The Poison on the Plate
For three years, my mother-in-law rolled her eyes every time I asked about ingredients. Whenever I politely declined a dish because I couldn't verify if it contained peanuts, she would sigh loudly and tell the rest of the table that I was being "difficult" and "dramatic." She truly believed that allergies were a made-up trend for attention. But last Sunday, her skepticism turned criminal.
She brought out a tray of homemade cookies for dessert. I asked the usual question: "Are there nuts in these?" She looked me dead in the eye, smiled a sweet grandmotherly smile, and swore on her life they were nut-free. I trusted her. I took one bite. Within seconds, my tongue began to swell. My chest tightened like a vice. I grabbed my throat, gasping for air, as I went into full Anaphylactic Shock.
"As I was losing consciousness, I saw her standing over me. She wasn't calling 911. She was just watching."
My husband rushed me to the ER, saving my life with an EpiPen we keep in the car. At the hospital, while I was hooked up to oxygen, my husband broke down in tears. He told me that while the paramedics were working on me, his mother had confessed. She admitted she ground peanuts into a fine powder and hid them in the dough.
Her reason? She wanted to test if my allergy was fake. She told him, "I didn't think she'd actually react, I just thought she'd admit she was lying." The police have taken my statement. I am not just cutting her out of our lives; I am pressing charges for assault. She didn't just ruin dinner; she tried to commit murder to win an argument.
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