Feeling a bit blasé?

I poisoned my self quite nicely this weekend. A combination of impatience and excitement led me to overlook how long I should let the glue dry on my scuba equipment before I got it near me under pressure.

Fortunately for me, our wonderful scuba gear guru for the club came over to do all the hazardous material handling -- acetone and silicone glue, even taking the drysuit outside at 10:30 at night so that the acetone fumes would not come into the house! What a guy! I, unfortunately, did not think through how long I had let this glue cure and get washed out the last time I had used it to repair a wetsuit. This time it was going to be pretty close to me, pressurized inside a drysuit -- I should have let it cure for a a few days and washed it for a few more before getting it anywhere close to me. I am now paying for that little lapse of judgement. Also -- I was feeling a bit indisputable since I have been eating prednisone and zantac like skittles to survive a big gala at work.. All and all a recipe for disaster. Hoist by my own petard, mas non?

So, now on day 3 of having hands like catechers mitts and a face like a basket ball, sporty but uncomfortable, I was ready for hypocondria search time on the interwebs. Just looking for a way to reduce swelling post reaction -- I know what I did and that clearly I'm a horrible warning and menace to myself. No need to remind me.

I may, however, may be getting a bit too blasé about this whole "life threatening allergy" concept.

The first answer I found, on WebMD, "Allergic reaction. Sudden swelling of the hands and face may be a severe allergic reaction (anaphylaxis) and needs immediate medical evaluation."

The first thought that popped into my head, "I can breathe, it's not an emergency. This is useless."

When is it an emergency? I noticed during our second descent that I was working too hard and using my air quickly. I was having some issues and brought my buddy back to the surface after about 10 min since we were just doing a quick tour around the shallows to adjust some equipment. Since I felt off, I opted to hang out while the instructor took him out to test his navigation skills. I hung around near the shore testing my new valve and just floating around checking out the adjustments to the suit to make sure nothing was leaking.

When they came back to shore, my instructor noticed that I looked odd -- I told him that I thought was breathing a bit to hard on the easy dive and was going to drink something hot and see how I felt. Also, I opened the neck seal on my suit to see if I was just asphyxiating a just little from being sealed in too well.

Is is a fish or Christine having a reaction?

My buddy and I slogged our way back up the hill (this is cold water quarry diving -- drysuits or 5-7mm wetsuits are de rigueur pretty much year round) -- leaving our gear at the bottom for the next dive. Not thinking that I was having a reaction, I was SHOCKED when I saw my face in the window of the SUV. I looked like an unhappy grouper -- mottled skin and puffy puffy lips. As much as I like the fish, I really don't want to look like one of those guys!

My dive buddy, who was working on his skills for his advanced certification, clearly earned his advanced allergy card that day.  All I said was "I think I'm having a reaction to my suit, I need to get out of it."  He dropped his sandwich on the ground and was ready to jab me with a the epi-pen, cut me out of my suit (Please, please, please,  no holes in the drysuit!) or grab the oxygen tank and crank it up in a flash. Had I needed any serious assistance I would have been in good shape. But I was already popping my meds, proceeding calmly and waiting till I could get a hand to get the neck zippers open calmly and carefully, since I'm still looking for a corn-free wax for the zippers.  Not only did he get me divested of my corn-y gear in record time, he carried my tanks and heavy gear back up the hill while I staggered around while the corn-free Benadryl was kicking in -- and then he drove my car back home. That is major points in Do Not Kill Christine.

So when is it an emergency? I'm getting good at staying calm and watching what is going on, probably because I don't want to: 1. accidentally drop dead, 2. unnecessarily use the Epi-pen.  That's a very fine line.  It can be a bit of an out of body experience to watch yourself be almost consumed by the sensation that you choking and the concomitant urge to run in circles making the international throat-grabbing sign for "I. Can't. Breathe! while instead keeping your butt planted in your seat and  slowly counting your inhales and exhales. Calm, Slow, In, Out. I'm breathing. My nail beds are not blue. It's not really an emergency.

For me, there are two signs that it is time to crack out the Epi-pens.  When, after a few moment (that feel like years) I can't catch my breath after I've moved into the easy-breather position -- head toward knees, shoulders moving up and down with each inhale in an effort to make more space -- and and I'm getting confused about what to do. At that point it is hard to remember that when I can't figure out what to do, it is a sign that it is Epi-pen time. The other sign is the "feeling of impending doom" or just the plain old "Oh $h*%" feeling where it becomes clear that this is not going to end well.

Then it is Epi-Pen time.Uncap, swing and jab firmly into thigh. Fight the urge to pull it out at the first sting and count to ten.  By the time I get to eight, that band that has been tightening around my ribs and the squeeking stiffnes in my lungs has disapeared. The world starts to swing back into focus on nine and by ten, I'm gulping in a full breath and so so so so very happy that I can get so very much air into my so very open lungs. Bliss for a moment or two, while I grab my allergy buddy and head off to the ER to get stabilized.

 I've had two rebound reactions, so I'm a big believer in following up with IV prednisone, benadryl and a nice nebulizer of albuterol or xopenex.  And in theory being observed for the next 6 hours. That depends on the ER. I have had a few reactions where I can see in retrospect that Epi-Pen would have been a good idea, but it ended well and I had a watcher with me at the time. I just didn't want to go spend the next 8 hours in the ER particularly on a weekend night when it would be full of the drunk/drugged/overdosed/crazed. Afternoons are a much better time.  But really, that should not be a factor in the decision.

Not every reaction sets off the entire cascade where I need to go to defcon-whatever and jab myself with adrenaline, and I do live VERY carefully.  When it does, I am SO grateful that to have Epi-pens. I'm even more grateful to my absolute rockstar friends who will jab me, since it is hard for me not to flinch and pull the pen back out when it stings.   That's a real friend.

Today I look like a cross between an unhappy grouper and a baseball beta-version of Edward Sissorhands. I'm conjested and less than 100%, but I can breathe.  This is not an emergency and not likely to become one unless my fashion crisis, of wanting to wear a retro hat w/ a veil till I look less pelagic, counts.

When is it an emergency for you?


A handy site that lets you prepare a customized anaphylaxis / Epi-pen action plan: https://allergysafecommunities.ca/pages/emergency-form.asp

You can add your photo, specific allergy information and 3 emergency contacts.  There are also fill in the blank sheets with Epi or Twinject instructions available
https://allergysafecommunities.ca/pages/default.asp?catid=38

Fashion Crisis

I took me three tries to get dressed for work today. Not because I'm particularly fashionable, if is clean and matches I'm good, but rather because each outfit kept failing the one important criteria that only occurred to me after I had gotten fully dressed for the first time.

How will this work if I wind up in the ER?

Outfit 1. The skirt has to go, too cold in the hospital. Once the IV goes in I'm begging for warm blankets from the Bearhugger.

Outfit 2. Rejected again. The pullover sweater is comfy for the dentist visit, the reason for my considering the ER as a possible destination today, but I don't want to get my head stuck in it when I am trying my best to breathe. Pullover is out.

Outfit 3. Pants. Button-up blouse. Button up sweater. Warm, soft, easy access for those heart monitor stickies if needed. Light on the jewelry, Medical Alert easily visible. Purse with Epi-Pen, other emergency meds and a list of corn-based ingredients.

Perfect.

Bring on the dentist and all those chemicals. They were great the first time and I hope they can continue this streak. I have a designated friend to meet me at the ER if everything goes wrong and a good day planed after this if everything goes right. Either way, I'm ready.

Besties

I'm ridiculously over attached to my best friend. My dependable, there for me, ready in pinch, always got my back, never out of reach best friend.

I think I used to be more normal (though my Lakota brother may disagree with that one). Not so long ago my best friend was human. I haven't gone completely around the materialist bend, at least it's not diamonds that are this girl’s best friend.

I never, ever leave home without my best friend. Not for a walk, not for a quick trip to the store, not to go to a meeting, not for anything. Ever. Er..except today.

Today is not a good day to die, but I carelessly, friendlessly, sauntered in that direction.

First mistake, leaving home without my best friend, the Activeaide bag (2 Epi-pens, Benadryl, Gloves, Zantac).

Second mistake, deciding being on time was more important than being safe. Fortunately I had backup Zantac and Benadryl in my work bag --put some in my back pocket and headed out to a work luncheon (where I was not eating, of course).

Third mistake, not making a graceful exit when I saw the corn on the cob being served. I thought, “Outdoor venue, no problem I’ll just stay far away.”

Fourth Mistake...that's enough. Suffice it to say I earned another stripe on the horrible warning badge today, took Benadryl with no backup and hoped for the best. I’ve only had fumes from cooking corn require an Epi-pen once, today was not to be the second time time. After it was over, I zoomed home to grab the purse with my Activeaide bag.

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I generally have to laugh at the foolish mistakes I make, since in the grand scheme of things my problems are rather minor and manageable. But, even with a large dose of perspective, there are still moments where I scare myself.

Driving back to the office after picking up everything I needed to keep breathing in case of an anaphylactic reaction, I attempted to drown out the internal chorus of "Fool!" by cranking the CD to window rattling volume. Instead of helping, hearing Tod A. growl out "This is no joke, this is my life," loosed the last reserves holding back the fear. Springing out, all the worse for having been compressed, the consequences I had managed not to think about found physical expression in shaking hands and blurred eyes. Trying to cope at 60 miles an hour, I sang along with Tod through chattering teeth till the adrenaline wore off.

I'm still learning to manage this allergy on my own. Odds are, I'm going to screw up. Such is life. I'm lucky to be able to live and learn. After I post this I'm putting my backup Epi-pens in my work bag along with the extra stage one meds. Lesson learned, better preparedness in the future.

Then I'm cranking up the rest of the my new music* and dancing around the house till I can't remember what fear feels like.

*(Thanks for the all the music Jed, it’s 100% corn free and fantastic!)

Ordering Nothing

Having Ted in town gave me the opportunity to test the eating out without eating theory. Eating out without eating is just ordering something small so you don't have to sit there with nothing in front of you, toying with it and/or getting your companion(s) to eat it. You've ordered, so you've fulfilled the general function of a patron in a restaurant, but you haven't eaten anything you are allergic to, so you are not sick. Win/win in my book.

This won't work in every situation, you will need:

1. An easygoing dinner companion, preferably one that is hungry
-someone who understands your allergy, knows you can’t eat anything off the menu
-someone interesting enough that you are there for the company, not the food!
2. Forethought and planning!
-eat beforehand
-warn your dinner companion that you are going to order an appetizer only, and you are ordering just to order and you need someone else to eat it :)
-don’t order something made with your allergen or a food that you have a hard time resisting
3. The ability to act
-you can still look happy to get the food and enjoy the smell (as long as you are not hungry, this will be fine)
-share with your companion, but be sure you pick up your silverware and play with a few pieces, nudge a bit around, sip your drink, use your napkin

Truth is, at a restaurant people are not paying that much attention to anyone outside their party, so as long as you have decent manners, you can save yourself the big song and dance about your allergy by just doing the appetizer trick and getting a safe drink (mineral water for me, or a cup of tea --yes, I carry corn free tea bags in my purse). I tip like I ate a real meal since I’m still taking up the same space and time from the staff.

Ted is more easygoing than most, so my playing with the calamari while he ate didn’t bother him at all. As I've said earlier, I was there for the company, so I was having a great time. The lack of food for me wasn't an issue since I wasn't hungry.

I don’t know how well this would go over with someone not so well adjusted to my restrictions or so relaxed. I’ll keep you posted.

(There is always the other option of calling the manager, bringing something you can eat, having them put it on a plate for you and playing a plating fee. And, hoping that it doesn't get contaminated in the kitchen. Of course, I am REALLY careful, due to the severity of my reaction and not wanting to waste time with a reaction while I have a guest.)

I’ll have a ?

Recently spent two evenings lurching down memory lane with a college buddy in from the West Coast, no Benadryl or Epi-pens involved. The lurching was due to visiting some of the haunts where we had whiled away a few evenings debating the meaning of life, swapping stories of our latest adventures and dancing off stress. My companion for this time travel was was Ted, gentle readers who know him IRL already know this means a visit to every bar from our salad days. For those of you that are fans of 70’s TV, his blog pseudonym comes from a M*A*S*H episode, enough said*. He took me to my first bar in the States and taught me how to tip for drinks, so this re-visit, complete with new lessons, was particularly apropos. (Point of clarification, I'm not completely without social graces. I'd turned 21 in the Philippines--had been traveling/living in countries w/out the drinking age restrictions or tipping so I missed out on that all-American rite of passage.)

I’ve always preferred caffeine to alcohol, ordering like Radar O’Reilly never botheres me. These days the grape Nehi’s all have corn syrup or other corn derivatives, the only really safe drink is a bottle of natural mineral water; something like a Perrier or San Pellegrino is perfect. Not all bottled water is corn free; I’ve been poisoned by Dasini and Aquafina which makes me leery of any purified municipal water that has minerals added.

I’m great to take out for drinks – as I’ve had pointed out soooooo often by friends and family, the allergy makes me a cheap date. No fancy-shmancy $12 cocktails for this gal. Another point in my favor is happy designated driver status, no worries with me at the wheel. Two points – however, going out for a drink in a college town wipes the board clean. Unless you have someone like Ted along to charm the bartender into grabbing some Perrier from the restaurant next door, it’s a cup of water from the drinks gun (definite cross contamination) in a plastic cup (possible use of corn oil on the cup) with a straw (ditto) and, if you are really lucky, a corn-waxed wedge of lime. I was there for the conversation not a drink, so no problem for me. Happy and laughing is a good day in my book. Great friend + witty conversation, what more could I really want? Ted’s chivalry kept bubbling up, so off we’d go to the next den of iniquity in search of good music (abysmal failure) and the elusive Perrier. In two nights on the town, one bar and one restaurant out of an entire college town managed a corn-free cold drink. Not even the nice gay bar could do better than a glass of water. *shrug*

I can’t say that the lack of options of this bothers or surprises me. Three lessons, I guess. One, I need to get out more (surprise!). Two, you can’t expect to get a grown-up drink in a college bar. Three, if you do want to have something to drink, listen to your Uncle Ted: be prepared; throw a couple of chilled bottles in that big bag with the Epi-pens and Benadryl; smile; show your medical alert tag; explain nicely and ask if you can pay a corkage** fee for bringing your own drink. If they don’t want to charge you, be sure to tip well.


**Yes I know it’s a screw top on the water, humor me.

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*It's so difficult to adequately describe a friend in less then a few pages, they come off sounding so mono-dimensional. The best I can do in a small space is to say Ted is a bit of Hawkeye Pierce combined with Captain Sam Vimes and Ocsar Wilde with a soupcon of Ford Prefect. He has a wicked wit covered by a angelic grin that would make Michelangelo weep. Still missing a lot, but for now it will have to do.