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17 january 2002

My one-woman play is coming up soon! Get info and a downloadable PDF for Girl Next Door Runs Amok.

changing my chemistry

Ye Smiling Denizens: I have some new info on the reviews page for you. This is an ongoing review that isn't quite complete, but I thought you'd like to read it and perhaps do this with me. I'm sure my friends and family will laugh themselves silly. Yes, I'm a teeth freak. Be quiet.

I haven't posted over the past few days for a couple of reasons. First, between work and show rehearsals, I'm pretty wiped out at the end of the day. Add to that NO ANTIHISTAMINE for the past week, and you've got a sniffly, wheezy, swollen-eyed, wiped out wreck of a lady.

You're thinking, "now that was dumb, Kim. Take your medicine."

Not supposed to before allergy testing. I guess the doctor wants a really grodie reaction, so he wants you all sensitive and miserable when you get there.

Anyone who has been around the Den for any time knows that I'm very attuned to health and well-being issues. I'm very healthy for a highly-allergic and asthmatic person, but this is primarily because I take exceptional care of myself. I'm probably hyper-consciencious about diet and exercise, but I have to be. Frequent exercise has increased my lung function to that of a mostly normal person, and beefed up my immune system. I've had dairy allergies all my life, so that's (mostly) out, too. Linda kind of giggled tonight and said, "I don't think I've ever seen you eat an egg."

Today, this may all change.

When I was a kid, Mom kept our house really clean. I had seasonal allergies, but it wasn't debilitating. When we would travel to other people's homes, especially those with animals, I would mysteriously become sick, but recover once home. Things got worse, especially the asthma, once I hit puberty and we moved to green, lush North Carolina. By making minor lifestyle changes, though, and being a generally active kid, I kept my head above water.

Most people grow out of allergies. I grew into mine. Rather, I think I slowly discovered them. Over the past five years in particular, they have evolved from a seasonal affliction to year-round, always-medicated, misery. There have been times where I feel great, like when I was a camp counselor and living outdoors for months on end. Surprising? Not when you consider that my immune system had acquired tolerance over time from being outdoors so much.

On Wednesday morning, I bared my back and arms for three hours of full-on allergy testing. One-hundred-fourteen substances. Poked into my skin. Sit still and don't scratch for about 30 minutes.

I knew I should have brought a six-pack.

Since the old days of scratch testing, this process has improved considerably. After my initial half-hour interview and history review, I first had to take an extra asthma treatment so that the tests wouldn't affect my breathing. The nurse then drew a grid on my back and arms, and did a histamine control test on one arm to make sure I'd break out good and gross. (I did.)

Let the fun begin.

She walked into the exam room with two trays filled with small, plastic vials. They had a tiny pin on each of them. She picked one up, poked, discarded. New vial, poke, discard.

60 or 70 pokes later, she instructed me to sit still. Whatever you do, don't scratch. Oh, and she double-warned me about the left side of the grid. She said it was already starting to look pretty uncomfortable.

REALLY? Please tell me there's a stucco wall in the next exam room please oh please oh please.

Over the next half-hour, I tapped my foot, walked around, sang songs, read Good Housekeeping, hit my head against the wall, and jumped up and down to avoid scratching the dozens and dozens of enormous hives that covered my back--and now, part of my abdomen. I heard a bell ding, and they immediately walked in to read the tests. Upon entering the room, the doctor said:

"Wow. You're allergic to almost everything."

But not sandpaper, which I was begging for. Just a small sheet, please oh please oh please scratch my back oooogh.

It didn't stop there. Because I'd had such serious reactions to something, I then got a few more tests on another arm with some bigger, barbed needles. I was allergic to those, too.

Thankfully, I was now ready for relief. The nice nurse rubbed my back with alcohol and some cream, which didn't help much but allowed me to put my sweater back on. I returned to the doctor's back office, and he began to desribe the (hopefully) life-changing procedure.

In two weeks, I begin a five-month series of twice-weekly shots on Wednesdays and Thursdays. It will be three to six shots each time. In five months, I get reevaluated for once-weekly immunotherapy, then again in a year. I am, in essence, being vaccinated against the natural world. There are no promises. I might feel nothing, get fifty percent better, or more. Considering that I've already developed some tolerance to cats just by having them, however, he has high hopes. I do, too.

I could have a lot worse stuff to deal with. I'm sure of it. Sometimes, though, allergies can seriously affect your quality of life. I don't think about it much, but I have to plan around them. I'm tired of being tired because my immune system is always in overdrive. Dog, maple, oak, and grass are not diseases to be fought. Now, someone just needs to tell my body that.