Ba, I am danger!

You'd think 3 years with this allergy and I'd have this thing down to a science. And I have, I have: I can enumerate the foods I'm supposed to be allergic to: cheese, chocolates, alcohol-- especially beer, strawberries, tropical fruits including mangoes, seafood--the list does go on. And I've done enough experimentation to know which of these I am specifically allergic to, and in what amounts:

1. Cheese - Anything over the tiniest slice gives me a vicious vertigo attack. Attacks occur one to three days after intake, and lasts three days, too. No pizza, no cheeseburgers, no fondue, gratins, grilled cheese sandwiches, Cheezwhiz, cream cheese on bagels... you get the picture.
   
2. Chocolate - I can have a little bit, like one Snickers bar divvied up over three days, or so. (Sad, but true.) So unless I pig out with a whole can of Lindt mini assorteds, I'm fine. Chocolate ice cream seems okay, though.
3. Alcohol - Beer, I can stand one to three bottles in one night, although I rather wouldn't. (Seems I've lost my taste for it.) This one gives me an attack definitely, so I prefer another malt product. Whiskey is fine, fine, fine. Or any other hard liquor for that matter. I try to avoid wines and brandy because I'm supposed to be allergic to grapes, too. But I do like an occasional red now and again. Suddenly, I miss Japan where beer and whiskey prices are almost the same.
4. Fruits - Strawberry is a culprit, but I don't get a lot of chances to enjoy fresh ones anyway. Tropical fruits don't seem to have any adverse effects.
5. Seafood - Having lived 2/3 of my life near the sea, and loving Japanese food as I do, I am so grateful I turned out not to be allergic to seafood.

How do I know all this? I told you: I have this vertigo thing down to a science. And three years of experimentation, well, let's just say I could publish a paper on it. Sure, I miss out on a lot of foods-- just Italian mostly. Oh and mexican, too. And pizza. And most desserts. But, as you've probably heard me say more than once (all together now): as long as I'm not allergic to hard liquor and cigarettes... You could say three years has helped me deal with it, too.

So somebody please, tell me why, why, why I jumped at my mom's idea of lunch at Yellow Cab yesterday, clapping my hands in excitement like an idiot (instead of my usual sarcastic remark). Worse, when they remembered and tried to suggest someplace else, I bulldozed over the protests (They were half-hearted, true, but well-meant.) and even walked--no, marched--right into the pizza parlor first, myself. Ate two and a half slices of their meatlovers pizza and guzzled raspberry ice tea, giddy like I was doing something never attempted before, or something petty, but illegal.

And you know what else? I had the gall to be surprised when I woke up a little woozy, my head like a water-filled balloon--early this morning. When I weaved my way out of my room--holding my head in case it fell off and crashed like an aquarium around my feet-- to get my anti-vertigo drugs, my mom simply glanced at me and hmmmmed. I whimpered like an orphaned puppy.

Good thing, I remembered to up my dose of betahistines. But that's all I can really be proud of.

I believe in the scientific method: question, observe, experiment, conclude. Three years I've watched the food I take in. Three years I've experimented with what I can or cannot eat. Three years I've suffered: There was a year in Japan I had three-day attacks monthly. Oh, and my last attack was Christmas. Yep. December 24, 25, and 26, 2005 I was either asleep or trying to sleep. I've made conclusions, such as on the specifics of kinds and amounts of foods I should avoid. I've concluded, too, that sleep is my only escape (Oh, there's the Van Gogh experiment I have on reserve for unbearable situations.), and that most of the time, I can lessen the effects, enough to keep me functional, anyway, if I "overdose" on my Serc.

I have three years' worth of information. Tried and tested, conclusive information at that, where the scientist happens to be the test subject, too. So again I ask, why, why, why? I'm afraid there might not be any answer but brain damage. All that whiskey I enjoyed to make up for pizza must have finally caught up with me.

And you know what hurts the most? While I was eating that pizza and feeling giddy? I think I was giddy more for breaking my rules than any longing for pizza--it didn't taste as great as it does in my head when I imagined it. So now I'm suffering and I can't even say it was worth it. I told you: Brain damage. How pathetic.

Curiosity has not only killed the cat, it has won some lucky sons-of-bitches the Nobel prize. Seems like I don't belong to that category. That thin line between genius and crackpot isn't so thin after all.