When I was in elementary school, an author visited our class with a peculiar rock, which she said landed in her friend’s backyard. This was no ordinary stone, but rather, a meteor that could grant wishes, so long as the user also wished good for someone else. She gave everyone a turn with the rock. I don’t remember what I wished for, but I will always remember what a classmate told me after the assembly: “I wished your allergies would go away!”
The hour timer rang. A decade later, I’d finally done it: my classmate’s wish was coming true. After a few months of diligent oral immunotherapy, I successfully ate a whole egg without experiencing a reaction. I was born severely allergic to wheat, dairy, eggs, nuts and oats — this triumph was a lifetime in the making. Just like that, eating eggs would no longer send me into anaphylaxis, or make me feel so itchy I’d want to tear my skin off. I was a step closer to experiencing life at its fullest.
Needless to say, my parents were ecstatic. My friends and family congratulated me, rapid-firing questions like “So what do you want to eat now?” and “How do you feel?” But I didn’t have answers. Despite this massive success, something felt off to me, even with the celebratory buzz filling the house. How do I feel? I feel … nothing. My world had been changed forever, and I felt nothing. No relief, no elation. I smiled outwardly. Egg is a major allergen. This should’ve felt monumental. But instead, I felt empty. It’s almost silly to say, but I felt like I’d lost something. Who was I now?
For as long as I’ve lived, allergies have defined who I am: I was “the allergy kid.” As such, they became more to me than a limitation. During icebreakers, allergies were a fun fact I could fall back on. If there was ever something that I didn’t want to do, like washing dishes or taking out the trash, I had my allergies as an excuse.
Yes, my allergies are life-threatening, and yes, there have been moments where living with them has sucked, when I’d be lying on the floor because my stomach was in so much pain, or burying my hands in my pockets to avoid itching, or drinking ice water to feel relief through wheezing. But beyond that, my allergies made me feel special. They were what made me truly unique. Over time, I grew quite proud of my allergies: I relished the moments when people learned about them, delighting in their curiosity. “So what do you eat?” “What do you mean you’ve never had pizza?” Friends would tell me I was nerfed at birth because I would have been too powerful otherwise.
Throughout my life, allergies have been proof to myself and others that I am strong — that I have endured and accomplished great things. They motivated my interests in public health and biology, paradoxically helping me navigate a world of uncertainty. As my greatest struggle, allergies have shaped my life, and now that I’ve made progress toward a solution I didn’t think was possible, it feels like the end of an era. And yet, outgrowing my egg allergy left space for something new.
What I felt was the end of an era signaled the beginning of another: an era of undeniable freedom. The loss I felt is real, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention what I’ve gained. Now that I’m free of my egg allergy, my mom has been preparing several egg dishes for me to try: scrambled eggs, hard-boiled eggs, fried rice and fried eggs. I’d been curious about all these foods in the past, but could never do anything about that curiosity — that is, until now.
While my family and I were initially cautious about eating eggs, I gradually grew more comfortable with them. At a certain point, it almost felt natural to see eggs on my plate, especially as they became part of my routine.
One morning after a nine-mile cross-country run, I was greeted by an egg-avocado sandwich. Exhausted and ready to devour any food in my path, I demolished that sandwich. Everything about it was perfect — the gluten-free bread, the fried egg. The smooth texture of the avocado perfectly contrasted the crispiness of the egg. There was something eye-opening about how casually I ate: no medication, no timers. Just enjoyment. And in that moment, I found a new sense of pride. Not only was I able to endure my egg allergy, but I was also able to overcome it. After a lifetime of vigilance and caution, I finally made it. Eggs had no control over me any longer — I was free.
As I ate the sandwich, I realized I wasn’t losing as much as I thought: not only can I now have tasty new foods, but I’m also still myself. I’ve come to understand that my allergies don’t define me: who I am is not bound to them. Rather, I am all the things living with allergies influenced me to be: I am resilient, mindful, flexible, disciplined and more. Outgrowing my allergies is not a loss — it’s a transition. It does not erase what I’ve been through; it only signals the next step.
At the end of the day, allergies have made me who I am. They gave me purpose and strength, which I will bring to everything I do in the future, regardless of whether or not I can eat an avocado-egg sandwich.
