"You know," I observed one morning, "you were fine until you ate breakfast. What did you have?"
"Cereal and milk." she replied. Fortunately her favorite cereal is Shredded Wheat, whose only ingredient is wheat. (You can't get any simpler than that.) If her respiratory congestion was aggravated by food, it was either wheat or milk. Since yesterday's breakfast included toast, and she was symptom free all day, milk became our prime suspect. "Stay off milk for a week, then drink a glass." I suggested. Anxious to free herself of her intermittent cough, she consented.
After a week of clear breathing, she sat down to another bowl of cereal and milk. Within ten minutes she began to cough, desperately trying to clear her bronchial tubes. This continued for three hours, followed by a tremendous headache. After two hours of intense pain the headache subsided (or the drugs took effect), and she fell asleep on the couch. This was not a natural sleep -- I could hardly wake her. She looked like she had taken half a dozen sleeping pills. By evening she was able to make dinner, but just barely.
Throughout the past three years Wendy has experienced headaches and fits of fatigue for no apparent reason. In retrospect, I wonder if milk played a role. We never really tracked it, so we don't know.
With a good night's sleep behind her, we thought all her symptoms were gone, but we were mistaken. After a week of peace and harmony in our home, Wendy was constantly yelling at the kids. Everything they did drove her crazy. This seemed strange to me, because they weren't doing anything they hadn't done before. Granted, our children aren't perfect angels, but they weren't doing anything that a normal 7 year-old wouldn't do -- nothing that should cause an adult to lose her temper. Yet Wendy was upset all day, and the next day as well. When she wasn't angry she was depressed, usually over something trivial. For instance, one of the kids left a large toy below the garage door, and when she pushed the "close" button the door collided with the foreign object and the wheels jumped the track. She came in crying and would not be consoled. "I've fixed that door many times." I reminded her, somewhat confused by her over-reaction. "I can put the wheels back on the track. It's really not a problem."
Clearly milk had derailed her emotions, just as the child's toy had derailed the garage door. It took 20 minutes to fix the door, and three days to put Wendy back on track. Once again I thought about the past two years. There were days when she had no patience with the kids -- days filled with sadness and irritability. We never knew why; there seemed to be no pattern. She was usually better the next day, or at least the day after, so we didn't think much about it. Once again I wonder if milk/dairy played a role.
All the positive aspects of an individual's personality, from intelligence to patience to kindness, result from a complex and delicate network of interconnected neurons and synapses. If this network is disturbed in any way, these positive traits are the first to go. In other words, a food reaction isn't going to make you a kinder gentler person. Instead, you will lose your ability to think clearly and control your emotions. Food has a profound effect on my daughter's intelligence and my son's behavior, but that will have to wait for another article.
We ran the same experiment six months later, with the same result. Today she can eat small amounts of cheese here and there, and she has milk on her cereal three times a week. Beyond this, we don't venture.