Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?
It began in January, when I was housesitting for a couple of friends. During an evening work event, I started to itch under my clothes. By the time I got home and into the shower, my whole torso was completely broken out in hives. The next day I was fine, so I forgot about it.
Then in September, torreycanyon and I went to stay with The Other Lesbian in Chicago for a few days. The first full day we were there, I was interviewing law students for summer jobs when I started itching again. For the rest of the trip, and any time in the following week that I came in contact with any of the clothes I had brought on the trip, I was covered in hives. I couldn't really sleep or focus on anything because I was so intensely uncomfortable. I was taking two or three Benadryl at a time for days.
Somewhere in there I realized that it had to be cats. I have been allergic to cats for a long time, although a generalized skin reaction is new - it used to just be sneezing and itchy eyes. But the friends I housesat for have cats, and so does The Other Lesbian. (The other possible culprits were a particular pair of law students from a Bay Area school, who happened to be both at the work event in January and the career fair in Chicago in September, but I am pretty sure it is not them.)
Now I'm in New York, staying with my college friend Liz. I knew I was taking a risk in coming here, because Liz has a cat, Kitty MacKinnon. I thought maybe I would be safe with just Kitty, because the other episodes involved multiple cats. Not so. It appears that my limit is 3 cat-days, the equivalent of one day in TOL's 3-cat house, or 3 days in Liz's one-cat house. On Thursday night in Philadelphia, far away from Kitty MacKinnon but close to clothes that had been in her home, I started with the itching again. I spent the weekend in a hotel in Manhattan with clean clothes and took lots of Benadryl, but it didn't go away - my whole legs, arms, back, and finally this morning my face were covered in hives.
I was actually kind of getting used to it, but then Liz and I went to a pumpkin-carving party tonight after I got back to Brooklyn, and on the short walk over there my toes and fingers swelled up. Then I felt my throat swelling, and by the end of the party my upper lip was seriously swollen in both corners. I could still breathe fine, but obviously, the trajectory was not good.
When we got home I googled key terms and discovered that it was impossible to find a credible-seeming website that didn't say that someone in my situation should go to the ER. Then I called 911 and talked to an EMT just to check, because I really do not like to make unnecessary, out-of-insurance-network ER trips late at night, and because I am hypochondriaphobic, as well as lazy. The EMT thought I should go in too.
So Liz walked over with me to her local hospital and we spent 4 hours there. The upshot is, I didn't die, and I didn't actually get to the point of anaphylactic shock. But they gave me a bunch of prednisone, with a prescription for more so that I can survive the week, and a prescription for an Epi pen.
Hello prednisone, my old friend. I left the hospital 45 minutes ago. Already, my skin looks almost normal again, and my sausage toes are approaching a familiar shape. I don't itch, although I'm suddenly dehydrated. And now it is finally time for me to do my Sunday night Rebif shot, to let my multiple sclerosis know that I haven't forgotten it in all the excitement.
The miracle of modern medicine is all of the terrible substances it takes to make a body stop attacking itself.
Then in September, torreycanyon and I went to stay with The Other Lesbian in Chicago for a few days. The first full day we were there, I was interviewing law students for summer jobs when I started itching again. For the rest of the trip, and any time in the following week that I came in contact with any of the clothes I had brought on the trip, I was covered in hives. I couldn't really sleep or focus on anything because I was so intensely uncomfortable. I was taking two or three Benadryl at a time for days.
Somewhere in there I realized that it had to be cats. I have been allergic to cats for a long time, although a generalized skin reaction is new - it used to just be sneezing and itchy eyes. But the friends I housesat for have cats, and so does The Other Lesbian. (The other possible culprits were a particular pair of law students from a Bay Area school, who happened to be both at the work event in January and the career fair in Chicago in September, but I am pretty sure it is not them.)
Now I'm in New York, staying with my college friend Liz. I knew I was taking a risk in coming here, because Liz has a cat, Kitty MacKinnon. I thought maybe I would be safe with just Kitty, because the other episodes involved multiple cats. Not so. It appears that my limit is 3 cat-days, the equivalent of one day in TOL's 3-cat house, or 3 days in Liz's one-cat house. On Thursday night in Philadelphia, far away from Kitty MacKinnon but close to clothes that had been in her home, I started with the itching again. I spent the weekend in a hotel in Manhattan with clean clothes and took lots of Benadryl, but it didn't go away - my whole legs, arms, back, and finally this morning my face were covered in hives.
I was actually kind of getting used to it, but then Liz and I went to a pumpkin-carving party tonight after I got back to Brooklyn, and on the short walk over there my toes and fingers swelled up. Then I felt my throat swelling, and by the end of the party my upper lip was seriously swollen in both corners. I could still breathe fine, but obviously, the trajectory was not good.
When we got home I googled key terms and discovered that it was impossible to find a credible-seeming website that didn't say that someone in my situation should go to the ER. Then I called 911 and talked to an EMT just to check, because I really do not like to make unnecessary, out-of-insurance-network ER trips late at night, and because I am hypochondriaphobic, as well as lazy. The EMT thought I should go in too.
So Liz walked over with me to her local hospital and we spent 4 hours there. The upshot is, I didn't die, and I didn't actually get to the point of anaphylactic shock. But they gave me a bunch of prednisone, with a prescription for more so that I can survive the week, and a prescription for an Epi pen.
Hello prednisone, my old friend. I left the hospital 45 minutes ago. Already, my skin looks almost normal again, and my sausage toes are approaching a familiar shape. I don't itch, although I'm suddenly dehydrated. And now it is finally time for me to do my Sunday night Rebif shot, to let my multiple sclerosis know that I haven't forgotten it in all the excitement.
The miracle of modern medicine is all of the terrible substances it takes to make a body stop attacking itself.