Eating at USM with Severe Food Allergies

Published: March 9, 2026

When I was six years old, I was diagnosed with severe, life-threatening food allergies. I’m twenty now, which means I’ve spent most of my life being deathly allergic to tree nuts. I’ve gone into anaphylaxis three times (oops), so at this point I’d say I have more experience with EpiPens than I ever wanted.

According to Food Allergy Research & Education (FoodAllergy.org), about 33 million Americans have food allergies, and more than half of adults with food allergies have experienced a severe reaction. In other words, this is not a niche issue. It’s common. It’s serious. And for some of us, it’s life or death.

You’d think that, given how prevalent food allergies are, people — especially those working in food service — would be well-trained and meticulous about labeling and cross-contamination. Right? Unfortunately, that hasn’t always been my experience. And before anyone thinks I’m being dramatic, let me be clear: I’m not. I’m not complaining. I just enjoy being alive.

I love USM. I really do. But this opinion piece is going to be quite critical.

One fateful night in 2024, my freshman self decided to grab a quick dinner at Brooks Dining Hall after tennis practice. As Julia Roberts famously said in Pretty Woman: “Big mistake. Huge.”

To make a long story short — which I’m notoriously bad at, given that I’m a writer — I ate something that was not labeled as containing tree nuts. Within minutes, my throat started to feel weird. Then tight. Then wrong. The panic set in almost instantly. Even writing this now makes my chest tighten; anaphylaxis isn’t just physically terrifying, it’s emotionally traumatic.

I walked out of the dining hall and called my mom (bless her heart). She understandably panicked, which led to us mutually and simultaneously freaking out and calming each other down. She told me to use my EpiPen. I, being a giant baby about self-injecting a needle into my thigh, said I didn’t want to. (I do not recommend this strategy.)

Instead, I called my friend Rosaleigh. Through tears and increasingly questionable breathing, I explained what was happening. I was standing near Upton Hastings, by the 60-minute parking spots, when I saw her sprinting toward me from the direction of Robie Andrews — a long black cardigan flying behind her like a cape. My hero.

My next call was to 911, which, admittedly, would have been a strong opening move. The operator told me to lie down in case I passed out. So there I was, flat on the pavement outside Upton Hastings, staring up at the sky and trying to stay conscious.

And yes, this resulted in multiple YikYak posts asking who had jumped out of a window and why there was an ambulance rushing to campus. I’m genuinely thrilled my near-death experience doubled as anonymous entertainment.

This wasn’t the worst allergic reaction I’ve ever had, but it was terrifying enough. And the scariest part? It was preventable. All it would have taken was accurate labeling or clearer communication.

When universities require students to purchase meal plans, they also assume responsibility for providing safe food — or at the very least, food that is transparently labeled. For students with severe allergies, dining halls aren’t just a matter of preference; they’re often the only realistic option.

To build on this, in 2025, I requested access to the allergy-friendly room in Brooks Dining Hall, which was a room I didn’t even know existed, because no one tells you about it. It took the school’s dietitian 13 days to respond to my request. When I finally gained access, I found… frozen bread and frozen desserts. That’s about it. Maybe it’s changed since the last time I checked. Maybe it’s genuinely helpful for someone. And I am glad it exists. But for me, it hasn’t been a meaningful solution.

Another issue? There’s about a 50/50 chance that desserts — or really any food, though I notice it most with desserts — are properly labeled. That’s not a harmless oversight. That’s lazy. That’s careless.

And the dining hall itself? The ice cream station? The salad bar? They’re essentially breeding grounds for cross-contamination. Shared scoops. Shared utensils. Ingredients migrating where they absolutely should not be. For someone with a severe allergy, that setup isn’t just inconvenient: it’s dangerous.

I share my stories and opinions not for sympathy, but for accountability. Sometimes it feels like students are expected to triple-check everything, interrogate staff, and carry literal life-saving medication, while institutions shrug and say they’re trying.

And yes, I fill out the Brooks Dining Hall surveys. Every time. I’ve written down my concerns about allergy safety more than once. Has anything been done? Not that I’ve seen.

I don’t think anyone at USM wants students to get hurt, but intention and impact are two very different things. When you’re lying on the pavement waiting for an ambulance because something wasn’t labeled properly, it’s hard not to question whether your safety was truly prioritized.