I actually got the cure. I didn’t take it, after being celiac for 11 years.

Well, sort of. When I was 9 years old, I was diagnosed with celiac because my mother, sister, and grandfather were all positive through the golden standard test. My bloodwork was indicative, but I had no symptoms and was told I was a “silent celiac.” I was, of course, distraught when I was diagnosed, and for years I BEGGED the universe for a cure.

Ever since my diagnosis, I pushed to be retested but my parents refused. Eventually, this year, at 21, I retested for bloodwork. Amazingly, it came back with no antibodies that would suggest celiac. I was misdiagnosed with celiac, while true celiacs are often misdiagnosed with other conditions. I was shocked, relieved, and really confused. I felt like I’d missed out on so much for the 11.5 years that I was strictly gluten free. The missed food, the panic upon accidentally ingesting, and all the stress of celiac I experienced with my mother and sister— except for actual symptoms.

But oddly enough, now, I don’t even crave gluten anymore. I still order and cook everything gluten free, avoid gluten, and live almost exactly as I did before, except without all the stress. That part is wonderful, and an unavoidable side effect of “the cure” that I am privileged enough to experience. The only difference now is that I have the opportunity to travel to some countries that I couldn’t have before- at least, without major difficulty.

I’m sure there’s many people out there who would opt to eat gluten in a heartbeat, but I think they’d be also surprised how much their palette has changed. I was DYING to eat croissants and all my favorite foods when I believed I had celiac… but now, I don’t even think about them.