Content for Now (Blog #445)

This morning I got up at 6:15 in order to go to Fayetteville and be tested for allergies. This was something both my primary care physician and immunologist suggested after all the blood work from my recent battery of tests came back as “pristine,” just as good as anyone else’s if not better (so there). I’ve been looking forward to being tested, thinking we’d finally have an answer to my lifelong sinus infection problems and recent skin irritations. But when I got up this morning I was nervous. I thought, What if I’m allergic to dogs, dust mites, grass, and everything else under the sun? Do I really want to KNOW that?

Thinking it was quite possible for me to “flare up” in response to being tested this morning, my friend Bonnie offered to take me. “If your body overreacts and you feel miserable,” she said, “you shouldn’t have to drive.” Wasn’t that kind of her? I’ve been dragging myself to doctor appointments for months now–alone–and that’s okay–but I can’t tell you what it meant to have someone simply offer to tag along, what’s more to actually go. At the butt crack of dawn.

Talk about a good friend. (I guess that’s what I’m doing.)

At the allergy clinic, I was taken excellent care of. They even weighed me in kilograms to protect my ego. (I’m under a hundred!) Now that’s service. But seriously, I was there for a solid two hours, and half of that was them taking a full medical history and me getting to ask questions. Then came the “fun” part, when the nurse scratched or pricked me sixty different times to test me for common allergens like dogs, cats, mold, ragweed, and every tree you can think of. For this I lay shirtless on my stomach as I gripped the table and–with each needle scratch–practiced enunciating my favorite curse words.

She-it!

Son of a bi-otch!

Y’all, these expletives were justified. It felt like the nurse was planting saplings between my shoulder blades with a rusted shovel. Granted, it didn’t hurt that bad at first, but it just went on and on–poke, poke, poke–like some sort of medieval torture device. What’s worse, I could have sworn the nurse was getting off on it, like one of those demented people on YouTube who enjoys popping zits, except this woman was popping perfectly good skin (mine). I can’t say how long this went on, but I was so grateful when it was over that I rededicated my life to the lord.

Of the sixty scratches, only fifty-eight contained actual potential allergens. The other two were controls, one being saline (which shows as non-reactive), the other being straight (as opposed to gay?) histamine (which shows as reactive). As I understand it, a person is “allergic” to any substance that hives up like the histamine control. The results take fifteen minutes to “come in,” during which time you’re not allowed to roll over or scratch. The nurse told me, “If you do, we’ll have to start over.”

So get this shit.

At the end of fifteen minutes, the nurse said I wasn’t allergic TO ANYTHING. That’s right, all that worrying, and nothing on my back hived up in response to our region’s most offensive allergens. See for yourself in the photo below. (The red dots are a normal reaction to having your skin scratched WITH A FREAKIN’ NEEDLE, and the one big bump in the lower right corner is the straight histamine.)

In response to why I sometimes sneeze or have watery eyes, the doctor and nurse explained that a person can be “intolerant” of things like animals or pollen but not truly be allergic to them. (Take an antihistamine, they said.) So that was the joke between Bonnie and me on the way home–that I’m INTOLERANT–I won’t put up with allergens, I simply won’t abide them. (UH-CHEW.) Honestly, I don’t know what to do with this information. Most of me is relieved. This is good news. Really good news. My immune system works. Better than I thought it did. (I was wrong, guys.) At the same time, SOMETHING has been negatively contributing to my health issues lately, and I still don’t know what that is. Alas, I leave this mystery for another day, content for now in the knowledge that something I thought was horribly broken (me)–isn’t.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Things are only important because we think they are.

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Closer and Closer (Blog #425)

Believe it or not, I’ve been up since 6:45 this morning and have been going (mostly) strong for 17 hours. Now it’s just before midnight, and I’m ready to pass out. However, that won’t happen until this blog’s done, nor will it happen until I change the sheets on my bed, which my doctor told me this morning that I should do. That’s right, I have a prescription for clean sheets. Did you know you’re supposed to wash those suckers more than once every presidential term?

As some of you are aware, my health since last October has been spotty at best. For months I had a sinus infection, then caught the flu twice, and have been struggling with a rather nasty skin irritation where no one wants a skin irritation. My primary care physician, whom I saw for the first time in January, then again in February, referred me to an immunologist, the thought being that I was basically born without a full deck in terms of my immune system. So six weeks ago I saw the immunologist, who said my blood work so far was pristine. “But let’s run some more tests,” he said. “We’ll check your lymphocytes and your antibody response to two vaccines.”

So that’s what we did, the final results came in last week, and I saw BOTH my doctors this morning. First I saw my primary care physician, and we mostly talked about two things–my allergy and skin issues–and my feeling shaky. I’ll do my best to keep this simple. In terms of my allergies, she said, “Let’s get you tested to see WHAT you’re allergic too. Once we know, it may be as simple as avoiding exposure (wouldn’t that be nice?). In the meantime, get new pillows if they’re older than six months (uh, try fifteen years) and clean your sheets, since dust mites are a problem for a lot of people, and they like to live where you like to sleep. Also, here’s a new cream to try for your rash.”

Speaking of the rash, earlier she’d said, “Maybe you’re allergic to condoms.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’d have to be DOING IT for that to be the case.”

But really, I live with my parents.

Anyway, regarding my shaking, my doctor confirmed that it was benign essential tremors, which run in my family and we’d discussed before, but have been worse lately. (They’re not overly visible to anyone except me, but they’re driving me crazy.) Here she said that there aren’t a lot of good options until things get dramatically worse, but that some people have had success with CBD oil (which is derived from the cannabis plant and legal in all 50 states, Mom), so I could try that.

The only downside–it doesn’t get you high. That’s a joke. I’d be a terrible pot-head. First, I’m paranoid enough as it is. Second, pot gives you the munchies. I’m trying to LOSE weight over here, not GAIN IT.

Shit, now I’m thinking of pizza.

Otherwise, my doctor recommended a couple (more) supplements I could try and said to come back in six weeks. Feeling encouraged, I killed some time by reading a book then went to my appointment with the immunologist. I’ll get right to it–here’s what he said as he sat across from me scratching his head and poring over my numbers. “Everything looks great. I’m not sure that I’ve EVER seen anyone whose immune system responded AS WELL to being vaccinated as your did. It did exactly what it should have–and more.”

I’m quite sure I blushed. “Why, thank you. We do try.”

The immunologist went on to explain that my immune system really did look superior. “There’s nothing technically wrong,” he said, “although some people have systems that are predisposed to certain infections, which maybe yours is.” When he got up to leave he said, “On one hand, you can be proud that you have such a stellar immune system. On the other, you can be pissed off that we didn’t find anything we can fix.”

“Fabulous,” I said, “I’ll be sure to be both of those things–proud and pissed off–for at least the rest of the day.”

Leaving the immunologist’s office, I went shopping for the CBD oil and one of the supplements my primary care physician recommended. (So far I’ve taken one dose of the CBD oil, and my hands are still shaking. What the hell?) Next I had lunch with a friend, drove home, taught two dance lessons this evening, then went to Walmart to buy new pillows and thus begin The Great Dust Mite Removal of 2018. My bed sheets are drying as we speak, as are the new cotton underwear I bought, which my doctor said I should wear for the rash “to let things breathe.”

I said, “Cotton underwear don’t sound sexy at all.”

She replied, “Well since you’re not SHOWING THEM to anyone anyway, then it doesn’t matter WHAT they look like.”

Everyone’s a comedian.

My body is healthy and capable.

Now I’m trying to make sense of all that’s happened today. I think I’m mostly thrilled. It really is good news that my immune system is not only not-broken, but is probably better than yours (nanana boo boo). And having spent the last several months thinking that something was seriously wrong, I’d like to be clear–this is a huge relief. That being said, I HAVE had a lot of problems lately, and it’s frustrating that I still don’t have a concise answer as to why. Consequently, I’ve been going back and forth today. One minute I’ve been thinking, Maybe my body is a lot healthier and more capable than I’ve been giving it credit for. The next minute, What if all this shit just keeps going on forever–the doctors, the appointments? What if we never get it figured out? But mostly I’ve been thinking, What if I have to wear not-cute, old-man cotton underwear for the rest of my life? But seriously, I’m trying to trust that all these things will work themselves out, that my body still has a few healing tricks left up its sleeve, that we’re getting closer and closer to a resolution.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Some things simply take time and often more than one trip to the hardware store.

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