Poverty vs. Pain

Back when I started grad school in 2018, I attended every club meeting that matched with my class schedule based on what free food would be provided. Pizza with the Campus Republicans? Sure. Education Club ice cream sundae night? Yes! Popcorn and a movie with the Philosophy Club? Of course. I survived on free food from campus events and food pantries because over 60% of my graduate assistantship pay went towards rent. The other 40% went towards electricity, heating, medication and doctor’s appointments, and necessities. Despite my poverty, I was surviving and thriving due to the amount of free food offered by different campus activities. 

Then came 2020, when I first started experiencing debilitating symptoms of Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) and Colitis. I lost 30 pounds in 6 weeks, felt nauseous almost all the time, and spent hours each day in pain on the toilet. After trying basic over-the-counter medications that failed to help me, I did tests at the hospital, was diagnosed, and received a treatment plan. The treatment plan included prescription medication, physical therapy, and a new restrictive diet called Low FODMAP. My diet completely banned dairy, wheat, legumes, soy, certain high-sugar fruits and vegetables, and most processed foods for at least 8 weeks. Thus began some of the hardest days of my life. My diet consisted of minimally seasoned steak, potatoes and strawberry & spinach protein shakes. After those 8 weeks, I slowly began adding restricted foods back into my diet. Symptoms increased after adding back oligosaccharides (the O in FODMAP). This included wheat, vegetables like onion and garlic, most beans and nuts, and certain fruits. These foods are what I continue to avoid.

To teach every waitress or friend about my dietary needs is exhausting and feels like oversharing. It’s easier for me to say I am gluten-free and sound like a picky eater by just asking for no onions or nuts. However, this diet has been very disabling for me. School events mostly have food I can’t eat: pizza, cookies, crackers, cakes, and fruit plates. My original food savior was no longer of any use to me. 

Because I’m still poor and food shelves give a bit more options, I still go to food shelves to get the majority of my food. My problem is that food shelves also don’t offer a lot of foods that meet my dietary needs. I browse the shelves looking for what I can eat that won’t doom me to days on the toilet. Mac n cheese? Nope. Big bags of dried pinto beans? Nope. Canned peaches? Nope. Slightly expired wheat cereal? Nope. I leave with barely baskets and bags of meat, cheese, and bagged rice; I worry it makes it look like I don’t really need the food shelf when I do. 

I know I should be grateful that food shelves even exist in the area, but I can’t help but feel a bit excluded as someone with chronic illness that results in specific dietary needs. This is especially pertinent as gluten-free alternatives often cost more money, making my few assistantship dollars not go as far as assistants who don’t need alternatives for traditionally donated food. Still, I know if I ignore my dietary needs to care for my monetary needs and ability to feed myself I will suffer the physical consequences on my body. Overall, there’s not a good way to be poor with specific dietary needs. I hope in the future food shelves can work to get more accessible food options for those of us with allergies and dietary restrictions.