Meet Riley! (and the trouble with being safe)

This is a news video about another girl with an allergen alert dog.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rqrdtqJPBLE
In the video Riley's mother tells us that her daughter has almost died six times. Sounds impressive, doesn't it? It's the kind of statement that really drives home just how bad her allergy really is.
To qualify for an allergen alert dog I had to have a recent allergy test proving that my allergy was as bad as I said it was. So my parents drove me to a nearby city to see the only allergist in the state (we really do live in the middle of nowhere) and see if my allergy was still just as severe.
The first thing the allergist asked me was how many times I'd been to the emergency room in the last year. Rather proud of myself, I told him none. To which he smiled and reassured me that I didn't need a service dog, I clearly wasn't that allergic.
Hold on, hold it, hold the phone! I'd stayed out of the emergency room by being responsible about my allergy! I'd carried chewable Benadryl tablets everywhere and taken one whenever I was having a reaction, before it got bad. I had turned down numerous invitations to eat out. I'd packed my lunch every day for school, and I'd cleaned the table with a wet wipe before I sat down. I never, never ate anything that wasn't packaged, sealed, and with a clear list on ingredients, or that I hadn't made myself. Therefore, I hadn't had any reactions from ingesting peanuts, which are the kind most likely to be lethal in under five minutes. I'd had lots of reactions from physical contact or from the smell or from inhaling peanut dust, but they were less likely to be severe and I'd always taken medication. I thought I should be commended for my diligence, and that it was obvious I must be very allergic if I was still managing to get sick from peanuts even with all I was doing to stay safe.
The allergist wasn't the first person I'd heard this from. Adults my parents had attempted to explain me to found it hard to believe that I could be as allergic as they said I was if they didn't have at least one horror story about a doctor pulling me back from the brink.
I don't like having reactions. They hurt. A lot. I think it makes sense that I go out of my way to avoid them.
My parents convinced the allergist that I should be tested anyway, just to humor them. We didn't get the results of the test until a few days later, by phone call, when we were back home. Which is too bad, because I would have liked to watch his face when he learned that yes, I did in fact have a severe allergy, yes, it was bad enough to be lethal, and yes, I did need a service dog.
If I was diabetic or asthmatic or something I wouldn't have to tell people a near-death horror story to make them believe me. It's irritating that I need to do so for an allergy.