For twenty years I have been the mother of a child with a life-threatening food allergy. I know what it is to watch my son’s throat close, to see terror in his eyes, to hear him beg not to die. It felt like time slowed down as we waited for epinephrine to work. Those moments are seared into me. They are not, and never will be, a joke.
That is why I was outraged when, on my flight to Europe last week, I came across an article about a new movie, The Roses. The piece described scenes that made light of food allergies, portrayed misinformation, and even showed an epinephrine auto-injector being used incorrectly in the arm instead of the thigh.
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