Anaphylaxis. Free of charge!

I’ve written about my fish allergies before. I’ve had to live with the awful reactions all of my adult life. I always inform my co-workers and kindly ask them to please be careful. I understand that mistakes can happen and it’s easy to forget such a miniscule thing if it doesn’t affect you personally. I get it. It’s my problem and no one else’s. That’s one of the reasons why I humbly request that I am allowed a personal spatula, knife, and towel. Don’t touch any of those during my shift and everything should be peachy. Another reason is because most people I’ve worked with are complete slobs, though the allergy still has significant merit.

I’ll just give you a quick example of my reaction severity. Let’s say another cook grabs a piece of salmon and places it on the grill, broiler, in a pan; whatever. He then goes and rinses his hands under water. When he comes back, he grabs my spatula to flip something else. I then grab that spatula, and even though he rinsed his hands off, within sixty seconds my hands begin to itch. Within another sixty they begin to turn red with blotches and hives make their evil presence known. Now here’s the thing. If I happened to touch another part of my body before the initial sixty seconds of detection, now that area is also affected. So before I know it, I could potentially have spread it to other parts of my body. This sucks very much so because the allergic reaction keeps progressing until the hives actually begin to burn and hurt. So now I’m itchy, red, bumpy, burning, and all around uncomfortable. This was from one little error. So, please, please, do not touch my working utensils. Feel free to make use of the forty other ones around the kitchen.

Tuesday, my co-workers got to see firsthand what happens when I come in contact with even the littlest amount of that type of product. I was just cooking away as normal when all of a sudden I noticed my eye was irritated. When this happens, an internal alarm goes off inside my brain. I’ve probably been exposed to fish somehow and happened to touch my face. Okay, think, how did this happen? I just washed my hands and wiped my face with the wet paper towel from the dispenser. What happened before that? It seems my co-worker had pulled out a bunch of tilapia (gross) from the freezer and placed them in the walk-in cooler to thaw. He then washed his hands. I must have got it from the residue on the handle, that’s all I can think of, and yes, that is enough to begin the whole terrible ordeal. Even though I washed with soap, I still had to touch the faucet knob after the fact. Had I turned off the water with the paper towel, like we’re supposed to, I still would have wiped my face with it. Boom, solved.

Okay, no big deal. I will just take this opportunity to delicately remind everyone of my situation. Please be careful when touching fish. Thank you. I just leave it at that. The thing that really pisses me off is that everyone should already know about safe restaurant practices when it comes to preparing food. We have designated tongs to handle seafood, chicken, and beef. The other thing is that you are required to put on a pair of disposable gloves before handling these specific types of food. Customers come with all types of allergies, not just me, and cross-contamination is a serious issue. It’s just good health practice to follow this basic procedure.

So now I have to finish my shift with an itchy and extremely swollen eye. And, yes, it’s very noticeable. I have no reason for concern other than it takes three to four hours after I’ve flushed it out to subside. Now I look like I’ve been punched in the face and it’s not flattering on me. The cook apologizes about fifty times as he can now understand, visually, that I’m not full of shit. I’m not mad at him because like I stated before, I don’t expect everyone to cater to me and it’s easy to forget if you’re not affected. Alrighty, we got that out of the way, now they all know! Shouldn’t be a problem again.

To go into further precautions, the KM announces that any of our fish items that need to be prepared have to go to the opposite side of the kitchen from where I’m working. This shouldn’t be an inconvenience because we normally only cook like maybe two or three fish dishes during my scheduled hours. Plus, I can always take a few tickets from the other side to even it out should they need to do this. The positive thing is now everyone is aware, will possibly be more careful, and will leave my shit alone, plus they got to learn something new that day and with an excellent observed demonstration. Ya, we all win!

Fast forward to the VERY NEXT FUCKING DAY. I’m working with the same cook that innocently caused my reaction. We are getting crushed and he begins to start falling behind on his side. I jump over to help him out on his grills when all of a sudden he removes the lid from a covered item and this huge plum of vapor hits me squarely in the face. To my utter dismay, it was tilapia. I snap back once I realize what just happened, but it’s too late, my lungs are now full of that wonderful mist. I yelled out in disbelief, “Ben!” and look at him with my face in awe. He replies, “Oh, fuck, I forgot!” I can surely see how as it was all of a whopping twenty-four hours ago since the last episode. Yes, I should have looked, but dude, you could have maybe given me a little warning. Oh my fucking God! This is bad.

Within a minute I can feel my chest begin to tighten. “Oh no, oh shit, oh dear God” I think to myself. The process is beginning. Another minute passes and I am starting to have problems breathing. A few more minutes later and I can only take shallow breaths. I freak the fuck out and run into the prep area. The bakery manager sees me choking and comes to see what’s happening. I am having trouble talking but manage to briefly explain what’s going on. I can literally only get out a couple of words before I need to gasp in a fresh breath. She gets the GM and he starts asking me questions on what to do or how he can help. He tells me to go outside to get some fresh air. WTF! Are you kidding me!?

My heart rate is beginning to skyrocket as I can feel my fucking ears begin to pulse and my head is getting tingly. I become increasingly dizzy as the seconds tick by. I am on the verge of passing out either because my blood pressure just bottomed out or because my blood oxygen level is depleting, not to mention I am shaking violently from sheer terror and panic. The voice in my head is screaming, "OMG! Is this really happening!? Am I going into shock!?" I plop right down there on the ground in the back. I try to calm myself down and try to take slow and as deep of breaths I can. If I pass out, these guys will never figure out what to do and I’ll likely die, AT WORK, and in a place that I HATE! I’m not going out like this. No fucking way.

Employees begin to swarm around me like bees all wondering what the commotion is. The GM instructs someone to call 911. I grab his arm and tell him, “get…me…to…the…hospital.” He scoops me up and out the door we go. Luckily the restaurant is located right off the interstate and the emergency room is maybe a five minute drive away. He takes off like a bat out of hell as I lay slumped over in his passenger seat. Within a minute I noticeably can feel myself coming out of my pass out phase. The fresh air must be helping or maybe I’m calmer as I now know I will be getting aid shortly. I still can’t breathe very well and am coughing violently but my head is beginning to clear and I am not so dizzy anymore.

We pull up at the ER doors and he fucking goes running in without me like a track superstar. A few moments later, two ladies come racing out as I’m about half way from the car to the doors. Jesus, he must have told them I was dead. They help me inside and into a room and start drilling me with questions. I am able to tell them what is going on and one begins to prepare a shot of some sort. I see the syringe and am pretty sure of what’s inside, because I have one at home for emergencies. It’s called an epipen and I go and get a new one every year. They begin to get this breathing machine ready when the doc enters. He tells them not to worry about that and after maybe ten seconds, he injects me. The ER must not see much action because I was the guest of honor for sure. There were so many people around me if even just to observe.

I begin to come around in no time at all. Within five minutes I am 100% better than I was. The doc asks me some questions pertaining to what happened and gives me some information. I tell him that I do have an injector at home though only take it with me on trips or leisurely locations like camping and such. He explains to me, and I do already know, that the shot is designed to be able to be carried on my person at ALL times.

I wholeheartedly fucking agree. I’ve never had a reaction this severe and will gladly keep the injector within a minute’s grasp, whether in my vehicle or duct taped to my damn waist. He demonstrates where and how to give myself the injection and in any remotely close situation, administer the shot and seek immediate medical attention. Don’t try to drive myself to the ER and to call 911, no matter how much better I feel. He gives me the go ahead to leave fairly quickly after my improvements.

We roll back to the restaurant and I explain that I’m just going home. I’m too embarrassed to go back inside and the GM concurs. This guy looks pale as hell, even more than me. I think he nearly had a heart attack over the whole situation. I make it home with no problems and just chill out the rest of the night. Shortly before I’m getting ready for bed, I get a call from the restaurant. I answer it and it’s the GM. He wants to know if I’m still okay. I tell him I feel fine and not to worry. I’ll be able to work tomorrow.

I show up yesterday day for work and everyone wants to hear the drama filled story and I joke around and try to play light of it. One of the servers said it’s not funny because when she saw me on the floor, my skin was turning bluish gray. She really thought I was going to die. I agreed and thanked her for her concern, but I’m okay. I just don’t really like all the attention. I do appreciate the sentiments, believe me I do, but I’d rather forget the whole thing even happened. And to clarify, I do not blame the cook who pulled the lid up and exposed the vapor. It wasn't his fault as I should have been more aware when going over to his section. It was an accident and I will take responsibility, but come on.

The assistant GM was personally going around telling people that there is a corporate representative coming next week for mandatory education for all store employees and he needs their signatures to verify that they were instructed of such. We will all be required to do the training, of course, on food safety, in shifts and pass a test. Fuck, now everyone is going to be grumpy with me because I almost died. Man, I truly am selfish. In all honesty, I don’t believe I would have expired, though am very satisfied with how that particular event concluded. I don’t think I’ve ever been more terrified in my lifetime.

Well, I’m going to go ahead and end this here and hope to never write of a similar experience again. Until we meet again, in another day in the life of a line cook.