My husband and I felt blindsided by my son’s new diagnosis and overwhelmed by the realization that the world as we knew it had just changed. Yet, this was not at all the case for my friend Micheline on the day she was diagnosed with celiac disease. In fact, her experience was completely the opposite. Micheline celebrated receiving her celiac ‘ticket’ with utter gratitude for the gluten-free life that loomed ahead. She didn’t even wait for that train to come to a full stop before hopping on.

Why, you’ll be wondering, would anyone want to join a club whose members have to read the ingredients on every food package, spend countless hours researching safe foods and scour grocery aisles for “free-from” food products. Why would Micheline, a busy mom of two who works full-time, look forward to endless hours preparing that additional “safe” meal just for herself?

Let’s just say that Micheline’s story proves how much life comes down to perspective.

You see, in addition to being a mother, a navy wife, a nurse and a cherished friend, Micheline is a cancer survivor. A routine annual mammogram first detected the cancer she developed in both breasts. I will never forget sitting on her front steps three years ago as she shared the news.

We sat, we held hands, we wept, we clung to each other. Her fears were not for herself but for how her two children – Amanda (then 10) and Matthew (then 5) – would navigate life without their mother.

Next page: Celiac in perspective

In the spring of 2010, I packed Nolan in the car and headed to Place D’Orleans mall Easter event. It started off great – we even ran into friends, and the two boys were soon happily working away at the craft table. Then I looked up and had one of those “Where did everyone go?” moments. Parents and kids were racing off in all directions. Unbeknownst to me, the event included a store-to-store trick or treat-style Easter candy gathering.

It didn’t take long before I parted ways with our friends, as it became apparent this wasn’t going to work. Our son was too young to understand he wouldn’t be able to have any of the candy and chocolates, but he was very aware that he wasn’t getting ‘something’ to hold like everyone else. I tried to be creative; I asked one shop owner to put ticket-gun price stickers on his hand. But that wasn’t enough to quell the tears welling up in his eyes.

Sure, I could have just bought him something, but that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to be a part of the festivities. To compound the issue, now there were endless children eating very unsafe treats, who in turn were touching everyone and everything in the mall. I left the mall that day with my son in tears, causing the mommy guilt tears to flow also.

The next day, I wrote an e-mail to the mall’s management company. I thanked them for hosting wonderful children’s activities at our mall outside of Ottawa. But I also explained that, while not intentional, these events were in fact excluding children with food allergies.

A woman named Kirsty Allaire at Primaris Retail Management received the e-mail. Kirsty was empathetic, supportive and eager to know what changes could be made in order to make mall events safer and more inclusive.  She promised to see she what she could do for the next big mall event: Halloween.

Halloween rolled around, and I didn’t hear from her. Turns out she purposely hadn’t told me ahead of time what accommodations she had made. She wanted to see the look on my face.

Next page: Author is awed by the allergy accommodations

Avery’s 2½-year-old brother Nolan has severe food allergies, and when she came home that afternoon she told my husband and me that “her heart was smoking mad.” She was so upset by her classmates’ attitudes that she had marched right up to her teacher and told him that she wanted to give a speech to the class on allergies.

That evening, using a lot of information from our allergist, Avery and I created a factual, child-appropriate presentation, complete with an EpiPen demonstration. Avery would usually have been frightened to speak in public or to give an oral presentation.

Yet armed with her cue cards and a heart full of passion, she not only gave the presentation to one class but was soon recruiting teachers in the hallway, requesting that they also allow her to come into their classrooms.

To our amusement and pride, Avery has even made changes and additions to her allergy speech. For example, after having been asked why she lists peanuts and tree nuts separately, she added a sentence or two explaining the difference between a peanut (a legume) and a nut. She has also added a question and answer segment at the end of her presentation, and has even been known to quiz her teachers about what they have learned from her presentation.

To date, Avery has done about two dozen presentations, including one to our local anaphylaxis support group. Avery transferred schools last school semester, but continued to give allergy presentations, and has already lined some more up for this school year.

Our daughter has amazed my husband and me with her strength and the depth of her love for her brother. She was 8½ years old with no health issues when Nolan was born. At six months, her brother suffered his first of many allergic reactions, to a peanut butter-laced kiss.

His entire body was covered in a rash and hives, his eyes were bloodshot and then his face swelled until his eyes were shut, and he began to make a low grunting sound. What did I do? I stripped him down and quickly got him into the tub. Never having seen an allergic reaction or heard one described, it didn’t even cross my mind that this was what was happening.

Nolan’s allergies include peanuts, tree nuts, sesame, gelatin, peas and other legumes and shellfish. He has asthma as well as multiple environmental allergies, and has outgrown allergies to eggs and fish.

Avery, who is now 11 years old, has never once whined or complained about the changes or sacrifices our family has to make in order to keep her brother safe. I even overheard her whisper on Santa’s lap a few years ago that she wished most of all for her brother’s allergies to go away.

Avery understands the reality of allergies and asthma, having witnessed her brother’s many reactions. She is the first to quizzically examine a new food product, she re-reads ingredient labels, she will not hesitate to question a grownup if it concerns her brother’s safety, and she is the first to block her brother from a stranger’s touch (and if they do touch, they should be prepared for an articulate girl’s allergy and cross-contamination lecture).

But our daughter is also aware that those who don’t deal with allergies personally may not mean to be insensitive. She knows that our own family was also unaware of allergy issues until our little man came along. What Avery also knows is that we can choose to make a difference. Her immediate goal is to continue to educate others about allergies and how to recognize if someone is having a reaction and administer the auto-injector. She hopes that, by explaining the seriousness of allergies, her peers will choose to help protect those children with allergies and make choices which could keep them safe.

When she grows up, Avery plans to be an allergist. She even has the floor plans of her office all drawn up, complete with hand sanitizer dispensers and automatic doors, so no germs get on the door handles. Above all, Avery’s goal and dream is to care for her baby brother and to cure his allergies.

Michelle Chow and her family are navigating the world of food allergies in Ottawa.