The Boston-area literary magazine Pangyrus recently published a braided essay I wrote about the impact of being severely allergic to food containing dairy products. The incident around which the piece is constructed was my accidental March 2023 ingestion of some kind of dairy product in spite of ordering an oat milk latte and a vegan burrito (presumably dairy-free) at an upscale Seattle coffee shop. My rapid consumption led to a trip to the ER.

Ironically, later that afternoon, I had been slated to attend a session at the writers’ conference about writing about one’s disabilities. I was most looking forward to meeting writer Sandra Beasley, someone whose work has delved into her life-altering and life-threatening food allergies. Sadly, I was sitting in an ER bay with epinephrine and steroids flowing through my veins when Sandra started speaking on her panel. I had to later watch her session online from the safety of my Boston area home.

Here’s how the Pangyrus essay begins:

A black bulldog, strapped into a red harness, peers over its person’s shoulder and stares at me. We’re in a line at a small, indie coffee shop, where I’m jonesing for some of that famous Seattle coffee. The bulky canine in front of me, indifferently sniffing the air once I become a boring subject to observe, is likely hoping for a morsel of some of the baked goods the scents of which are subtly threaded through the heavy coffee aroma. 

A New Englander, I’m a regular at my local Dunkin’ Donuts, although I occasionally go to Starbucks to splurge for an oat milk latte. Most mornings, I use my Keurig machine to brew two cups of coffee, hoping that the caffeine will force my brain to focus, like when you need to reboot a laptop. Control. Alt. Delete. 

This coffee shop near Lake Union, not far from one of the several Google office buildings in the city, is brimming with Millennials and Gen Zers, many in running gear and coated with a thin sheen of perspiration. The room is loud as benign chatter bounces off the spartan walls. I feel the sound in my chest. Scott and I — early Gen Xers — definitely feel our age.

To read the rest of the essay in which I experience anaphylactic shock — see the pics above of me in the ER AFTER I’d been injected with medications, when the swelling around my eyes had lessened and I was able to breath easier — click here.

Image credit: Pangyrus.