46) Try seafood again and not die

The past four years I've stayed in Baltimore
there have been countless crab feast,
not to mention the copious amounts of fish fillets served at any occasion.
Have you any idea how much this sucks to a guy with a seafood allergy?
I mean, I can still smell that shit.
It's fucking delicious from what my nose can gather.

It's not as if I've never had seafood, though.
What, you thought I was told by a doctor I had an allergy?
I'm black, my mother ain't have money for no damn allergy test.
Anything she found out I couldn't eat occurred through trial and error.

I don't remember the first time I ate seafood, but my mother says I have a different reaction each time.
I accredit this to her subjecting to me to a different species of fish each time.

The last bit of seafood I remember having is shrimp.
I was about ten or so.
There was butter sauce.
It was delicious, pure ecstasy.
That was until the swelling in my face and throat began.

Every since then
I was the kid keeping a group from going to Red Lobster.
It's not like I didn't want to go to, though.
I mean them cheddar biscuits are to die for, man!

My father has wanted me to try seafood again for a while now.
"It's probably just shellfish," he tells me. "You gotta at least eat a tuna fish sandwich."
Out of all the fish, that's the one I don't want to try.
It looks like cat food for goodness's sake.

But he was right.
I felt I needed to try seafood one more time.
I had out grown my other allergies as a kid:
meat, dairy, tomatoes, chocolate.
Yeah, I could only eat fruits and veggies until I was about four.
So who's to say I wouldn't outgrow this one.

Well Saturday I had my opportunity to try fish once again.
My mother grilled up some tilapia and offered me a piece.
If I was to try fish again anywhere
it would be in the comfort of my own home
literally two blocks away from the hospital I was born in.

She cut me a bite-sized piece
and lifted it to my face with a fork.
I was wary of the dead sea critter, nervous even.
I sniffed it like a suspicious dog.
Then I peaked it, attempting to see if it would be the kiss of death.
After 5 seconds, nothing happened.
I licked it for extra measure before finally chomping down on it.

My initial impression after swallowing it?
Tilapia: the pork of the sea.
It wasn't bad at all...
until my tongue started to itch.
Then my throat joined the party.
My upper lip was fashionably late,
showing off its new boils.

My mother gave me two Benadryl and watched me like a hawk for the next hour,
making sure I downed bottles of water as if I were a fish myself.
Sure enough, my lip and throat slowly got better.
A trip to the hospital had been averted,
but I would still have to decline the invitation to my next fish fry.
...least I didn't die. That's always good.

Part of me still wants to try shellfish though.
Mainly because I want to fully participate in a crab feast, really.
Swinging a mallot at a dead animal: who wouldn't enjoy that?
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