Book Review: DON’T KILL THE BIRTHDAY GIRL by Sandra Beasley

2011 at 5am     Posted by Rebecca Joines Schinsky

I’m beyond pleased to welcome my friend Kalen Landow with this guest book review today. Kalen is one of my favorite people on the interweb, always ready with a helpful suggestion, a book recommendation, or a snarky remark when you really need one. She’s also a 25-year veteran of the book industry and currently heads marketing and PR efforts for the trade imprints of the Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group. Follow her ongoing adventures in reading on her Tumblr, and say hi to her on Twitter @kalenski.

don't kill the birthday girl, food allergies, allergy book, sandra beasley

Published July 2011 by Crown

It’s times like this—when I have more to say in a book review than just the standard “I enjoyed this book very much”—that I wish I’d never abandoned my illustrious blog, Gobstruck. Alas. Most books I read require only a simple few sentences or maybe a few paragraphs, but sometimes a book hits so hard, so close to home,  that I feel compelled to say more. Sandra Beasley’s Don’t Kill the Birthday Girl is one of those books.

Don’t Kill the Birthday Girl is a narrative about Beasley’s life-long food allergies. There are some funny stories, some terrifying stories, and a lot of things in between to make you think—whether you suffer from food allergies yourself or not.

About 3½ years ago, after struggling for nearly that long to find the source(s) of my ongoing fatigue, I was diagnosed with a variety of food allergies and sensitivities, as well as some environmental allergies and Epstein-Barr Virus. For the record, the true food allergies are tomatoes, cane sugar, yeast, and cashews (a late addition.) The sensitivities are wheat, corn, quinoa, celery, and carrots. Let me say from the outset, too, that nothing is forbidden for me (except cashews which make my throat tighten and my lips numb…) and I can eat any of these foods on a rotational basis. I’m lucky.

Sandra Beasley isn’t as lucky. She was born with her multiple allergies, and she carries and EPI pen (ephedrine) in case of an anaphylactic reaction. She has spent countless hours in the ER, waiting through a reaction. We have very different challenges, but many similar ones, too. After several years of thinking of myself and my experience as separate from those with life-threatening allergies, I now see us as having more in common than not. The big difference? I won’t die if I eat something  I shouldn’t. Otherwise, Beasley’s stories of making “Sandra-safe” choices, or curling up in a ball and sleeping it off when you accidentally ingest an allergen, are all-too-familiar.

My experience has been a roller coaster ride. Like any new convert, I jumped feet first into the challenge of modifying my diet and it worked. The fatigue let up; I felt like myself again. But here we are, several years down the road, and I’m finding myself in a different place. I’m “cheating” more and also finding myself being somewhat shy about asking for what I need, particularly in restaurants and sometimes even with my family. Sometimes you just want to eat a meal like a normal person, without asking a million different questions and requesting various modifications. And the result of that? I make myself sick. 

One thing I’ve learned in all of this is that chefs in particular are (mostly) happy to go the extra mile for a customer with food challenges. Think about it—they don’t want someone getting sick in their kitchen. I nearly always check out a menu online before going to a restaurant, and I ask questions. Well, I used to ask questions. Now I just make a lot of often-faulty assumptions (I did that at lunch just this week and ended up with panko-crusted chicken while dining with a friend who didn’t know about my food “issues”). Beasley’s book was a gentle reminder that I need to keep asking. It’s for my own health. Yeah, it’s a little embarrassing sometimes, and I’m sure my husband gets sick of dining with the difficult customer, but if it makes the difference between being sick after a meal and not, well, it should be a no-brainer. Right?

The other “food for thought” I have taken from Beasley’s book is that I’m not alone. Sometimes this feels very lonely. My family doesn’t fully understand, in part because I give them confusing signals (both because I can rotate foods and also when I foolishly think “Oh, that doesn’t really bother me!”).  My husband recently said to me, holding up a bag of tortilla chips I’d just had my head inside, “I didn’t think you could have these?” Well, technically I shouldn’t (corn makes me itch and also makes me agitated), but I love it, and lately I’ve been eating more of it—to ill effect. Now I’ve backed off the corn again, which I’m sure looks confusing to anyone who watched me eat a plate of nachos at The Hornet the other week….

In addition to being filled with anecdotes about her experiences, Beasley’s book contains a wealth of good science-based info about why we seem to be experiencing an explosion of food allergies, how they work, and some of the research being done in the area. She also dispels the myth of airborne anaphylaxis. If the book falls short anywhere, it’s in a lack of practical advice and tips for those maneuvering life with allergies, or the parents of kids who are. I hear great things about Allergic Girl: Adventures in Living Well with Food Allergies by Sloane Miller for that type of information, and I hope to read it soon. Anything I can do to empower myself and feel less alone, I’ll do it. Don’t Kill the Birthday Girl was the perfect next first step for me, and I hope others will read it and feel the same.

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