My Combobulated Has Been Dissed
Yes, I am somewhat discombobulated. By which I mean thrown for several loops, knocked for six, disconcerted, and generally twitterpated.
This is what happens when you spend an evening at the emergency room discovering the joys of a whole new type of allergy you’ve never met before. Hello food allergies, goodbye happy careless eating and all that fun stuff.
I’m no stranger to seasonal allergies where pollen invades the sinuses and tries to turn them into a kind of biological version of pack ice all the way down (we won’t go into details about the itchy eyes and on the bad days the itch inside the ear canal), but I’ve never had problems with food before.
Until the Husband tried some jackfruit at the supermarket, liked it, and brought some home for both of us to try.
I liked it too – rather mild, slightly sweet, with a texture that reminded me a bit of pineapple only a bit waxier and not nearly as prone to dripping juice anywhere.
Then the back of my mouth and tongue started to itch. Followed by what felt like a sore throat but not quite. At that point I put the fruit away, not that I’d eaten much of it, and started drinking more water in the hope that I’d flush whatever the heck was going on out of my system.
The hope lasted until breathing started to be difficult, right alongside what felt like my lungs tightening and a seriously nasty case of indigestion and/or heartburn. At its worst I was wondering why some bastard tried to set my esophagus on fire. And how the heck they got in there to start the bloody fire in the first place.
That was about when I suggested to the Husband that a visit to the local emergency room was in order.
We got there, I got the fast-lane version of triage (they do not screw around when you arrive with breathing issues), got several vials of blood taken and a battery of other tests along with double antihistamine by IV (Pepcid and Benadryl, if you’re wondering. Apparently they hit different histamine receptors) along with a steroid. By the time they let me out I was half asleep (Benadryl, the knockout drug) and three-quarters zombie.
I’m still on the prescriptions they gave me to make sure I don’t have another attack – the steroid is on a tapering dose – and tomorrow (as I write, which is actually today when this post goes live) I’m seeing my regular doctor for the mandated follow up to check for any other issues. The two days of zombified Kate that followed the ER visit are best left undescribed, not least because they’re boring.
So much for my plans. Between the Attack of the Jackfruit and the cats taking up competitive power puking (I think Bugger-cat might be winning on surface area and splash effect alone) nothing I’d intended to do got done.