Joy's daughter couldn't wait to meet her new fella for dinner. But something tragic happened in that restaurant...
Looking in the rear-view mirror, I smiled at my daughter – but then frowned.
What’s that? I thought.
We were on our way home from nursery when I noticed Alison, four, had red bumps on her forehead.
‘What did you eat today?’ I asked, thinking it might be an allergic reaction.
I knew I hadn’t given her anything different in her lunchbox.
‘David gave me a sandwich,’ she replied.
I made a quick call to the nursery and found out her little playmate had given her a sandwich with chocolate spread in.
A check of the ingredients revealed it contained peanuts.
We had tests carried out and, sure enough, they found Alison was allergic to peanuts.
From that point on, she always wore a medical bracelet which gave details of her allergy.
Most of the time she was with me and my hubby Grover and her younger brother Daniel, so we were able to carefully check the ingredients of any meals.
‘But what happens when she’s not with us?’ I said to Grover, worried. ‘We need to teach her how to ask the right questions.’
As she grew older, she took charge.
‘I’m allergic to peanuts,’ she told a waiter, as I watched. ‘What’s safe for me to eat on the menu?’
And she made sure she never accepted food from anybody else.
My girl was taking the lead in making sure she stayed safe.
‘I’m so proud of you,’ I told her.
Alison didn’t let her allergy stop her from doing anything or going anywhere – and she always took her EpiPens with her.
She was devoted to horses and loved riding Western-style, her hair flowing out as the horse’s hooves hurtled over the ground.
But there were a couple of episodes where she accidentally came into contact with peanuts.
She started to itch and her lips and throat swelled when she borrowed a lip gloss from a friend at school.
But my sensible girl had used her EpiPen and went straight to hospital.
Later, she found out the girl had eaten a peanut butter sandwich and traces had gone on to the lip gloss.
When she left home to study at university, I was anxious about her being away from home.
‘It’s OK,’ she said, reassuringly. ‘I can look after myself. There’s no need to worry.’
But one day she phoned to tell me she’d needed to go to hospital after suffering a reaction to her roommate’s dog licking her.
It turned out the dog had been playing with a toy which had peanuts inside it.
While at university, Alison took part in a project to help disabled children ride horses.
‘It’s wonderful to see how much they get out of it,’ she told me.
It was no surprise when she told me she wanted a career working with horses.
Ten days before she was due to graduate, she texted me, I’m going out on a date!
More texts followed.
'What did you eat today?'
‘She’s obviously keen,’ I laughed to Grover.
She told me he was a teacher and, as usual, Alison had chosen the restaurant carefully.
She’d eaten there several times before.
More and more texts arrived from her as the date got nearer.
I’m going to have my hair done, she wrote.
My heart swelled as I got caught up in her excitement.
On the night, I glanced at the clock and worked out that she’d be eating.
I hoped the evening was going well.
But suddenly my phone rang.
It was Alison’s number.
‘Mum,’ she said, but then she hung up.
Odd, I thought. But she’ll call back later.
And when the phone rang half an hour later, I expected it to be her.
But it wasn’t.
It was someone from a hospital.
I listened as they told me Alison had been admitted because she’d had a severe anaphylactic shock.
My heart began to thump in fear.
Grover and I raced there.
Doctors met us, their faces sombre.
Fearfully, I grasped Grover’s hand while they explained that Alison was unconscious and would be transferred to another hospital.
This was the worst reaction she’d ever had to peanuts.
I called Daniel, and he rushed to be with us.
We stayed by her bedside.
But tests over the following two days confirmed swelling on the brain had occurred and caused permanent damage.
‘She’s never going to wake up,’ I said in utter despair.
I’d been looking forward to her graduation the following week.
But now it was unbelievable we were preparing to say goodbye to our gorgeous girl.
Through my tears, I said, ‘She has so many friends and family. They’ll want to say goodbye.’
Grover nodded in agreement.
In the days that followed, I counted more than 100 people who came to see Alison.
It was heartbreaking, but also comforting to know she’d touched so many people.
She was just 23 when she took her final breath.
‘She’d want to give life to others,’ I said determinedly to Grover.
So we gave permission for Alison’s heart ventricles, kidneys and liver to be donated.
After the funeral, still in the grip of raw grief, my mind swirled with questions.
What had happened that dreadful night?
I began to piece together in more detail the sequence of events.
We found out she’d ordered her usual fish dish of mahi-mahi at the restaurant.
'She should still be here'
Alison knew the meal was safe and had eaten it several times there.
So how had she come into contact with peanuts?
All her life, she’d been so careful.
Was it an accidental brush of a hand with someone who’d eaten a peanut butter sandwich?
Where? Where had it come from?
My mind was plagued with all the different scenarios.
But eventually, we found out what had caused our darling daughter’s death.
The chef at the restaurant had changed the recipe.
He had added peanut sauce to the dish.
Not only had he changed the recipe, but he hadn’t told anybody what he’d done.
The waiters had no clue that the meal now contained deadly peanuts.
And neither, of course, did Alison.
‘This should never have happened,’ I said, shaking my head in despair. ‘She should still be here with us.’
Alison had acted as quickly as she could after she’d taken a few bites and realised that she’d been in contact with peanuts.
She had used her EpiPen immediately.
She’d even walked to the ambulance, talking to the paramedics.
But on the way to hospital, she’d had a cardiac arrest and had to be resuscitated.
She’d been unconscious when she reached hospital and never came round again.
So many years she’d spent asking questions at restaurants and scrutinising food labels in supermarkets.
So many years she’d
protected herself.
But we’d lost her to a food allergy.
I’ve now started a campaign to get better guidelines
in place for restaurants to communicate with customers about allergens.
A menu with a full list of ingredients, similar to labels on food in shops, could help to prevent a reaction like the one Alison suffered.
I miss my darling girl every day, but I know she’d be proud of me for pushing for better awareness in restaurants.
It’s too late for my girl, but I know we’re going to save lives in her honour.
Joy Pickering, 53