In 2010, I had my last real doughnut.
It was an éclair from the Arborg Bakery when my friends and I were in town for a college project. I told them, “Before we leave, we have to stop at the bakery!”
While my friends cooed in doughnut heaven, I drove back to Red River College, scratching my itchy burning hands as they bubbled like pop rocks.
I couldn’t accept the obvious: I was Celiac.
When one of my aunts was diagnosed in the late 1990s, few people understood Celiac disease. In a nutshell – no gluten. Barley, malt, malt flavour, brewer’s yeast, dextrin. And more! Celiac is a hereditary disease, and it runs on it’s own timeline. It’ll mess with your gluten filled life because of stress or an overload of gluten. After years and years of yummy puffy homemade bread, a body can revolt.
Three months after my Baba Taraschuk died in 2007, I developed a strange rash on my hands. Fast forward two months when my mother-in-law died, and I was patting my oozing hands with a tissue.
I sought help from my doctor. “Eczema,” he told the girl who felt like a leper. But the steroid cream barely didn’t help.
Then another aunt was diagnosed with Celiac disease, and then my mom. My dad became gluten-tolerance. I panicked. I hoarded tissue and inhaled gluten like there was no tomorrow.
In 2009, my then-husband became gluten-intolerant. When we ate gluten-free, I felt better. When we didn’t, my hands felt as though I’d played in poison ivy. But I was adamant: I was not Celiac.
However, I ate as though I had Celiac disease. My eczema healed. When I ate sweet, sweet gluten, my hands flared in fire. Coincidence? Or not.
After six months of gluten-free breads, pasta, and pizza, I returned to my doctor for a Celiac test. According to the Canadian Celiac Association, to ensure accuracy of testing, you should eat the equivalent of four slices of bread for three weeks. Two issues. I’d been eating gluten-free for half-a-year, and a colonoscopy was out of the question because I have epilepsy. I did a Celiac blood test, and it returned with a number.
I was Celiac.
That rash on my hands? It’s called Dermatitis Herpetiformis, and it’s seen in 10 to 25 per cent of people with Celiac disease. On the bright side, I’m spared the harsh intestinal side effects, and I can tell within minutes if something has gluten. Some people with Celiac disease can’t eats oats. I’m hit and miss. Bye, bye, Cheerios and Quaker Oats. Hello Enjoy Life Maple Fig Breakfast Ovals and Nature’s Path Qi’a Gluten Free Oatmeal.
I’m fortunate that DH is my only symptom.
Little bumps on my hands were a small price to pay for that last éclair.