I know I have not posted in a while I have been dealing with things way above my maturity level. It was like some “very powerful episode of Blossom” or some shit. As a result I wasn’t feeling very funny. But I am doing better now.
In my quest to visit every kind of specialist in existence, I went to see an allergist. My hives were worrying as was my constant stomach ache. I figured I could finally sort out what I was allergic to and never have to worry about my throat closing down with hives again.
I turns out my allergist’s husband worked with my cardiologist. My worlds were colliding! The allergist was the sweetest doctor I have ever met.
And I have had amazing luck with doctors ever since I told my OB/GYN she could shove it up her stupid ass when she told me I was too young to make a permanent birth control decision. Apparently, 27 is too young to NOT have kids but she had her first baby at 23. Go figure.
The way the chemical patch tests works is they draw all over your back with a Sharpie. It is almost unbearably ticklish. I’m not even ticklish and I was squirming and giggling. Then they put three long stickers on your back and tape you up like some modern day mummy.
Once again, as with the holter monitor, you can’t bathe for 24-48 hours. It’s really not my fault I smell bad sometimes. I can’t bathe like half the time.
After 48 hours of marinating in my own funk, I went back to get things removed and resolved once and for all. I found out what I am allergic to, basically life.
And then the allergist decided to do a food allergy test. She thought it might help figure out why I have a stomach ache 85% of the time. Most of my family has lactose intolerance, gluten intolerance, and eat very little meat. I however, having decided I already have one foot in the grave, eat whatever the fuck I want to whenever I want to.
The way they do a food allergy test is to lightly scratch the inside of your forearm and then rub the scratch with various food extracts. If the scratch gets inflamed, you are allergic or sensitive to that food.
She scratched my arm five times. Legumes, soy, dairy, gluten and who knows what the fifth one was. I assumed corn since it is in everything in the world these days.
She left the room for about 10 minutes and I looked at my arm, fascinated to see what was going to happen. First, the one for legumes began to get red. And inflamed. It got raised and angry looking. It was like I had a giant hive on my forearm.
I was really upset. I didn’t want to be allergic to legumes. Beans and peanuts are two of my favorite things. That meant no more peanut butter, or peanut butter cups, or boiled peanuts. No more black bean soup, or southwestern egg rolls, or refried bean burritos.
NO! I didn’t want to live in the tragic new world. I always said I was one of those people that wanted to know. I wanted the truth no matter how sad or painful it was. And now, I was regretting that decision.
As I sat there, settling down into a funk of delicious food deprived-ness, I saw the other scratches on my arms get inflamed. They all got swollen and red, it looked like I had gotten into some poison ivy (which I am, interestingly, not allergic to).
I was stunned now. If this was true, I was allergic to everything she had tested me for. What did that mean for my life? No legumes, no dairy, no soy, no gluten, no whatever that fifth thing was. What the fuck was I going to eat? Fruit and vegetables? No way. I would rather feel shitty all the time. I would rather be dead.
The nurse came back in and I thrust my forearm into her kind face. I was like some deranged person on the street. Waving my arms in her unsuspecting face.
“Look at it! What does it mean?” It was more conspicuous than a Death Eater with the Dark Mark tattoo.
“Oh dear.” She responded. She sat me down.
“And what is this fifth thing? What else am I allergic to?!” I was getting worked up and upset. I couldn’t handle this many new health issues. I just couldn’t.
I was stunned. I was allergic to WATER?! That was the end of it. I wasn’t meant to live. Evolution had fucked up. How was I going to avoid water?
She laughed at the look on my face. “We use it as a control. Let me see your other arm.”
She took a pen lid and scratched my arm. Within five minutes it became red and inflamed, like the other side was.
“You have dermatographia.”
“I do?” It may not surprise some of you that I already knew what that was. “How? Why?”
“This proves it.” She showed me the non-test arm.
“Is it dangerous?”
“No, it just means I can’t test you for food allergies. You should keep a food journal and try the elimination diet to see what upsets your stomach.”
I said I would. But of course, I didn’t. I already knew what upset my stomach. Eating. Especially if I ate more than a serving or two of dairy or gluten in one day.
And instead of finding out all the foods I should avoid, I found out that I have a skin condition that I never realized I had.