3 Shots & a Trip to the ER

On April 13th I made my first trip to the ER in an ambulance. It started out like any other Wednesday:  did a morning workout, went into work, went to lunch....and then my day took a turn - I went to the allergist's office. 

I didn't have allergies growing up; but my second year in Hoboken I discovered that the cold I had felt coming on for weeks was actually seasonal allergies. After a misguided (and sleepy) dose of Claritin in the middle of the day I started regularly taking the pills at night and found relief. 

Fast forward 8 years and I decided it might be time to visit the allergist and discover exactly what seasonal allergies I have. I called in January to get my appointment and was able to get one for April. I was also told that I should be off my meds for 5-8 days before coming in...this was super exciting news since my appointment was in the height of allergy season. 

Which brings us to the 13th of April and a very miserable Kara stuck in the waiting room for an hour before getting called back to do the prick test. After an itchy wait the results are in and I have...NO allergies. The doctor explains that sometimes with late onset allergies you have to get a blood test; she then gives me some Zyrtec to help with my current symptoms. As we are talking about allergies and follow-up tests, I feel like my tongue is a bit swollen - which I mention to her and tell her is probably just psychosomatic.

Turns out "psychosomatic" is immediately dismissed in a doctor's office and instead you get shoved into a room with a lot of nurses and have people shove tongue depressors in your mouth to look at your tongue. Turns out, it wasn't psychosomatic and my tongue was swollen, which resulted in a burly nurse pantsing me and the doctor giving me a shot with the EpiPen while I was still apologizing for not wearing cute underwear. This all happened in under 3 minutes from the first mention of a possibly swollen tongue. After we had calmed down from this whirlwind, the doctor explained that I was having an allergic reaction...just not sure what to...she also let me know that I would have to hang out in this room for 2 hours until the EpiPen wore off. They also told me that the shot was a bit like speed and that i shouldn't fight the reaction. As they reclined me back in the chair so that my feet would rest over my head I confessed that I had never had speed so I wasn't sure what they meant by fighting the reaction - apparently it makes your heart race and your arms and legs shake. I also asked if they could pull my pants up, but was informed they would have to stay down in case they had to give me another shot. 3 minutes later, the doctor came in to check on me and informed me that my tongue was still swollen and they stuck me again. I was once again reminded that this was like speed and not to fight the reaction...5 minutes later she informed me that my throat had some swelling and I received a third shot.  By then I felt like an expert and things calmed down. The doctor left the burly nurse to babysit me and every couple minutes she would ask how I was doing. She gave me a blanket and let me tip up the chair so that my head was finally over my feet. We were having a nice chat about my time in the Peace Corps. I was also getting sleepy from all the adrenaline and she kept up with her pestering questions about how I was feeling. I casually mentioned that it was "heavy" to breathe - what I meant that I was sleepy as the adrenaline was coming out of my system and so I was slow to take deep breaths... 

This turned out to be the wrong thing to say. As apparently they take the whole "breathing" thing really seriously, and I was informed that they were going to have to call an ambulance and I was going to have to go to the ER for observation. I asked if i could walk or take an Uber there (it's only 3 blocks!) and was informed that no, I could not. I then asked if I could pull my pants up - yes, yes I could. As I zipped up my pants, the first of the ambulances arrived and two guys came rushing in. After a quick exam they declared that I wasn't an emergency transport and that a second ambulance was on its way to take me in. They waited for it to arrive - presumably in case I turned into an emergency - and the nurses readied my paperwork. The second ambulance arrived and wheeling in the gurney was a beautiful, beautiful man, who wore his uniform extremely well. In a moment that can only be accredited to Grandma Ruthie, I blurt out as he came in "Well, at least they sent the hot one!"  He doesn't miss a beat, "We do what we can ma'am!" The ma'am puts me in my place; as does the reaction of the 2 ambulance workers who had arrived first - one snorted and the other piped up "Hey, I'm just like his shorter, less buff twin; only with better hair!" I let them load me onto the stretcher with the farewell:"Well, this certainly escalated quickly."

I spent the afternoon under observation and with an IV full of liquids. L.C. came and broke me out in the late afternoon and gave me a ride home - she also insisted on me filling my prescription for my very own EpiPen (this is before they skyrocketed in price), but also let me buy discounted Easter candy - I'm looking at you Cadbury mini eggs! I would also like to point out that said EpiPen was for an allergy that was not identified - the doc would later tell me that her best guess was that I had a reaction to the control in the test- i.e. the histamine...

So ladies and gentleman, this is the story of the Wednesday I had 3 shots and a trip to the ER. Moral of the story, don't go to the allergist out of curiosity. Second moral, if you are going to call the ambulance worker hot, don't do it in front of the other ambulance workers who have been in the room with you - they get offended.  Final moral (according to D.) do not dismiss your symptoms to doctors; because sometimes when your tongue feels like it is swollen, it is, and you need 3 shots of an EpiPen...but whatever, I got a funny blog post out of it.

Mama, Mom, Mommy!

My mom's 60th birthday was last month. She was here visiting me for a week so that we could do our annual trek to Nora Robert's Bed & Breakfast in Boonsboro, MD - a dual birthday celebration for us and a week of spoiling for me. She drove me to and from work all week, fixed me dinner, cleaned my apartment, and did laundry - what a way to spend her birthday week, right? But she was insistent that she just wanted to make my life a little easier for a week. In turn, I took her to the speakeasy and fancy dinner in Old Town and booked the Penthouse at the B&B. It was a lovely time, but not without some minor hiccups. 

I adore my mom. She is a pillar of strength and support in my life who has taught me to believe in myself and to persevere no matter what. As some of you know, our family has had more than its share of difficulties over the past 15 years. They chipped away at our unit little by little but in the process they forged a tight bond between me and my parents. During all of this my parents aged beyond their years and emotionally they were drained over and above their reservoir; and yet, through it all, they continued to push and support me to move beyond the devastation, even as they seemed to get pulled deeper in. In the end, my moving beyond it seemed to pull them out. The three of us are standing on the rubble these days, the foundation is still shaky but we are coming out on the other side of a long battle of depression, anxiety, and despair. 

Which brings me to why I am writing this post. My mother is one of a kind. She may not be outlandish like Ruthie, but she certainly inherited Ruthie's backbone of steel and determination to rise above life's challenges. She has been such an amazing example of strength and fortitude, I feel so fortunate to have her as a mom. While she spent the week spoiling me rotten, she was also battling a round of depression - a little present from dealing with the last 15 years. I wish I could say that I handled it like a champ and supported her the way she has supported me. But I didn't. You see, while mom wanted to spoil me, I wanted to spoil her and so I was frustrated when she wasn't excited about dinner plans and such. I didn't see what she was struggling with and was frustrated. The truth is, I didn't want to see. I want everything that has happened to just be done and forgotten, but it isn't and I don't always handle that super well. In the end the strength of our unit came through and we were able to talk about it - as we do with everything else - and she told me what was going on and we managed to have a mostly lovely week.  

Mom's struggle is real and difficult. She is no longer the flawless and fearless woman of my youth, nor is she the pillar (and sometimes enemy) of my teen years - she is now the friend of my adulthood. She is a woman who has overcome so much, she has wounds and scars, flaws and strengths, she suffers and succeeds, she cries a lot and laughs too loud, she is a terrible speller who is always trying to learn new things, she is a terrific and creative cook, she knows just where everything belongs and will put it there (even if you would rather she not rearrange your bedroom), she loves to dance and watch stupid movies, and she is a wonderful caring person who just wants what is best for her family. She is not perfect by any means, but she tries so hard to make life perfect for her family. She is one great mom and I am so happy that she is mine.