​The Chick Behind The Tick
The Bite & The Breakdown
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It all went downhill after one glorious, meat-packed weekend: hamburgers, hot dogs, steak, homemade bolognese — the works. By Tuesday, my immune system filed for divorce. Four days in the hospital, covered in hives and confusion, I was treated like patient zero. No spiral. No mystery. Just me in a hospital gown being told, “You’re allergic to mammals now.” That’s right. A tick bit me… and now I react to cow sugar.​
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Smiling through the food trauma.
Before the Tick
Hi, I’m Dominique — 36, married, living in New Jersey with two awesome stepsons and one wildly autistic, fiercely lovable 5-year-old son. Before this whole tick-induced plot twist, I worked in wealth management and considered cheese its own food group (and possibly a love language). Life was delicious. I didn’t choose the plant-based life. I was ambushed by it.
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Learning to laugh through it, even when the snack aisle says no.
Life Now: Confused, Hungry, and Online
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Let’s get this out of the way: I’m not a doctor. Not a nutritionist. Not a chef. Definitely not someone you should take medical advice from. But I am a real person trying to survive Alpha-Gal Syndrome without losing my mind (or sense of humor).
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This blog is my confessional booth and rage journal. A place to laugh through the gelatin-laced hellscape of modern food. I share the real stuff: what to eat when bread might betray you, how to explain your allergy to a waiter who thinks “no pork” means “extra bacon,” and the emotional collapse that comes from realizing steak is off the table — but so is your freaking sandwich bun. Welcome to the Alpha-Gal Confusion Club. Meetings held daily in my kitchen. Bring safe snacks and maybe a therapist.
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These days, I live on sea salt chips and hummus while rage-scrolling through ingredient lists. I’ve googled more food labels than I’ve read actual books. I once cried in a grocery aisle over bread. My favorite indulgences — mac and cheese, and a tub of full-fat ice cream — are now just nostalgic enemies. And don’t even get me started on the time I found “natural flavoring” in a supposedly vegan cookie. Suspicious doesn’t even cover it.​ My life motto? Read before you bite. And maybe bring an EpiPen. I’m not sugarcoating anything. Except, well, I can’t eat most sugars anymore either.
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So — yeah. Come along for the ride. Laugh, cringe, maybe learn something, and please, share tips if you’ve got them. I’m surviving one almond milk latte at a time.
Turns out survival looks a lot like flour and stubbornness.
