This week I was wading through my weighty file of health-related papers when I stumbled across a medical mystery.
I had been searching for vaccination documents for my new hospital job when I found a surprising gastroenterology letter from 2010. It stated blood tests showed I did NOT have coeliac disease. For some reason this information is not on file at my GP’s – maybe due to me moving house or miscommunication from hospital to GP.
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I had a gorgeous baby girl, Amalie, in March. But on top of all the usual new parent stresses (no sleep, never-ending nappy changes, attempting to get out of the front door), I had the added worry of coeliac disease.
I was very nervous about introducing gluten into Amalie’s diet as we have a strong family history of coeliac disease – both myself and my eldest daughter, Megan, have it. She was two when she was diagnosed. Unlucky for her, children of coeliacs have a one in 10 chance of having it.
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From this… to this 
The truth is out.
Hmmm, OK, so you outed my eating disorder in your blog (The blame game: The dangers of obsessing over food) last week.
The new 21st century eating disorder you talked about, where sufferers start off going gluten free, dairy free and eating ‘clean’ but then get obsessed, certainly sounded like me!
Maybe I do have one. I guess there is a fine line between eating disorder and wanting to be in control of your diet 24/7.
But I feel I must defend myself a little here and tell you my story.
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It is hard to imagine that, back in 2011, I didn’t give a second thought to food making me ill. Back in those carefree days, all I worried about was how many Weight Watchers points were in what I was eating – not if it contained gluten, dairy or fructose.
I had written food diaries a few times but could never see any patterns (because I was reacting to everything!).
When I was diagnosed with coeliac disease, went gluten free and continued to have problems, I worried that I would become totally obsessed with food and drink.
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When I found out my daughter Megan was coeliac, I couldn’t envisage how nursery would cope. She was only two and it was hard enough for me to keep tabs on everything she was eating.
Luckily, I had already compiled lots of gluten-free and cross-contamination information for the Safer Eating website, so I passed that on to them. They were in shock about the levels you had to go to – how careful you had to be with toasters, watching out for hidden ingredients and even playing with Play-Doh, which has wheat in it.
Of course I worried about not being around to monitor things. I worried they would accidentally make her ill. And I worried she would feel isolated and left out at meal and snack times.
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So I hear you can currently buy nut-free peanut butter – why would I want to eat that?
I’m allergic to nuts and have spent my life avoiding them; the smell alone makes me nauseous. Just because the nut has been removed, does not make this product appeal to me!
My mother is currently on a mission to try to convince me that cashew nuts are not actually a nut and I should try one… you know, just to see. WHY?
After much internet research, I can 100% vouch that cashews are indeed a nut (and NOT a legume) and would render me immobile after eating one. Maybe my mother just wants to kill me?!
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For those of you with nut allergies who do fancy trying nut-free peanut butter, you can pick up a 500g jar of Wowbutter crunchy nut-free butter for £4.50 from Tesco. Who knows, we may be wicked and make Jemma force some down for our review in our Safer Eating newsletter…
By Jemma Woolley, guest blogger – multiple allergies
Ever feel the world is out to get you? Here are my top six situations where being gluten-free is a living nightmare…
1. Train stations: Wall-to-wall pastry temptation. Croissants, cookies, burgers, baguettes, cookies. You name it, I can’t eat it. Oh well, there’s always an apricot Eat Natural bar from WH Smiths.
(Exception to this rule is King’s Cross, where salvation comes in the form of a Leon restaurant. I was so thrilled to find I could eat EVERYTHING there I bought EVERYTHING there and chain-ate from London to Yorkshire.
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For the first few years of my life, my darling (and long-suffering) mother struggled daily to ease the pain from a new rash or food allergy that had appeared overnight. After endless trips to the doctors and some horrible scratch patch tests, it was announced that I was allergic to eggs, nuts, kernels, milk, tomatoes, soya, yeast, wheat, animals, pollen, dust and detergent.
After getting over the initial shock of having a child that was softer than cotton wool, my mother started me on a suitable diet and kept me out of harms way for as long as she could. But this didn’t last long, as over 30 years ago, the food labels were not so clear as they are today.
The inevitable bit of egg, milk or yeast was added to my diet and slowly, in time, I was able to tolerate them. But I continued to live with allergies, eczema and asthma. I was the original problem child.
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How clean are my hands? How clean are my hands? It’s a question I ask myself 100 times a day.
Now, I am fortunate enough not to suffer from OCD or a food allergy or intolerance, yet dinner with my family involves me washing my hands more times than any normal man does in a day (or week, for some).
“Why?”, I hear you ask. The answer is simple – cross-contamination. And dinner-time is a playground for this. Picture the scene… I carefully serve my coeliac daughter her dinner, ensuring my gluten-tastic food has not got anywhere near it. I then serve my own dinner. Not that difficult, hey? But now here is comes… my daughter (still being a very small person) needs me to help cut her dinner up. Cue the first hand wash.
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Like the vast majority of women, I wish there were less of me.
My thinnest days are half a lifetime ago, when I danced around in high heels and fluffy bras on a diet of Smirnoff Ice and house music.
I’m neither fat nor thin, just gently wobbling in the middle somewhere.
Still, when I was diagnosed with coeliac disease, I figured I was BOUND to lose weight. I’d basically been handed a lifetime ban from Gregg’s. Plus, I’d be starved of greasy takeaways and ready access to beer and cheesecake.
Only it didn’t happen. I’ve put on a heap of weight since being diagnosed.
And here’s why a gluten-free diet isn’t the direct route to a teenie waist.
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Having a child with a food allergy means you have to be on your toes at all times.
I mean, I had no idea that the creamy white fondant in the middle of a Creme Egg actually contains egg! My daughter, who has a severe egg allergy, found out the hard way. After I gave her a chocolate egg at a toddlers’ Easter egg hunt, she tried it and within minutes I knew something was wrong. She complained of feeling unwell and her mouth was a little red and swollen. I recognised the signs – she was reacting to something.
I had even checked the ingredients on the wrapping but the foil was so delicate and tore too easily and I missed that oh-so important three-letter word: egg.
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You would think that after being diagnosed with coeliac disease then discovering I had lactose intolerance that my poor, delicate stomach would have sorted itself out. Alas, no, it blimmin hadn’t. (Anyone who knows me knows I don’t have luck on my side.) I was still scoring pain on the toilet as 10 out of 10, even when my diet was so restricted.
I desperately wanted to get myself sorted out so I started keeping a food chart. I worked out fructose was also causing me issues. (Fructose is the sugar found in varying degrees in all fruit – mangos, apples and pears are especially high in it. But it’s also in honey and fructose corn syrup.)
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