So, I'm allergic to something that's supposed to be good for me

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.