I’ve talked before about my miserable meat allergy. Lately it has seemed to be getting better and I started to let my guard down. Last night it attacked in full force, and if I’d thought I could make it to the ER without shitting my pants, I would’ve gone.
We ate dinner at a family restaurant where we’ve eaten tons of times before. I ordered mashed potatoes and gravy. I’m thinking the gravy was the culprit – maybe cooked with sausage or bacon grease. Who knows.
Anyway, we weren’t even home yet before my stomach starting cramping horribly. I was squirming all over the seat, holding my poor belly, and yelling at my husband to hurry up.
He very calmly pointed out that he was going as fast as he could and I very irately pointed out that that wasn’t nearly fast enough. I was dying, HELLO?
We made it to my grandma’s house, which is only about a mile from my own, when I couldn’t wait any longer. I told him to pull over and let me out. I ran barefooted into the house and curled up in a ball of misery on her bathroom floor. I’m sure they thought I was crazy.
My mom showed up and I didn’t even care that she barged in on me in the bathroom, because I just knew the pain was going to kill me.
After throwing up and doing some other disgusting business, the pain kept on. Then I turned bright red from my head to my toes. My skin burned like I was on fire and anywhere I was touched hurt. It was like all my nerve endings were on the outside of my skin. I was freezing, but couldn’t stand for anything to touch me. I was swelling up, but not having trouble breathing. I took Benadryl and prayed and cried and prayed.
You know something bad is happening when you find yourself laying naked on the bathroom floor crying and it’s not even your bathroom.
I comforted myself by telling a story in my head of how heroic I was in overcoming this deadly allergy and the medal I would get once I survived. But then my daydream took a turn for the worse because they gave my medal to someone named Tracy. It was bullshit. It was also my daydream, so I don’t even know how that happened. That bitch Tracy needs to get her own fantasy.
So I guess that kind of gives you an idea of my state of mind during an allergic reaction. I rip all my clothes off and moan and have delusions. Good thing we at least made it to my grandma’s, because doing all that in the restaurant might have been awkward.
Do you have any weird allergies? When you’re really sick, do you make up stories to entertain yourself? Do you know this Tracy?
We Don't Chew Glass 