Two years ago, on this date, I had what has been the most devastating time of my life. At about 8:45 in the evening, I was sitting at the computer (no surprise) and realized that I was feeling really itchy. I figured I would take my bra off to lessen constrictions. But being the geek that I am, I waited for several more minutes, while the discomfort grew. Finally, I went to the bedroom to remove my bra and any other constricting clothing. I noticed a red patch when I lifted my left arm, so went into the bathroom to see what it was, thinking that the bra must be popping a wire. This happens to underwire bras after a while when the wire works through the material. To my amazement and dismay, I saw a seriously large patch of red hives under my arm. Peering closer, I realized that I could see the hives appearing in front of my eyes. To see an area of skin go from flesh color to bright red and to watch it swell into puffy patches, that is something I never want to see again. I checked my breathing, which was a bit raspy. The hives were spreading over my chest and down my arms, up my throat, and were all the way to my waist by the time I checked there.
Trying to remain calm, I went to the phone to call the 24 hour nursing service that my insurance says will give advice. I had to argue with the nurse that I indeed was eligible for the service, although she said she couldn't find my name or number. I remember saying something to the effect of: "well, how did I get your number if I don't have the right to call you? It is here on the magnet that my insurance sent me." Living alone, I knew I needed to do something quickly for I realized my breathing was becoming labored. I finally hung up on her, as she was debating with herself as to whether she could tell me anything. All I asked was if she thought I should go to the hospital. Finally, I decided that I needed to drive myself the mile to the hospital, for I might not be able to make it much longer. By that time, I figured that if I waited to go next door for a neighbor, it would be about 10 minutes before I got to the hospital. Now, I realize it was crazy to drive myself, with some breathing issues. I knew I was having some kind of allergic reaction. All I could think was to get there as quickly as possible, as the hives continued to grow and spread. I was beginning to panic a bit, but tried to keep as calm as possible because anxiety worsens breathing problems.
Once I entered the ER, I must have seemed quite calm and not in need of immediate help, for I sat for a while while they started paperwork. When I finally had had enough, I wheezed out a request for them to look at my arm. I peeled back my sleeve and when they saw the rapidly moving hives, I was rushed on into the triage room. I remember being weighed, asked some questions, and the oxymeter placed on my finger. All was calm and smooth....until they saw the oxygen levels. Boy, I was placed on a gurney and set up in a room so quickly! They helped me remove my clothing and I saw that I was solid hives from the neck down to my knees. Oh and they itched!
I was given a shot of benedryl, started on a breathing procedure, and was checked on every minute or so. I'm not all that clear about what all happened, but by 12:15, they said I could go home. My body still had all the hives, but they were not growing any now. Amazingly, nobody asked if I had a way to get home or if someone had come with me. So I got dressed, go the prescription for some meds, and was told to go home. Ok, I was worn out and did not go to the pharmacy at that time. Actually, I didn't realize there was a 24 hour pharmacy near my house.
Sunday I stayed still most of the day, worn out. The itching did not stop. My throat was sore by this time, and I was having trouble drinking even water. I don't know if I ate anything, I think I tried to sip some bouillion. Monday, I called work and said I would not be in. I called my doctor at 9, told her what had happened, and began to wheeze again. She told me to get someone to take me to the hospital. My neighbors were gone, so I called work and asked if anyone could come help me. A great person came from work, took me to the hospital, dropped me off at the ER, went back to work, and then later that day came to take me home. I owe her and her husband so much for the comfort they brought during the near future.
I tottered into the ER, where they took one look at me and took me right to triage. There they barely even took my pulse before rushing me to a bed. (Later I learned that my pulse was at 236 beats per minute.) I had IV's attached, and all kinds of tests, but I can't remember much, for while I could talk fairly coherently, I thought, I was so worn out and out of it.... Anyway, I woke up several times during the day, usually when someone came in to talk to me. I think I sounded bright, but who knows. By 2, they said I could go home. Well, I must have been pretty good at talking, but I was so weak! I fell twice while getting dressed, scaring the poor lady in the next bed. No, I am pretty sure I didn't give her the heart attack, she had had one earlier that day. She was ready to call for the nurses, but I said I was fine. ((Ok, I ended up with some doozy of bruises and sore muscles.)) After I was dressed, I just walked out of the hospital. My friend was there to take me home.
That was the beginning of three weeks where I was too weak to be able to go to work. The hives would not go away, I was too weak to drive myself to my doctor's, and was too proud/stubborn to ask any of my friends to drive me there. I'll gloss over the three weeks, but let me say this: I didn't eat much, because I had difficulty swallowing. I found I had lost 20 pounds at the end of the three weeks.
Many many tests followed as we attempted to figure out what I had reacted to. Oh, and I was left with hypergraphic skin. Meaning that just a simple touch or whisper of a scratch on my skin left a huge red welt. I was unable to wear underclothes for the time I was at home . I do remember my boyfriend one weekend playing tic/tac/toe on my back with his finger, and being amazed at how quickly the responses came on the skin.
The outcome of this all? I had anaphalactoid shock, etiology unknown. I am not allergic to anything more than I was before. I suspect that latex may have had an influence. Anyway, I still have hypergraphic skin, which results in hives at different times of the year. I'm finally, two years later, back to where my strength was before this incident. I have energy again.
I survived. I am a winner! And I hope never to experience this again!