Initially, my peanut allergy wasn’t a cause of great concern to me. It didn’t manifest until I was an adult and only made me a little sick. Eventually, however, the symptoms progressed to making me breathless and dizzy, which prompted my allergist to prescribe an EpiPen, just in case. I thought I’d never need it. In fact, I didn’t even learn how to use it. As a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, I’d spent years dedicated to the martial arts and I was convinced that my hard-earned skills -- control, concentration, discipline -- would keep me calm and capable in any situation.

Then one day in December, I walked into my son’s classroom and smelled peanuts. The strong aroma arose from 23 desks, each with an over-loaded spoonful of peanut butter on it. The kids were making edible tortilla teepees for Social Studies, using peanut butter as the glue. I held my breath and made a quick decision. I would stay, but I would be careful not to touch the peanut butter.

I spent just over 30 minutes in the classroom before the shock set in. Eight hours later, I was released from the hospital. During the course of the reaction, I completely lost control over my body and, at one point, could not even speak.

Facing Facts
According to the Food Allergy and Anaphylaxis Network, the peanut is one of eight food that cause 90 percent of all food allergies. Of these eight, six are common causes of severe food reactions, including life-threatening anaphylaxis.

About 1.5 million people in the United States are allergic to peanuts, and between 50 and 100 people lose their lives each year from accidental exposure. I learned later that the peanut allergy is a leading cause of anaphylactic reactions. Even a trace amount, including breathing in minute, air-borne particles, can cause anaphylaxis in certain highly sensitive people.

Fear Factor
After the incident with peanut butter, several scenes from that day kept spiraling through my mind: me, swinging the EpiPen into my leg, only to find the EpiPen still had a safety cap on. The shock on my friend’s face. Her fumbling to get the EpiPen ready and my slamming the needle home. Me, choking for breath, tears running down my face, being led through the emergency room with all eyes on me. And, finally, a dose of Benadryl to quell the reaction.

I remember only snatches of the day that followed. When awake, I limped around the house, favoring the giant bruise on my leg from the EpiPen. Slowly I began to take stock of my new reality. This is serious, I thought. I could have died. I tried to keep my fear to myself, but my family sensed it. They were scared too.

This article excerpt is from the Winter 2006 issue. Click here to order.