Hives are for the Bees

I'm not a fan of long posts, so I apologize in advance.

As I've mentioned, I was on steroids for hives a couple of weeks ago. And as I mentioned, they did a lot for me, but didn't get rid of the hives. I wish that that was the end of the story, but there's more. So last Tuesday, when I stopped taking the steroids, I still had pretty bad hives. Bad enough that I was still taking claritins as much as possible just to stop itching.

Wednesday morning at work, just before I got off, I felt hives coming on pretty strong and without any meds from home, I took what was available at work... two benadryl. I found relief, but I was woozy driving home before I drifted off to sleep in bed. I did not sleep very well, and around four when I woke up, I didn't feel very good. I thought it was just the Benadryl making me feel funny, but then Tiff saw me and said something to the effect of, "Oh my god!" Apparently, my eyes were more or less swollen shut. It didn't surprise me, and I just said my throat feels funny.

We rushed to the hospital as my doctor's office was closed for the day. I was reluctant to go because I wasn't sure it constituted an emergency, but as is becoming the norm, my new wife won out. The ER folks were very nice. They set me up with stronger steroids, stronger anti-histamine's and heartburn medication, which they said acts both to counteract the steroids' side-effects and is an anti-histamine for a different kind of histamine.

I sat there a long time, and as my eye swelling went down and my throat went back to normal, I thought about posting about how boring the ER is compared to what you see on TV. We were there for a few hours, and there were no multiple gunshot victims or seven car pile-ups, no hatchets lodged behind eyes - there wasn't even any one who came in with something minor but it turned out to be an inoperable brain tumor. Just a lot of kids and a lady with a toothache. I would say that my situation definitely was an emergency comparatively. So they declared me healthy and sent me home stocked with more meds, all the while, with me still scratching. - There's so much more though that all that thought just gets a mention.

The next day, Thursday, I called my doctor up for a referral to an allergist. Concerned, she called for me and set up an appointment for that afternoon. Then she sent me to be tested for strept throat. As I'm waiting for the lady with the long Q-Tip - they have their own waiting room for lab work - my throat starts to feel funny. In the brilliance that is me, I wait for my test, then leave the doctor's. As I started wheezing in the car, I had the thought that I should turn back towards the doctor's, or maybe even the hospital, but boldly I continued home.

I told myself that I just needed something to clear it up... Claritin, Benadryl, it didn't matter. But as I got closer, and my wheezing became more audible, I began to worry. It would make sense to worry here but I was worried about the allergist's appointment that afternoon and whether or not it was okay to take anything before the doctor sees me. I make it home, climb the stairs and call the allergist. By this point, I need to take something. My wheezing is audible and uncontrollable and big breaths don't feel like enough. The receptionist notices this and asks if I'm okay. Then she tells me to get there immediately if I can get there. Otherwise, go to the hospital.
Tiff drives me there, twenty minutes in a new direction, which for her is a big deal in and of itself, but when about halfway there, I say through big breaths "Okay, if my throat closes up completely..." and then give the little bit of advice I know from my three hour First Aid class as I'm holding onto expired Benadryl FastMelts.

We make it there, only to get lost in the office park. When we finally walk in, I'm admittedly feeling better. It was like walking onto a movie set though, and I was the big name star. Everybody stopped what they were doing. "Oh you made it!" "Are you okay?" "Come right back, we'll do the paperwork later." Oh man, it was great! Although the first thing they did was take my blood pressure... something that's been happening all too often with all my recent trips to the doctor. That morning it was somewhere around 125 over 80, which was slightly higher than it normally is for me; right then, my blood pressure was 175 over 100. "Are you scared?" asked the nurse.

So in the end, I lived. After about eight hours of my skin feeling like it's crawling or shedding or something very painful, a nice talk with the doctor, a trip to the phlebotomist, back to the allergist for a painful shot in the butt, and back to the pharmacist for the second time in two days, I returned home and took a bath with oatmeal in it - it's supposed to help. I'm on much stronger steroids now for a much longer period, as well as some other meds. And I have to carry around an EpiPen to give myself shots when my life depends on it.

Here are some pictures from that night, after all the meds and after all the swelling went down. My legs are the worse of it but by "legs," I mean where I wear underwear, my thighs mostly, and nobody wants to see that much of me.
Later that night, I finally admitted to Tiff, "Yes, I was scared." I was very, very scared.