Living without wheat: no cookies for me

Among my many memories of summer camp, one continues to haunt my dreams. One of the… Among my many memories of summer camp, one continues to haunt my dreams. One of the counselors, whose actual name I forget, was teased publicly, loudly and often by the other counselors and campers. Why? For being a “wheatard.” While I knew that this oh-so-politically correct nickname was a variation of the oft-used moniker “lactard,” meaning one who is lactose intolerant, I never really understood what being a wheatard entailed.

This, of course, didn’t stop me from joining in laughter when someone would crack a joke about this particular counselor — who, by the way, seemed to take everything good-naturedly.

Why have I not forgotten this counselor? Because, about a year ago, karma came back and slapped me across the face. I have joined the ranks of the wheatards, and it’s not as funny as it used to be.

Thankfully, I did not find this information out by having my doctor suddenly yell out, “Congratulations; you’re a wheatard!” Instead, pleased with himself for figuring out why I was tired and achy all the time, he told me that I had celiac sprue. Which, of course, made things only slightly less understandable for me than upper-level calculus.

The explanation that followed was long and filled with complicated doctor-terms like “sprue.” What it meant was simpler: no more gluten — a substance found in wheat, barley, malt, rye and usually oats. Translated further, it meant that foods with flour in them — bread for example — and malt-based beverages, such as beer, were making me sick, and would continue to do so as long as I continued to ingest them.

Lest you think I am sharing this information in some desperately pathetic plea for sympathy, I assure you that I am not. Celiac disease is actually fairly common; I would be willing to bet that some of the people reading this article are celiacs themselves, and that more still have wheatards near and dear to them.

Those of you not lucky enough to know a celiac probably have some questions. Allow me to answer them as best I can, so that when you meet someone else with this problem, you can nod knowingly and not make the person feel like some sort of circus sideshow.

Q: So, wait, no cookies?

A: Nope. Although they do make gluten-free versions of most foods, most of them taste pretty bad.

Q: Then what do you eat?

A: For starch, rice, potatoes, tofu and corn are all fine. Vegetables, fruit, dairy and meat are also fine.

Q: Wow, if that happened to me, I’d lose so much weight from not eating carbs!

A: No. You wouldn’t. As an avid carb-lover-turned-celiac, I can promise you this. Asking this is essentially saying, “Why haven’t you gotten skinnier?” And it’s akin to suggesting someone kick you swiftly in the shins while on their way to picking up an eating disorder.

Q: Let’s say, hypothetically of course, that I force-feed you some spaghetti. What happens?

A: That depends on the person. Some people get violently sick and need hospitalization; others will have a stomachache later on, break out into a rash or possibly just feel a little under the weather for a few days. Still others won’t react at all to small quantities of gluten, but their bodies are still being harmed in the long run.

Q: So you’re really just allergic to wheat?

A: Technically, no. It’s an intolerance and not an allergy. You don’t grow out of intolerances, and they affect the body in different ways.

Q: Can I call you “The Wheatard” from now on?

A: No. Never.

Celiac disease isn’t contagious, not even by e-mail. E-mail Emily Kaufman at edk3@pitt.edu.