This is Abraham. He is a four and ½-year old wild-and-wooly little boy. He likes monsters, chocolate and climbing on our heads! Abraham’s days are filled with all the fun things any little boy loves, and his constant medical issues are something normal for him. There are days when I feel like I am chasing him around all day—bugging him with nebulizer treatments, inhalers, nasal spray, “itchy” cream, oral medicines, allergy shots, endless appointments, etc. 

He is a good sport for all of his medicines and appointments and the many restrictions on his daily routine. Abraham’s daily health is generally good—unless he catches even the smallest cold, hugs a classmate with a dog at home or has any contact with peanuts. These are his three biggest triggers. The smallest cold leads to bronchitis or pneumonia and weeks of battle-mode medical treatment at the house; the hug leads to hours of insane itching and wheezing only placated by putting him to sleep with a large dose of Hydroxizine. We can’t even think about going to anyone’s house with a dog—not even his grandparents.

The first two issues, inconvenient and sometimes painful as they are, are not the most frightening. The peanut menace is the one that causes me to lose sleep. We knew of Abraham’s peanut allergy from a very young age. His first contact was as an 8-month old baby. His grandfather was eating those orange crackers filled with peanut butter while holding Abraham. The result was large blistery bumps all over his little body in any spot where my dad’s fingers had touched the crackers and then touched him. With the severe allergy/asthma background my husband and I share, we understood what this meant and fully avoided all nut products (in addition to several other trigger foods and common allergic triggers). He had the allergy testing available for his young age, and we confirmed this and other triggers.

Skip forward a few years—and many, many symptoms, sicknesses, doctors’ appointments and prescription refills later. Although he had many uncomfortably symptoms with which to deal, we had an incident that demonstrated just how severe his peanut allergy was. At three years old, a baby sitter accidentally let Abraham have a bite of a peanut butter/chocolate chip granola bar. I happened to come home about 5 minutes later. The sitter did not tell me about the peanut butter, but Abraham immediately began to cry in pain and complain of stomach pain and a burning mouth. Then he began vomiting—intense vomiting that emptied every drop of his little stomach. He kept vomiting, and his face turned red and blotchy. I immediately gave him an antihistamine, and he was asleep within minutes of the whole incident. I mistakenly blamed his fatigue on the trauma of such violent vomiting. He kept sleeping—deep sleep interrupted only by more vomiting, crying and diarrhea. His sleep (and vomiting) lasted for hours and hours. Incorrectly, I assumed this fatigue was now a result of the antihistamine in his system.

About a year later, on Easter morning, Abraham had two bites of a giant chocolate bunny’s ears (the bunny was made in China and although it proclaimed to be nut-free it must have had contact with peanuts). He was on the sofa and my daughter and I were getting ready for Church. He began to cry and fuss, which is unlike him. He did not get sick right away, but was having a hard time staying awake. This didn’t make sense since he had only been up for an hour and a half that morning. I didn’t think much of it and blamed his fatigue on Easter morning anticipation. We headed out the door to Church with me carrying my then sleeping son. As we arrived at Church just 10 minutes later, Abraham was still very much out and up on my shoulder. He woke up—crying then screaming, his face contorted in obvious pain. I knew what was coming and realized he was having an allergic reaction. We barely reached the bathroom as he vomited. Again, his sickness was overwhelming. He was crying. He told me his mouth burned, and it was apparent that his whole body was reeling. The only thing keeping him somewhat conscious was his violent vomiting, severe and immediate diarrhea and all-over pain. When the sickness ended, he fell back asleep and remained that way for 4-1/2 hours. No antihistamine had been administered and yet he slept in this deep, deep state until evening. He would wake somewhat every ½ hour or so, whimpering, crying, and retching—only to return to his sedated state.

Although I knew of his severe allergy, which had been confirmed by more involved allergy testing at age 3, I did not understand how severe his reactions were. I was monitoring his breathing, which seemed fairly regular. This was my biggest concern, because I had thought his issue in an anaphylactic reaction would be asthmatic with obvious swelling that could prohibit breathing. It was not until after the fact that I realized he was not sleeping at all—nor had he been sleeping the time when his babysitter gave him a bite of tainted granola bar. What I mistakenly perceived as sleep was actually his plummeting blood pressure, and it was only by the Grace of God that Abraham did not slip into a coma that day.

We headed back to his allergist the next day and shared what had happened. Abraham was re-tested and we found that in just a year, his already high peanut allergy had doubled. We were instructed on EpiPen® usage and told that its administration might be needed to keep him alive in the event his blood pressure dropped again like it had on Easter. When asked when I should administer the EpiPen®, I heard the painful truth: “When you think he is going to die.” I ordered him a Medic Alert® bracelet, and we updated his pre-school and sitters on the growing severity of Abraham’s condition.

We know that inevitably this will come up again. We all know how to use the EpiPen®, and our 8-year old daughter is well-versed on what she needs to do in an emergency. My biggest concern is that we don’t know just how bad it will be the next time. What if it is much, much worse? What if his blood pressure drops and I cannot revive him? What if he is with someone who doesn’t recognize his symptoms—mistaking his anaphylaxis for a tummy ache and fatigue? What if I hesitate to administer his EpiPen®, and it is too late?

These are the worries I have, and this is what keeps me awake with anxiety. In the meantime, I’m trying to educate myself more to better understand what others face. I know there are many others with a greater amount of dangerous food triggers, and I see that I can learn from them. I do not want to be a hyper-vigilant, nervous mother for my son; and yet I do need to ensure his safety.

Brandy 
Tallahassee, Florida