January 11, 2008 04:00 am EAST LANSING (AP) -- Just as Linda Fedewa began tasting success with her cake decorating business, her doctors told her the cakes she made were killing her. Fedewa, owner of A Piece O'Cake bakery in East Lansing, learned 20 years ago that she had celiac disease, a condition that eroded her body's ability to get nutrients from food. Gluten, a protein found in wheat, rye, barley and some oats, had become the enemy her body attacked. To get well, doctors told Fedewa, she had to eliminate wheat and flour products from her diet. Pasta, pizza and bread were out, they said. And no more taste-testing the cakes she made for weddings, some costing as much as $7,000. "I felt like I was kicked in the stomach," said Fedewa, 57. But with help from her husband, Stan, Fedewa found ways to mix gluten-free flours in a way that produced fine-tasting cakes, cookies and croutons. Now, Fedewa creates highly detailed wedding cakes that have been featured in national magazines, while also making gluten-free baked goods ordered by people nationwide who have celiac disease. Fedewa, a Portland resident, stumbled into cake decorating in 1980 when her stepson asked for a clown cake for his birthday. She began with an $8 kit with a throwaway pan that she still owns. The cake was a hit, and soon she was fielding requests from neighbors to make fanciful cakes for their kids -- including one in the shape of a helicopter, complete with foil-wrapped rotor blades. The Fedewas later opened a storefront in Portland, and the business grew. But all was not well. "I'd been sick for about 21/2 years," Fedewa said, whose weight loss from 130 to 85 pounds prompted a question asked in private by her doctor: Are you anorexic? Fedewa got her diagnosis, and with it came the realization that her eating habits would have to drastically change. She was ready. "I knew I'd rather be dead than be that sick again," Fedewa said. One out of 133 people has the autoimmune disorder, according to the Celiac Disease Foundation. The bodies of those afflicted react to gluten as though it were a toxin, while the body attacks its own villi -- the structures in the intestines that absorb nutrients. Left untreated, celiac disease can lead to anemia, osteoporosis, malnourishment and some kinds of cancers, the foundation says. Fedewa kept baking, despite being unable to taste her own confections. Stan researched gluten-free recipes and different kinds of flour that could be used in place of wheat flour. After about 11 years of tinkering, the General Motors Corp. retiree finally found a blend that yielded the same result as standard flour. The Fedewas tested their new creations at a support group for celiac patients, who declared them a success. "Our whole goal is to make sure people like Linda can eat good things," Stan said. Linda started selling them at her bakery, which relocated to East Lansing about four years ago. Gluten-free products now make up nearly 25 percent of her business. But inhaling fine flour dust is harming Fedewa's lungs, which already are damaged with a form of emphysema. A year ago, after a bout with pneumonia that landed her in the hospital, Fedewa realized that she'd have to sell the business. "When you're in the hospital, it brings clarity," she said. "We had a good cry and realized that's the way it is." Soon, the business will belong to Kelly Kobus, 22, a recent Albion College graduate who took over the business Jan. 1 and believes the gluten-free side of the business one day will demand its own facility. Kobus said she didn't realize how important it was for celiac sufferers "until we had a woman come in the other day and cry because she could have cheesecake again." Kobus and Fedewa are currently working together. Fedewa plans to stay on the job until mid- to late-2008, when she and Stan will leave for a cross-country trip to visit their six children. Kobus said she wants to maintain the cake and gluten-free aspects of the business, and add online ordering. For now, she enjoys baking -- and learning -- from Fedewa. "Fortunately, we like each other a lot," Kobus said. "It's already like we're part of each others' family."
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