As some of you know, I have a peanut allergy that’s fairly severe.  Most the time it’s not a big deal–I carry my Epipen in my purse, which also has a stash of Benadryl, and usually remember my medic alert ID, but it’s not something I lose sleep over.

Sunday, while helping clean up the kiddie cups from the nursury set, I reached into the sink to scrub what I thought was putty-like paint off a sponge.

Now, I’ve learned to watch out for peanut butter in chili, saltwater taffy (I swear!), and from kids who are too fond of their PB&J, and so prefer to wear it on their face.  But on a paint sponge?

Needless to say, I’m fine.  I react worst not from skin contact, but to injested or inhaled particles, so a quick scrub with some soap and a strong dose of Benadryl later I was ready to laugh at the whole thing.

But in that moment when I smelled what is, for me, a deadly scent…then realized that my Epipen and purse were a long long hallway away, and I was alone…

Well, let’s just say, the next time I have a character in a similar situation, I think the sudden fear and, oh crap! how could I be so stupid? feeling will come across authentically.

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