do others wonder about me?  Everyone has secrets... There is no such thing as a book that is 100% open -- there is only the illusion.  Most of us don't even know a fraction of the secrets our subconsciouses keep from our conscious selves.  

Would they, or could they guess one of the secrets that only gets airtime when a gift is given, or a dining experience is suggested?  Let's take this one step further... Could my conscious self have ever guessed that my body would flip me into immune system overdrive 37 years into the game?

R U Single?

R U Single?

If you're Single, you might be subject to The Dating Game.  If you're single, perhaps not.  In any case, time to rewrite the rules.

Feel free to let the Diva/Divo within have a little fun... After all, if you're looking for relationship growth and depth, a perspective partner should be accepting of you and all aspects of your lifestyle.  The person should be as concerned about your health as though it was his/her own.  There really is very little room for vascillation -- the person must work with you to ensure that your life experiences are safe, or the person does not have what it takes to go the long haul.

At first, understanding what it means for a person to live an anaphylactic lifestyle can seem daunting to your new partner... But after the initial shock, the next stage should be characterized by learning and understanding.  Fascination (as in, "Oooh, looky!  A new toy!") should not be confused with a sincere zest for learning.  The former is a sign that the person truly cares for your well-being, and the latter is the sign of someone who's dating style is more a manifestation of ADHD.  

The learner will ask questions (sometimes lots), so as to understand your allergy, how it makes you feel, the warning signs, etc.  Try to be patient -- this is what s/he needs to do to come to an intelligent comfort with your reality. This person will probably ask if you have medication, and, in the event that you have a reaction, what the course is and specifically how to administer it to you.  This person will not think twice about abandoning one restaurant for another, or reordering his/her kitchen, if it means your safety.  Your safe, healthy company is far more important than all else.

The ADHD variety might ask probing questions out of curiosity... You're an interesting phenomenon... To be studied... Until the point when it's no longer a fun mystery.  This type might also never ask questions... Might show a curious lack of interest in the fact that random carelessness could mean the difference between life and death for you...  No matter what words burst forth from this person's lips, believe her/his actions and not the sizzle... A lack of sincere interest in your lifestyle speaks of her/his lack of sincere interest in you... And foretells that s/he will amount to nothing more than a passing ship in your night.

Such is life.  Destiny has given us one leg up on sorting out the mice from the humanoids....

Assorted Idiots -- Part III

 

Part III of the Idiot 'ilogies.

So, you've survived the long road trip without meal-like sustenance... Merely nibbling on the vegetarian snacks you've packed in the event of emergency.  Okay... "nibbling" was genteel... You've scarfed down nuts as though your life depended on it... Your body is now craving piping hot flesh, and at least one leafy, greeny vegetable.  Your mood won't be warm and rosy until you get it.

The glass can not be full unless a hot meal comes with it.

Oh yeah... we're talking one step away from going primitive.

You check into a charming, little hotel... Quite nicely appointed and off the beaten track -- perfect for your weekend getaway.  However, your allergen-meter goes on alert when you spy horses gently grazing on the property.  Horse dander and you have never been on friendly terms -- in fact, the last time you went for a horseback ride, you dismounted covered in hives from the belly-button down.  Not a deal-breaker, but definitely a reason not to go for long walks on this particular property.  Once the body goes into allergen-response mode, it seems as though it reacts more sensitively to the allergens it comes into contact with subsequently.

You check in and then go up to your double room.  It's a rustic hotel, and it looks as though it doesn't have A/C.  You immediately claim the bed near the window... purely because "She who is near the window controls its opening and closing," in theory.  If you can keep it closed, you'll hopefully minimize your allergen response...  Your BFF is happy to claim the other bed, and you both plop down for a second -- after the long ride, it feels good to stretch out on a mattress.  

BFF starts reading aloud from one of the brochures she picked up at the desk -- there's an attraction nearby -- you could conceivably check it out before dinner.  "After dinner," you correct her.  You are stAAAAAAARVing and nothing will keep you away from a succulent half of a cornish hen, roasted 'til crispy- brown with an herbal rub and surrounded by new potatoes, broiled in a buttery, rosemary glaze... Or a horseradish and sesame-crusted tuna steak, lightly grilled so that the center is still raw... With julienned ginger, zucchini and summer squash...  Or maybe even chicken korma, with chunks of dried fruits and whole cashews, with an extra green chilly for good measure -- and, of course, how can it be ingested without a delicious tadhka daal, basmati and -- oh, let's go all out -- a kerala paratha!  And wash it all down with a glass of red Sula, and a generous helping of 3 gulab jamuns....  Ohhh... Your heart races just thinking about an imminent feast.

"Why?"  BFF asks.  After all, she just ate a couple of hours ago.  

After a bit of clever coaxing, you're on your way to a restaurant that was highly recommended by the reception clerk.  When you get there, you find it's slightly more than a pub -- which is fine -- you just need one good, "stick to the ribs" kind of meal, and pub fare will do the job just as well as haute cuisine.

You alert the hostess that you have deadly food allergies, and ask if they can accommodate you.  "Sure!" she says, without much hesitation.  

Okay, perhaps that's a good sign....

You're seated at a table that offers a lovely view of the gardens -- you're both quite pleased with the rustic charm of the place. You open the menu and discuss the selections, as you begin to narrow your choices.  A bit of girl-talk and giggling ease into the mix... your stomach's growling, but you're still able to enjoy the perks of being a girl.  During the conversation, you take out a flash card and place it on the table - readying for the most important conversation you will have all day.  It's as though you're operating on two levels of consciousness -- on the one, you MUST eat -- and, on the other, it's nice having a couple of days away with your BFF.  Not long afterwards, the waiter comes to take your drink order and announce today's specials.  You then make your announcement. 

Virtually the same words every time... but you tailor them to the listener -- go into more depth here and there, as you gauge whether or not you have connected with the person's comprehension... all you need is for him to understand, then he can take your flash card and be your worthy messenger.

You connect, and the waiter says he will speak with the chef.  In his absence, conversation turns to another girlfriend who just gave birth to twins.  You both try to wrap your heads around how she is handling two sets of hungry mouths and poopy bottoms when the waiter returns.  He says that he'll take your order and then consult with the chef.  You both place your orders.  Yours is strategically chosen to demand the least customization of all the selections -- baked salmon and garlic-sauteed spinach... healthy and simple.  You specify that you don't need any garnish, and that they should just place the fish and spinach on the plate without anything else.  The "no garnish" concept was a bit difficult -- garnishing a plate is normally a thoughtless endeavor -- but garnish awareness is essential for a successful dining experience, so... the waiter disappears into the kitchen with your orders.

BFF asks why you have to take so much time to explain your requirements to the waiter... "Every time!  I mean, gosh... Doesn't it get embarrassing for you?"  Somehow, it comes through that the embarrassment BFF refers to is more hers than yours.  Not quite sympathetic.

Your friend nibbles on the bread, but you cannot -- you have no idea whether the ingredients are safe, so you abstain... that leaves more room for the food that you're paying for anyway... oh yesss... every, delectable morsel of salmon....

The waiter comes back with a few questions about the foods on your flash card.  You answer, in hopes that this will help them determine how they will prepare your dish.  The aroma of the dishes on the surrounding tables makes your stomach growl even louder.  "Mmmm... the food here smells great!"  BFF says, looking around at the other tables.  You look around also, thinking, "Finally!  My one, square meal of the day."

The waiter comes back, bringing your flash card.  "We're sorry, but the chef said that the oils we use all contain sunflower, and we don't use any other type of cooking oil."

"Butter?" you offer.

"We use a margarine spread that contains sunflower.  So we can't make the salmon and spinach for you.  We can steam some carrots and broccoli for you, though.  We would steam them and we know you would be fine."

You look at BFF, who does a reverse-nod and says, "That sounds good to me.  Will it be ready with my sliders?  We're hungry!"  She bats her lashes.

The waiter responds, "Yes."  He turns to you, "Are you okay with the broccoli and carrots?"  You're disappointed that BFF still wants to eat here... despite her sudden hunger and lack of empathy, you give in, since you need to eat something other than fruit and nuts sooner rather than later.  He disappears into the kitchen.

"Why couldn't we go some place else?  I've just eaten fruits and nuts today -- I'm going to grow feathers!"  He had barely disappeared, when this sentiment burst from your lips. 

Okay, that lacked subtlety.

"What do you mean?  You're going to have vegetables -- that's better than nuts, right?"  BFF says this without a trace of deeper understanding.

Your mouth literally drops open... which is good... it's best that you check your initial response for something more tactful.  "I'm not a vegetarian, Bea.  Organic - yes.  Vegetarian - no. They're not the same.  I need one square meal a day, at minimum... and I really am craving fish or chicken."

"Oh... I didn't know.  Can we just stay and then we can go somewhere else tomorrow?"  Just as these words are out of BFF's mouth, the waiter arrives with your food.  Her sliders make you salivate, despite the fact that you don't eat beef.  Your steamed carrots and broccoli look more boiled than steamed... and when you take your first bit, you realize that they did not use any seasoning -- not even salt.  Your eyes water.

You've known BFF since the year after your anaphylactic diagnosis more than a decade ago.  If she doesn't understand by now, she never will

Rebranding of Anaphylaxes Axis

Happy Independence Day!

"Anaphylaxes Axis" has been renamed "Anaphylaxis Axis".  This change will make it easier for  readers to find these pages from search engines.  Please feel free to follow by email or subscribe to a feed so as to keep up with the latest and greatest!

Assorted Idiots - Part II

Part II of the Idiot 'ilogies

We're still at the rest stop.  You're still eyeing the possible antagonists... The grilled sausage sandwich regards you with contempt... You can feel its disdain emanating from its greasy perch under the heat lamp.  The home fries menacingly dare you to chow down on their leathery texture.    The smell of grease and assorted mixed allergens assault your nostrils, as your stomach muscle tightens...  

It has not escaped your notice that your friend has been putting some physical distance between the two of you... She hasn't glanced your way over the past few minutes, and seems to be avoiding any kind of eye contact or acknowledgement of your connection.  She happily trades small talk with the food server, as your sweat glands go into activation...  

You finally determine that the safest choice on the menu has got to be the lone, buttermilk biscuit in the far left corner of the display... It's nested in an area that is seemingly separated from the other foods, the nearest of which are not known allergens... As a matter of fact, there's a full three and a half feet in between the biscuit and the nearest known offender.  Do you dare?  Your friend happily pays for her purchase, and motions that she is going to take a table for the two of you.  She plays "oblivious to your anxiety" almost convincingly....

Ok... You've made the decision -- why are you still uneasy?

The little voice inside your head (note: "the", not "a") says to ask a specific question.  So, you launch into "ingratiate yourself then scare the living bejeezus out of 'em"-mode, greeting the food server energetically, asking how s/he is doing today prior to working "I have a deadly food allergy and I'm wondering whether you might be able to safely accommodate me here today...?" into the conversation.   As expected, the server's eyes pop open, and s/he asks you to repeat what you just said.  You hand over your flash card, and wait for the server to read through it.  You field her/his questions, as s/he rubs her/his chin in contemplation.  The server tells you that s/he can make you plain eggs to go with that buttermilk biscuit.  And now... The question.  

"What type of cooking oil do you use?"

"Vegetable oil.". The server answers without any thought to the fact that this ingredient is on your flash card.  Bolded.

"Vegetable oils are usually a mixture of two or more oils.  Could you please read the ingredients and tell me what they are?"  This is what your intuition had perceived via the ethers... Rightfully, you press.

The server ambles over to the grill, and takes the oil spray can in hand, looking for the ingredients label.  "Hmmm... It says corn and sunflower.  Hey, that's on your list."

You're hungry.  "Was it used to prepare the biscuit?"

"I'm not sure.  We don't make them here... I wonder if we have the ingredients for the biscuit somewhere..."

You look at the display again, and notice a gleaming layer of something resembling oil or grease along the bottom of the display.  You realize that you're probably going to be really hungry for some time to come... Unless you pop open one of your pistachio snack bags.  And you've been snacking,  handful at a time for the past couple of hours... You were really hoping for something other than this birdfood....  In your haze, you hear the server pipe up that they do "throw" the biscuits on the grill for a quick "browning" of their tops.  You thank her/him for her/ his efforts politely, and then turn to find your friend... Who is inhaling massive quantities of untouchable food.  Your stomach growls audibly, as all you can do is watch her eat.

What a garish sight.