Pilgrimage in Place
accepting the invitation
[art: Love and the Pilgrim by Burne-Jones]
I can’t go anywhere. I can’t get on a plane, a train, or a bus. I can’t go into a city or eat at a restaurant. I can’t even go into a grocery store or head over to the farmer’s market. Any crowded situation is fraught with peril—from the fumes of cooking meat, to the presence of lanolin-infused wool, to the by-products in perfumes, lotions, and cleaning products. Last year, after a long period of escalating gut problems and episodes of mysterious illness and a series of hospital visits, I was finally diagnosed with Alpha-Gal syndrome—a tick-borne allergy to all mammalian products including not only red meat and dairy but a host of other hidden sources from crackers to skin cream to even my daily medications. But the hardest part isn’t what I can’t eat, it’s where I can’t go. Which is mostly everywhere.
Before I got diagnosed my husband and I had been invited to participate in a pilgrimage to Assisi, a journey which would now no longer be possible. Interestingly, however, I received my Alpha-Gal test results on the Feast Day of St. Francis. On the day when animals are traditionally blessed, I found out I was deathly allergic to all of the foods and products made from those animals. It turned out I was going on a pilgrimage but not one that would include air fare and a tour bus.
