When You Wake Up In a Minefield
Don't Panic!
5/9/2026
People always say life can change in the blink of an eye. Which is irrefutable, but also the sort of thing that happens to other people. Not me. My life was supposed to continue marching along its comfortable, well-worn path — no diversions, no side roads, no dramatic plot twists. Just the familiar rhythm of ordinary days stacked neatly one atop another.
I wasn’t reckless. I wasn’t wandering into dark caves or dangling from cliffs or poking fate with a stick. I was simply living my perfectly predictable life, fully expecting tomorrow to look a lot like yesterday, only with slightly more laundry.
And then one day I woke up with Alpha-Gal. You’re probably thinking what I was thinking on that first September morning: “Laura, aren’t you being a bit dramatic? I mean yes, you’re allergic to mammal stuff now, but just swap out a few foods and we should be good to go.”
Of course, I’d mourn the burgers and the bacon and the countless cheese dips, but I would soldier on. At least, that’s what I told myself during the first ten seconds of this strange new life. My first lesson was that muscle memory is real. Even as I tried to convince myself this allergy wasn’t going to crush me, I fixed myself my usual latte and then promptly poured it straight down the drain.
Right.
No dairy.
Whoops.
Then I stood there staring at my empty coffee mug, suddenly wondering about the sweetener, the coffee pod, the dish soap that had cleaned the mug before I used it. I spiraled.
My mother has always said, “Take a shower and brush your teeth and you’ll feel so much better.” Historically, this advice has proven sound. So off I marched to do just that. Teeth first.
But as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror with toothpaste balanced on the bristles and my teeth bared for cleaning, I paused. Does toothpaste have mammal in it? Honestly, how I reached 56 years old without ever wondering what was actually inside a product I shove directly into my mouth several times a day is now completely baffling to me.
So there I stood, frozen in the mirror — toothbrush in hand, mouth hanging open, existential crisis fully underway — pondering the hidden mysteries of toothpaste...until gravity intervened and the toothpaste surrendered itself in one sad blob directly onto my bare foot.
Right, so I won't be brushing my teeth just now, I thought, as I turned on the shower. Then promptly turned off the shower as I eyed the soaps and shampoos that suddenly seemed slightly sinister. Good gravy, how deep was the reach of this allergy? It was starting to feel like a minefield, with every step having to be carefully considered before proceeding. Ten minutes before I'd been worried about creamer and now I was distrustful of my bar soap.
I think it was there and then, uncaffeinated, wrapped in a towel, with the grit of sleep still clinging to my teeth, that I moved from panic to fury. Because I refuse to survive a global pandemic only to be assassinated by a moisturizing shampoo.
Fortunately, we live in an age where the knowledge of the world sits in the palm of our hands, so naturally I turned to the internet. Thank God I did. In the half hour before sunrise, I learned more than any person should ever know about hidden mammal ingredients and the disturbingly creative ways humanity has found to insert cows into perfectly innocent household products. Those stories are for another day.
Armed with a list of “safe” products gleaned from the countless online AGS support groups I had just joined, I took myself off to the market — the same minefield, only with fluorescent lighting and Toto playing softly overhead while I dissected soup labels. I felt empowered. I knew in my soul I could handle this. I was going to make this allergy look like a walk in the park.
And so, blissfully ignorant of the six million ways my life was about to change, I marched confidently off to conquer the bread aisle.