There I was, all floating on my high of dining out, three times in one week.
"Be careful," my doc said. "It's best to stay away from restaurants for a while until you get this under control."
Poppycock, says I. I've been eating plates full of gluten for 28 years. I can handle the possibility of a breadcrumb or two.
Yeah. Not so much. I think the meal itself was fine. I shouldn't have gone for dessert though. I attempted a pineapple creme brulee (see previous posts about my love of all things creme-y. And brulee-like). I think it was something in the pineapple flavoring, but a couple hours after I ate, I half expected an alien to come bursting through my gut. Felt off the rest of the weekend, too. I guess I had it coming from playing Celiac Roulette. The restaurant itself (review forthcoming) was really careful, it was my own blasted fault for not thinking my choices through a little better.
It was a slightly terrifying example that no matter how careful you are, there is still a strong chance you will get sick.