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You guys may or may not know how I'm allergic to raw tomatoes, but not cooked tomatoes. And how I really dislike raw blueberries, but like them in baked goods. It turns out I'm allergic to raw blueberries, too. I've just never known because I never eat them.
Damn it all, I try to break away from being fussy all the time, and I'm rewarded by getting nauseous and flushed and floppy.
Fruit salad is a stupid supper anyway. Especially after giving a full pint of blood. And it was all creamy, too, which I'm sure some of you think sounds delightful and so next time I encounter fruit salad with cream I invite you to take my portion. And ask you to not eat it in front of me.

Although I did feel much better after I realized I was not dying horribly for no reason.
I just took three types out of the first four words of that sentence. And another one from "reason".

How bad was the allergic reaction?

If it was pretty mild you've got a chance of working out the allergy.

I was flushed, nauseous, weak, and tired. I spent about forty minutes lying facedown on the kitchen table wishing I was dead.
I think that just about the worst part of this is that I was still hungry, because let's face it: fruit salad is no dinner for someone who just donated more blood than usual, but I couldn't keep food down.

On the bright side, I now have a really good excuse for avoiding raw blueberries. I usually pick them out of fruit salads because I don't like them. But I wanted to be mature and not cause a scene. Of course, that backfired when I was facedown fifteen minutes later whining "Mother, am I dying?"

Yes, after I pointed this out (I was facedown on the kitchen table at this point, remember) mother very nicely cooked up some smoked sausage, of which I ate my portion, my brother's portion, Willow's portion, and some of mother's.
I would have done it myself, being a grown woman, but... I was convinced I was dying. At least, not standing up, as one must do to cook. I feel much better now.