Die Awake or Die Sleeping?

So, who knew that I could be so allergic to Zithromax? I took one dose and had some rashes. No big deal, right? I have so many freaking allergies, what’s one more? So I used some hydrocortisone. Yeah, yeah. Take some Benadryl, you say? I know. The issue, however, is taking one Benadryl (or 25 mg over-the-counter dose) is like taking two doses of Valium for me. I become sleepy and hazy. So, two doses (as in 50 mg), virtually makes me pass out for 12 hours. I live alone (ok, aside from my cat). So, to take Benadryl and be in oblivion for an unknown length of time is scary to me. Needless to say, no Benadryl.

But I’m a nurse, you know, so I know what’s going on. I can take care of myself. That’s right. I know what to do. . . I took a Pepcid, two, in fact. For the ant-histamine properties . . . see? I know.

Then, the rashes that started on my arms spread to my legs. And are those my eyes? I can’t really see that well. All that puffiness is getting in the way. Then the nausea. Everyone knows how completely annoying it is to feel like you’re going to throw up but can’t. Of course, there’s the embarrassing multiple shades of green that one turns into. But I’m a nurse, so I can handle it. I’m fine. I’m going to work. That’s right! If I ignore it, it will go away. What nausea? What rash? The eye puffiness? Nothing that a nap can’t fix.

When my co-worker asked me if I had collagen lip injection done, I knew I was in trouble. Duh! Okay, fine. I’ll go home, but I definitely need some Benadryl now. I guess I’ll take some. To be safe, I stayed at work where people can watch me while I go into a Benadryl coma. I had to take a shot of Zofran, too. That’s for the nausea. No, I did not give myself the shot. I’m not sadistic that way. <sigh> This sucks!

The next day when I was coherent and somewhat awake enough, I dragged myself to the doctor’s office. I am NOT going to the ER. Thank God my doctor slotted me in. I didn’t really have to say too much to her. I guess the angry red welts on my arms and the exaggerated Angelina Jolie lips and the barely visible eyeballs (yes, I should not have driven myself . . . but I’m a nurse) were indications to her that something is seriously wrong with me and probably needed something more than just Benadryl and I was beyond Pepcid. With a smile, she left the room. I think I heard her mutter something like, “Damn nurses!” and “should be in the ER.” I could be wrong, though.

She came back with Prednisone pills (hey, I can’t get those over-the-counter) and an epinephrine shot (also not available over-the-counter). This, she says, should help. I’m thinking, wow! My doctor is an angel. Most doctors would have shuttled me to the ER by now. So, I happily took my pills and lifted an arm for the injection. Yay! All will be well. . . The doctor says, “I’ll be back. We’ll wait for a little bit and see what happens.” Cool!

All of a sudden, I’m sweating and dizzy. Feeling nauseated again. WTF!!! (I didn’t say that out loud, though, but I was sure thinking it). Because I’m a nurse, you know, so I get up and reach for the pulse oximetry (because it takes your pulse. See? I know). Uhh! Hmmm . . . I could be wrong, of course, but a heart rate of 160 is a bad thing, isn’t it? My years of nursing experience tell me that epinephrine has a short half-life so it should go away soon, right? Damn! I feel crappy, though. Where is the damn nurse buzzer when you need one? Do I dare check a blood pressure? Do I get up and find help? Why does that door look like it’s a mile away? Why is my voice box not working? Do I call out ‘help!’ or do I yell ‘fire!’ I can’t remember. Why does the floor look like it’s melting? This sucks!!!

I think an eternity passed by and I was sent to heaven because I was looking at an angel. Oh, no, wait. It’s my doctor. I grinned. I think I said, ‘hi’. She looked a bit anemic all of a sudden. What happened to her? I don’t remember her being this pale earlier. I fell asleep, I think, I said. (Note: I was somehow transported from the chair to the examining table. How cool is that?) She looked at me; she looked at the pulse oximetry. It was traitorously beeping my heart rate at 120 something. Oh that, I said. Hey, it’s better. It was 160 something earlier. She didn’t looked relieved whatsoever. I know that look. It’s the ‘I’m calling 911’ look. Oh, no, you don’t. Angel or no angel. I am NOT going to the ER. So, I say, no, no, I feel better, really. See? I grinned. She did not look convinced. She had some nurse/tech/slave/demonette take my blood pressure. I was so freaking anxious (I was freaking, yes, I was) that my blood pressure would be low and she would be compelled to call the paramedics. My anxiety, however, actually helped me. My blood pressure was, while not great, was acceptable enough that my doctor looked somewhat convinced of my ‘I’m okay’ grin.

Another eternity passed, my heart rate slowed down enough, and my legs didn’t feel like jelly and I was allowed to drive home. Of course, I had a bagful of medications to take. More damn Benadryl! Great! I hope my cat feels like baby-sitting. This sucks!!!

So, I finally understand all the patients I have seen who felt that they are so unique in the world that ‘nothing like this ever happens to me.’ You know, it must be human nature. You sort of know that things happen in the world, just NOT to YOU. Know what I mean? This situation, for instance. I know people have allergic reactions to medications, right? I know that epinephrine shots for allergies can cause the heart rate to increase. I know this. I know it happens to some people. Prior to this, I would have bet that will never happen to me. That’s right! Because bad things like that happen, yes, but to OTHER people.

Anyway, I get home and am faced with the same dilemma. Supposed to take Benadryl every 6 hours, but I’ll be in a coma, then what? I still feel like crap and I’m feeling pretty grumpy. Is there a pill for feeling like crap? Now what? So, I have two choices. Option one: Take the Benadryl and be in a world of oblivion and haze, risk over-sedation, and slowly asphyxiating to death. Option two: not take the Benadryl, risk return of itchy, annoying hives, vision disturbances from eyes becoming swollen shut, lips becoming clown lips, and maybe tongue swelling, throat closing, and be painfully aware of impending death. Hmm . . . don’t you hate having choices sometimes? It’s so hard. It’s almost as bad as choosing from a menu at a restaurant you have never been before. This sucks!!!

My guardian angel comes to the rescue!!! One of the girls I met called to see if I wanted to go to a party. It was Friday night, after all. Of course, I gracefully declined since no amount of makeup was going to do me justice right then. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself (hey, I had a lot happen to me, okay!?), so I told her what was going on. And then my faith in the goodness of the world was strengthened once more when she offered to come get me and have me stay at her house so someone can be around when I take my coma pills. She and her brother were coming over to pick me up and take me to their house. It was a bit awkward. I don’t really know her that well and I never even met her brother.

More choices. Do I just die or do I embarrass myself and be a drooling imbecile in front of people I don’t really know and have them take care of me? She was so insistent, though, and I had no fight left in me. I wanted to object, but I felt crappy enough to agree. Okay, sorry, Death.

When they got to my place, I embarrassingly told them I couldn’t go because I accidentally gave my cat her medication twice and I wasn’t sure how that was going to affect her. I needed to make sure she was okay. Next thing I know, I was packed, the cat was packed, and we were in the car heading towards BFE. I probably would have enjoyed the drive except the world looked like it lost its shape and color somehow. . .

So, for the next two and a half days, I spent it at my friend’s house oscillating between waking and dreaming. I was so embarrassed that I kept trying to get up, I don’t know, to help, I guess. With what, I wasn’t really sure. I was in a strange house in altered consciousness. Thank goodness for the innate kindness of some humans. I’m sure I was drooling on myself and, I’m not even sure if I ate anything. I think I would rather be awake and be painfully aware of impending death than this. Complete loss of, not only my physical body, but my thoughts and words, as well. The crazy thing is, we are talking Benadryl here. It’s not like I’ve been taking some sedative or narcotic, not even a muscle freaking relaxant to make me feel this drugged. Three days of my life went by while I dreamt. Even while awake, I felt like I was in a dream. It took a day for my brain to emerge from its fog. I think it is still partially submersed in unconsciousness.

I am home now. I’m enjoying the calm, quiet, clear night sky outside on my balcony, feeling painfully homesick.

Where are the people who love me? Sooo far away . . .