“Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less.” – Marie Curie
Who better to listen to on the topic of fear than the first female scientist to win a Nobel Prize (twice!)? Curie had to overcome quite a few fears in the male-dominated science profession before winning those awards. She was also the daughter of a proud papa named Wladyslaw, a math and physics teacher (her mother died when she was ten), which is a nice segue to another proud papa: me. My name is David. I’m a 43-year-old corporate attorney, private equity and venture capital investor, and the father of three wonderful daughters. My daughter Caroline is not a scientist (yet), but like Curie, she confronts fear and hostile environments every day. She is severely allergic to peanuts and most tree nuts.
As any parent of a child with a food allergy will attest, food outings are an exercise in fear. Even though my wife and I have no allergies, we experience this fear vicariously through Caroline daily. I can see the fear in Caroline’s eyes nearly every time we dine out. For a ten-year-old girl, this fear can be debilitating, frustrating, confusing, and embarrassing all at once. Caroline counts on us to always protect her, making us promise that she won’t get “hurt” when she eats out with our family. Caroline is good at math. Even at ten, she knows that getting it wrong even 0.1% of the time can be deadly. It is our very own David and Goliath story: my fragile young daughter against the fear of uncertainty.
On a recent trip to our local ice cream parlor, we loudly (in keeping with custom) informed the teenage server of Caroline's peanut and tree nut allergies as we placed the orders for our three young daughters. The staff proceeded to assure us every precaution and make her ice cream cone in a separate, allergy-free area. These precautions always make me feel better, but the fear is constant, like white noise in the background.
First to receive her double-scoop cone was our eldest daughter, Ashley. Within seconds of handing her the cone I was startled to attention, "Dad, this tastes like peanut butter!" We didn't order a peanut butter cone for Ashley. Ashley has no food allergies, however, we never allow our other children to eat peanuts or tree nuts around Caroline. Family rule! I took a bite and sure enough, a strong flavor of peanut butter filled my mouth. Disappointed, we immediately informed one of the servers, who shrugged it off as if we had just informed her that she had forgotten to add green and red gummy bears to the cone. "Whoops, I guess we put the wrong thing in the order, sorry." I was stunned, but frankly, over the years I’ve grown accustomed to non-allergic parents, teachers, and servers acting like food allergies just aren’t a big deal. What if that server had accidentally given Caroline that cone? I clutched my daughter’s EpiPen case and shuddered to think what would have happened if she had been the one on the receiving end of that double-scoop chocolate cone. Uncertainty and fear gripped my insides.
What’s a father to do?
First, I make a point of frequenting stores and brands that promise nut-free facilities. The only “nut-free” bakery around is the next town over, but I think it’s worth the trip. I also support nut-free brands to ensure they stick around.
Second, I have spent the last five years of Caroline’s life trying to teach her to look out for herself. It’s a lesson I hope she will take with her when she is a teenager dining out with friends, and ultimately when she leaves our house and has to fend for herself. For my wife (Julie) and me, questions and doubts continually spin through our minds: Will she remember to carry her EpiPen at college? Will she know to diligently check food labels when we’re not around? Will she ever be too embarrassed to speak up about her food allergies when out with friends? To combat these concerns, we always try to make sure we’re helping her build the skills she needs to manage her food allergies solo.
One recent evening, while dining out at a local farm-to-table restaurant, I discovered half of a walnut in my nut-free pasta. While once again surprised and scared, it was a stark reminder of how easily cross-contact occurs. Enter Allergy Amulet, an early-stage technology company trying to create greater food transparency and help individuals with food allergies feel safer about the foods they eat. I believe that technology holds the key to helping her defeat her Goliath. That’s why Julie and I are proud investors in the company.
Perhaps one day in the near future, my little wonder woman will not be brandishing a primitive sling-shot to slay the giant, but rather, an Amulet. Perhaps science will help her overcome her fears, and help her understand more, and fear less.
David would like to thank his wife Julie for her careful edits and contributions to this piece.