Sunday afternoon a yellow box appeared on the kitchen table. And since then it has moved around the house - to the kitchen, to the coffee table in the living room, to my bedroom, it took a ride in the car with me Monday morning, and now it's residing in the front of the hall closet. I don't need it sitting out anymore but I'm also a little terrified to put it too far away.
In the yellow box? An Epi Pen. A shot of epinephrine, or adrenaline. And until this weekend I had never held one or given one a second thought. But now, I find myself thinking about it. A lot.
For the past month, yep, a month, I've had a cold. Yep, the usual winter fare that I always seem to pick up no matter if I live in Michigan, Arizona or sunny southern California. So while in Michigan I went to Urgent Care, was diagnosed with a sinus infection, and given antibiotics (specifically a penicillin-based antibiotic). I took them for ten days and eventually started feeling better. We all had the crud in Michigan and I knew it would eventually pass. I felt great the day we traveled back to L.A. and the day after. However, that next Monday I woke up feeling like I had felt before I'd gone to Urgent Care. Sick again. Sick still.
I fought it for a week and then gave in. Obviously the sinus infection wasn't licked and I had added a nice deep cough to the mix. So the next Sunday off I went to Urgent Care, here in L.A., and was again diagnosed with a continuing sinus infection and given a prescription for more antibiotics (specifically a stronger dose of penicillin). I took the antibiotics for six days and was to take my last doses on Saturday. But then on Saturday I woke up covered in hives.
At first I thought, okay, this isn't horrible. It's a few hives in a few spots and they really itch but I've had poison ivy and it was worse so I can deal. Angela went off to our local pharmacy to get me some Benadryl and talk to the pharmacist. Between her advice and my mother's and the fact that the hives were doubling every few minutes I decided to head to Urgent Care. Off we went.
And I have to tell you, the folks at the Urgent Care I go to are great. It's a night and weekend operation that works out of a doctor's office and they've been super helpful to me over the last few years. Once there the doctor confirmed that I was having an allergic reaction, most likely to the penicillin, and gave me a steroid shot as well as a prescription for oral steroids, more Benadryl and Pepcid (which somehow reacts with the Benadryl and helps it last longer). So we headed home, Ang headed back to the pharmacy and I settled in for an evening of trying not to itch.
It was a very long evening but as I headed to bed that night I felt a little better. I was drinking water constantly, taking all my meds and thinking maybe I could swing church in the morning, if the hives on my eyelids completely disappeared overnight.
And then I woke up Sunday morning.
My hands had swollen, not just my fingers but the palms of my hands too. And the bottoms of my feet. And the hives were back in full force. So Angela went to church and I took to the couch. But by 1pm we were headed back to Urgent Care.
Again, the folks there were great. Before registering me (i.e., billing me) the receptionist, who I know well by now, took me back to the doctor and asked if I should be seen or be sent directly to the ER. The doctor (a UCLA resident who I'm sure works in the ER most days, so I was not worried about my level of care at all) examined me thoroughly before deciding she could treat me. They tested my kidneys, my lungs and sent me home with that damn yellow box.
(And oh yeah, that box wasn't cheap either. My parents are awesome, that's all I'll say.)
So Angela and I went home and tried to settle down. I monitored the swelling closely and just as I'd notice my pinkie feeling better, my bottom lip would start to swelling incrementally. It was another long evening. And not just because of the physical issues, but I also experienced something new: what I think was my first (and second, third, etc.) panic attack. I knew things weren't right. I knew I didn't feel well. But I also knew we'd done what we could, we trusted the doctors and we had to wait this out. So I waited. That night Angela slept in my room, I wore winter gloves to stop from itching in my sleep and no one got much sleep at all. And when the alarm went off and I sat straight up in my bed, I knew it was game over. Something else had to be done.
I got up and went to the mirror and I couldn't really see myself. I wear glasses and contacts so that's not unusual but even when I squinted, it didn't work. I turned on the light and realized my face didn't look like me. I turned around to Angela and she made a sound and jumped out of bed. Within five minutes we were somehow dressed and in the car on the way to the ER. Luckily Angela's been there several times and we live just a couple of miles from Cedars-Sinai Hospital. There wasn't any traffic and before seven we were there. It's a good thing. I was dizzy and shaking and it was getting really hard to breathe on my own.
The hospital staff was excellent. They took me immediately in, and I was in a bed in the ER within minutes. The doctor and nurses who treated me - giving me my very first taste of Epi - were great. I was given IV steroids, Benadryl, Zantac, fluids, etc. I was given more meds. And I started to look and feel like myself again. I shook a lot from the IV, and they had these really nice heated blankets they put over me. Angela was allowed to stay with me the whole time and use her phone so she could keep my parents updated. And best of all? By the time we left, just over six hours later, the swelling in my face was completely gone.
That was three days ago. It's Thursday now. I'm still on steroids (tapering down through Saturday) but haven't taken the Benadryl in hours which is a good sign. The only evidence of the hives is faint. I feel exhausted and physically off a little but that's to be expected according to everyone, my body had to fight kinda hard this weekend to keep going.
And that yellow box? It's still close by, mostly for peace of mind. Hopefully in a few days it'll be shoved to the back to the closet and forgotten, never to be needed again.
I am grateful. I am thankful. I am blessed. But most of all? I am conscious of every breath I take, literally and figuratively.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Letters from the past
Yesterday I got a call from one of my favorite people. She had been going through a box of letters and cards she'd found in storage and wanted to read me something. It was a letter I had written her circa 1996, when we were in our freshmen year of college. Yes, back then we wrote letters. See, she lives in Texas and at the time, I lived in Michigan.
In the letter I talked about taking working to save up money to buy a modem and enough money to pay for Internet services. I didn't yet have email and I was hoping to get it soon. Can you imagine? I'm having a hard time remembering a time before Facebook let alone before email. I do remember it being a year or so after that before I would get my first email account (the one I still use daily!). Gosh, that was SIXTEEN years ago. And yet...it seems like only a few days ago.
That's why I love letters. I love anything in written form. I can recount whole relationships with letters and cards and notes I have in Rubbermaid under my bed. My mom has been cleaning out my grandmother's house and I love when she brings home drawings or cards from when I was little. I love seeing the handwriting of those I love. Is there really anything better than finding a letter or a card in the mail?
It's hard to picture sixteen years from now - and know that there won't be such a box filled with memories from today. People, at least the people in my life, don't send notes and cards like they used to. Now we have Facebook and texts and, if it's a long drawn out affair, the old-fashioned email. But looking (and hearing) back on those memories is something special.
Back then I was thinking of moving to New York. I thought California was too far away. I was babysitting for the first time two little girls who are now out of college and all grown up. I was studying psychology and hating it. I was looking forward to the marriage of said favorite person - who now has three little ones!
Memories. In whatever shape or form or picture are so important. Lately I've been looking back, which I think is so important in moving forward. Looking back and holding tight. And to keep it going, I'm going to go write some letters and put some stamps on them.
In the letter I talked about taking working to save up money to buy a modem and enough money to pay for Internet services. I didn't yet have email and I was hoping to get it soon. Can you imagine? I'm having a hard time remembering a time before Facebook let alone before email. I do remember it being a year or so after that before I would get my first email account (the one I still use daily!). Gosh, that was SIXTEEN years ago. And yet...it seems like only a few days ago.
That's why I love letters. I love anything in written form. I can recount whole relationships with letters and cards and notes I have in Rubbermaid under my bed. My mom has been cleaning out my grandmother's house and I love when she brings home drawings or cards from when I was little. I love seeing the handwriting of those I love. Is there really anything better than finding a letter or a card in the mail?
It's hard to picture sixteen years from now - and know that there won't be such a box filled with memories from today. People, at least the people in my life, don't send notes and cards like they used to. Now we have Facebook and texts and, if it's a long drawn out affair, the old-fashioned email. But looking (and hearing) back on those memories is something special.
Back then I was thinking of moving to New York. I thought California was too far away. I was babysitting for the first time two little girls who are now out of college and all grown up. I was studying psychology and hating it. I was looking forward to the marriage of said favorite person - who now has three little ones!
Memories. In whatever shape or form or picture are so important. Lately I've been looking back, which I think is so important in moving forward. Looking back and holding tight. And to keep it going, I'm going to go write some letters and put some stamps on them.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
610 Bates Street
This is a blog by my sister, Angela Knapp. It's beautiful. She's beautiful.
"One of the things I needed to do during the three weeks I spent in Michigan over the holidays was to sort through some things at my grandmother's house. When she passed away in the spring her house was just as she had left it. My mom, aunt and uncle have been working hard to sort and box up everything to get the house ready for sale. It is a difficult job, both physically and emotionally.
Some of the items have gone to predetermined people. Grandma had "given" pieces of furniture, dolls, and dishes to us before she passed. Those were the easy things to distribute. Now it comes down to who wants what and how it will be displayed or stored. My parents have rearranged things are their house some to accommodate some larger pieces including a leather chair that belonged to my grandfather and he promised to me before his death in 1988.
When we went over to the house I was overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of stuff that can accumulate during a lifetime. Everything I looked at brought back some memory of my grandparents. It was so hard to choose one or two things that would assimilate into my life. I asked my mom what would happen to it when the family too had chosen their treasures. She looked at me sadly and I knew. It would be sold or donated to charity. I cannot describe the sadness I felt and feel about the life someone built being tossed away. It made me angry and I wanted to leave it all the way it was, untouched.
Later that night after thinking about it some I had an epiphany of sorts. The stuff doesn't matter. The important parts of my grandmother are still being used by the people who inherited them.
My mother, the oldest of three siblings, has my grandmothers amazing ability to feed people. Having 100 people for dinner doesn't faze my mother nor did it my grandmother. Food was such an important part of my childhood as we gathered around the table for every occasion to celebrate each other.
My uncle Tom, the middle child, has a love of tinkering. He loved racing his car and being around old cars, restoring and driving. My grandmother loved this too. When she died she still had 3 antique cars in her barn.
My aunt Marie, the baby of the family, got my grandmothers love of sewing. She is so talented at weaving fabric together to make beautiful quilts and a variety of other projects.
The oldest grandchild, my sister, got my grandmother's love of writing. My grandmother wrote in a journal everyday about the happenings of the day. My sister continues the tradition and is working toward being a professional writer, my grandmother was so proud of her.
Next in line by age is me. My grandmother and I shared a love of children and making sure the next generation was better than the present one. She served on a committee that restored a one-room school house and was a space for children to go on field trips to see how the children of the past learned.
My cousin Nicole is the next oldest. She and my grandmother shared a love of nature. My grandmother loved flowers and plants and always had large prosperous flower beds. She would spend hours tending to them. Nicole has this same passion and loves to plant and tend her flower beds as well. She works in a nursery where she shares her knowledge and love of nature with her customers.
John is the youngest cousin and he too has inherited wonderful things from my grandmother. He is analytical and detailed. He has a passion for things of the past and is a hard worker. My grandmother was all of these things. She loved to know how things work and ask questions. I see those same traits in John. They also share an affinity for beer :-).
While struggling with the physical belongings from the house I now see that it is what we take away from the person in our hearts not our hands. I did take some crystal that I carefully carried on the plane and a globe from an amazing trip my grandmother took to Australia. They are little things that will be physical reminders of her love and who she was, not what she had.
As we drove away from 610 Bates Street for the last time I was overcome with emotion knowing that someone else will soon occupy the house to begin making their own memories."
"One of the things I needed to do during the three weeks I spent in Michigan over the holidays was to sort through some things at my grandmother's house. When she passed away in the spring her house was just as she had left it. My mom, aunt and uncle have been working hard to sort and box up everything to get the house ready for sale. It is a difficult job, both physically and emotionally.
Some of the items have gone to predetermined people. Grandma had "given" pieces of furniture, dolls, and dishes to us before she passed. Those were the easy things to distribute. Now it comes down to who wants what and how it will be displayed or stored. My parents have rearranged things are their house some to accommodate some larger pieces including a leather chair that belonged to my grandfather and he promised to me before his death in 1988.
When we went over to the house I was overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of stuff that can accumulate during a lifetime. Everything I looked at brought back some memory of my grandparents. It was so hard to choose one or two things that would assimilate into my life. I asked my mom what would happen to it when the family too had chosen their treasures. She looked at me sadly and I knew. It would be sold or donated to charity. I cannot describe the sadness I felt and feel about the life someone built being tossed away. It made me angry and I wanted to leave it all the way it was, untouched.
Later that night after thinking about it some I had an epiphany of sorts. The stuff doesn't matter. The important parts of my grandmother are still being used by the people who inherited them.
My mother, the oldest of three siblings, has my grandmothers amazing ability to feed people. Having 100 people for dinner doesn't faze my mother nor did it my grandmother. Food was such an important part of my childhood as we gathered around the table for every occasion to celebrate each other.
My uncle Tom, the middle child, has a love of tinkering. He loved racing his car and being around old cars, restoring and driving. My grandmother loved this too. When she died she still had 3 antique cars in her barn.
My aunt Marie, the baby of the family, got my grandmothers love of sewing. She is so talented at weaving fabric together to make beautiful quilts and a variety of other projects.
The oldest grandchild, my sister, got my grandmother's love of writing. My grandmother wrote in a journal everyday about the happenings of the day. My sister continues the tradition and is working toward being a professional writer, my grandmother was so proud of her.
Next in line by age is me. My grandmother and I shared a love of children and making sure the next generation was better than the present one. She served on a committee that restored a one-room school house and was a space for children to go on field trips to see how the children of the past learned.
My cousin Nicole is the next oldest. She and my grandmother shared a love of nature. My grandmother loved flowers and plants and always had large prosperous flower beds. She would spend hours tending to them. Nicole has this same passion and loves to plant and tend her flower beds as well. She works in a nursery where she shares her knowledge and love of nature with her customers.
John is the youngest cousin and he too has inherited wonderful things from my grandmother. He is analytical and detailed. He has a passion for things of the past and is a hard worker. My grandmother was all of these things. She loved to know how things work and ask questions. I see those same traits in John. They also share an affinity for beer :-).
While struggling with the physical belongings from the house I now see that it is what we take away from the person in our hearts not our hands. I did take some crystal that I carefully carried on the plane and a globe from an amazing trip my grandmother took to Australia. They are little things that will be physical reminders of her love and who she was, not what she had.
As we drove away from 610 Bates Street for the last time I was overcome with emotion knowing that someone else will soon occupy the house to begin making their own memories."
Monday, January 09, 2012
Looking back...and looking forward...
We are nine days into the new year. 2012. At moments it is hard to wrap my brain around the fact that this is where we are. This is what I've chosen. This is where I am. In time. In my life. In physical location. In emotional space. In life.
I had a wonderful holiday vacation in Michigan, 21 days worth. I had been so looking forward to the trip, for months. We bought our tickets back in September and the anticipation grew quickly. I love Christmas. I love visiting friends and family. I love the idea of laying on my parents' big couch, sipping peppermint cream flavored coffee, reading, looking at the lit Christmas tree. It was such a needed few weeks.
It was insanely busy at times too. We arrived in Michigan Saturday night before Christmas. Sunday morning there were two church services, caroling to shut-ins, and a Christmas tea that night. It was a whirlwind that pushed right into Monday which found us cooking, baking, wrapping, shopping, cleaning, you name it, we were doing it! Thursday we hosted an open house for some 85+ friends that went on for eight hours and was a blast. Friday found us starting four days of Christmas celebrations with our three different families. Add to that decorating sugar cone trees with the grandneighbors, fighting off sickness (by the next week all four of us in our immediate family would find our way to the doctor and/or Urgent Care for bronchitis and sinus infections) and it was just a very busy time.
But through it all we laughed. We played games (Scattegories Categories and Wii Family Feud are new family faves). We shared books and stories (I read SEVEN books!!!). We ate too many cookies and not enough ham (stop by 822 North Michigan in Howell and you can have a sandwich). We spent long afternoons with friends and family. We celebrated holidays and birthdays and naptime. We did it all.
So by the time Saturday rolled around, as much as I hated to leave, and as much as I tried to pretend there weren't tears in my eyes, I was also realizing it was time to go back to life as it is most of the year. It's not that this vacation was abnormal and regular life is normal, it's just that it's time to refocus and begin the work of living every day again. Moving forward with workout routines, weight loss plans, writing samples, job applications, networking, etcetera.
So here I am. Looking forward. Looking at what this new year will bring. I'm back at my desk. I'm still feeling the affects of the illness that had a hold of me several weeks' back. I'm slowly returning to post-vacation life (just ignore the open suitcases scattered throughout the house). I've got my fingers on the keyboard again and things feel good.
So I'm looking forward, while always looking back. Always carrying in my heart every single conversation, every single hug, every single memory I've made. Now and forever. And all of it, every single second, will keep me going until it's time to go back. Because, really, there's nothing like the thrill of anticipation to get me going. Nothing at all.
I had a wonderful holiday vacation in Michigan, 21 days worth. I had been so looking forward to the trip, for months. We bought our tickets back in September and the anticipation grew quickly. I love Christmas. I love visiting friends and family. I love the idea of laying on my parents' big couch, sipping peppermint cream flavored coffee, reading, looking at the lit Christmas tree. It was such a needed few weeks.
It was insanely busy at times too. We arrived in Michigan Saturday night before Christmas. Sunday morning there were two church services, caroling to shut-ins, and a Christmas tea that night. It was a whirlwind that pushed right into Monday which found us cooking, baking, wrapping, shopping, cleaning, you name it, we were doing it! Thursday we hosted an open house for some 85+ friends that went on for eight hours and was a blast. Friday found us starting four days of Christmas celebrations with our three different families. Add to that decorating sugar cone trees with the grandneighbors, fighting off sickness (by the next week all four of us in our immediate family would find our way to the doctor and/or Urgent Care for bronchitis and sinus infections) and it was just a very busy time.
But through it all we laughed. We played games (Scattegories Categories and Wii Family Feud are new family faves). We shared books and stories (I read SEVEN books!!!). We ate too many cookies and not enough ham (stop by 822 North Michigan in Howell and you can have a sandwich). We spent long afternoons with friends and family. We celebrated holidays and birthdays and naptime. We did it all.
So by the time Saturday rolled around, as much as I hated to leave, and as much as I tried to pretend there weren't tears in my eyes, I was also realizing it was time to go back to life as it is most of the year. It's not that this vacation was abnormal and regular life is normal, it's just that it's time to refocus and begin the work of living every day again. Moving forward with workout routines, weight loss plans, writing samples, job applications, networking, etcetera.
So here I am. Looking forward. Looking at what this new year will bring. I'm back at my desk. I'm still feeling the affects of the illness that had a hold of me several weeks' back. I'm slowly returning to post-vacation life (just ignore the open suitcases scattered throughout the house). I've got my fingers on the keyboard again and things feel good.
So I'm looking forward, while always looking back. Always carrying in my heart every single conversation, every single hug, every single memory I've made. Now and forever. And all of it, every single second, will keep me going until it's time to go back. Because, really, there's nothing like the thrill of anticipation to get me going. Nothing at all.
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