When Claire was seven, she convinced me to let her try being a vegetarian. She proved she could responsibly find other protein sources and not overindulge in carbs as many young vegetarians do, and she has continued on this path to this day. About that time, I tried Elizabeth on the Feingold diet, which removes artificial petroleum-based food dyes, artificial sweeteners, artificial flavorings and high fructose corn syrup from her diets. Her behavior improved and my insomnia ceased. We continued this diet until she became hospitalized on a regular basis; they fed her Froot Loops there and seemed puzzled when I complained. After all, what does food have to do with mental health?
Then she developed diabetes, type 2, and that involved a whole new set of food rules. We counted carbs and tested her blood sugar. She could eat almost anything, but it had to be in a balanced and responsible way: one pieces of pizza, not six, and that with a large salad. At her last PRTF, they obviously knew nothing about diabetes management, denying her peanut butter and lip gloss because they had sugar, but allowing her unlimited servings of potatoes, rice, pasta and bread. They were also big on artificial everything, and her diet was less healthy than ever before.
While she was gone, Claire figured out she was allergic to soy, not a happy thing for a vegetarian. Okay, so we'll cut out tofu. Except that wasn't okay. Soy is in everything. Most fast food restaurants use soy oil; most chocolate contains it as well. The restaurants we could eat in dwindled to two or three. Soy candles were banned and even magazines printed with soy ink. We read the labels on everything. Claire learned to bake out of self-defense, and we enjoyed the fruits of her efforts: challah, chocolate cupcakes with kahlua icing, brownies with cream cheese.
Today I took Elizabeth to a holistic practitioner, one who comes highly recommended by a friend. He looked at the numbers from her blood tests (done by her pediatrician) and pointed out the signs of inflammation. Her race, along with her diabetes and Hashimoto (thyroid disease), mean the likelihood of her having sensitivities to wheat and dairy are extremely high. We can do the $300 blood test, he explains, or we can just take it out and see what happens. We opt for the latter. He also wants her to stop eating anything deep-fried, due to the trans fat produced by high heat. He feels that the interactions that happen in the body have a huge effect on the brain.
I want to argue and say I don't believe this, but unfortunately it feels too right. I explain it to Elizabeth, putting the best spin I can on it: there are lots of good things to eat that don't involve wheat or dairy; you'll feel so much better. But that is no consolation for life without pizza, sour cream and Lockhart's fried chicken. Claire and I walk her through Whole Foods, exclaiming in rapture about the options we have. OOh, chocolate muffins! Quinoa! Gluten-free oatmeal! Seaweed snacks! Claire points out things that her friend Henry (gluten-free) and Grace (vegan) really like. Slowly she starts to come around. We pack up two small bags with $65 worth of food and head home.
Sometime after she went to bed, she got up and ate a muffin, the seaweed snacks, fruit snacks, and a bag of chips, her snacks for the next three days.
I know there are people who healthily and happily live on a gluten-free, dairy free diet, just as I live with someone who copes with a soy-free vegetarian diet. And I hope she will accept that this is what will make her feel better. But right now I grieve for my children who have to see at least some foods as the enemy, who have to read every label and pass on the cherry pie and bread and butter.
