The seven stages of guilt are a strange thing, and often compressed into five.  According to the original model based on the seven, the fourth stage is a “bargaining” stage;  an attempt by the grieving person to make a deal with a higher power –  a plea made out of desperation.

I was curious how this reflected in the death of gluten in our household.  I could see plainly how outsiders who knew little of the disease would blindly ask if A could handle just a “little”  gluten.   “Can’t you order the burger and just remove the bun at the table?” “Can’t you just pick the croutons off the salad?”  “Why do you need to use all new utensils, wash your hands and your work surface and place a foil barrier down on the grill?”  I parroted back the factoid that even 1/60th of a piece of bread was enough to make him immediately ill.  I felt a choking desperation in those early days while re-learning how to cook for a busy family, and more importantly, how to navigate outside events, (birthday parties, dinner parties, lunches out) and unforeseen circumstances.

If there was a plea-deal to be had, I would have gladly shouldered this burden on behalf of my child.  I think if I could have negotiated it differently, this Mother would have shown her fierce ability to fight.  However it was well beyond me or anyone, and once again, while not terminal, thankfully manageable.

The other side of this coin was the desperation:  I spent too many minutes panicking inside about upcoming events, overthinking grocery items and reading, re-reading and re-re-reading labels to convince myself that it was okay, and that I wasn’t going to add to his already damaged gut.  I exhausted myself in the hamster wheel of panic.  I developed a red haze of headache in my vision 24-7.  My nerves, everyone’s nerves were stretched tight.

A real fun time, right?

Thankfully, the red haze dissipated, the discomfort, the panic, and the sheer desperation dissipated.  I didn’t have to panic every time we wanted to eat outside the house.  We found some safe harbours in a few excellent restaurants around town where the staff truly understood Celiac disease and all its’ implications.   I got more comfortable developing a standard list of questions to ask at restaurants.

I didn’t have to bargain my way out of this one after all.