As soon as I saw today’s prompt, I was like oh no.  Here we go.

Do I even dare write about my horrendous allergies?  The last time I was tested for anything, I nearly went into anaphylactic shock.  You know it’s bad when a Cleveland Clinic allergy specialist tells you “No more allergy testing.  It’s too dangerous”.

It was scary because 1. I take beta blockers for my heart, and epinephrine probably will not work if I need it, and 2. IF the epinephrine worked, it might give me a heart attack.  My surgeon told me it’s too risky for me to have any kind of adrenaline.  Not even for dental work.  Which really sucks, because when I had a tooth pulled a few years ago, it took 9 shots of regular novocaine.

Being allergic is no laughing matter.  I think it would probably be best for me to just see a nutritionist, give them a list of my allergies, and ask them to make up a diet for me.  But since allergies are an autoimmune thing, I will most likely die allergic to everything.  That’s the nature of allergies.  Or at least that’s what a specialist from Toronto told me.

Suppose I limit myself to 10 foods, and only eat those 10 foods.  I will become allergic to them.

Sometimes I wonder how much of a role allergies play in other disorders.  Since the allergic response is inflammation, how much damage can inflammation cause to other organs, our bones, our nervous system, our arteries, etc.? I research a lot of crap on the internet.  Too much for my own mental health.  But this is one area I’m afraid to research.

Sometimes ignorance truly is bliss.  It’s enough I need to mind my heart health.  If I’m doomed to die from some other crap, I don’t want to know.  Leave me alone and let me enjoy what little is left for me to enjoy.  I can’t smoke.  Drinking is bad for my liver because of the multiple cholesterol meds I’m on, and sitting is the new smoking.  I’m fooked!

Meanwhile, I’ll do that weird psychological thing, and turn the entire situation into a joke.  I’ll use it as an excuse.  “I can’t leave the house.  I’m allergic to air.” or “I’d LOVE to go walking with you, but I’m allergic to the sun.” or “Sorry, I can’t clean the house.  The dust will put me in the hospital.” And finally “I can’t eat that.  It’ll kill me.”   Oh yeah, did I mention that most HEALTHY foods are the enemy?  My throat will close if I eat the wrong good things.

I’m not really allergic to air.  I’m just allergic to about 50 different trees, all grass, dust, all mold, cats, feathers, dust mites, ragweed, cottonwood, mustard plant, queen Ann’s lace, pig weed, roses, corn, wheat, soy, milk, eggs, legumes, banana, melon, cucumber, oranges, grapefruit, kiwi, asparagus, eggplant, peanuts, walnuts, sesame, adhesives, wool, and nylon.

Oops.  I did the list anyways.  I have the actual list from the hospital buried away in my file cabinet.  There are about 50 other things I forgot.

Are plastic bubbles covered by insurance companies?


No, Sir. I Didn’t Like It

Anxiety be damned.

It hasn’t happened in quite a long time. It isn’t pretty when it happens. Today’s episode began with an onslaught of the unusual – instant pounding heart, audible heartbeat, and an outrageous blood pressure reading. I was supposed to go out. But now I feel like the life has been sucked out of my body – like an egg being cracked, and its innards scrambled into oblivion.

Usually, when I’m transitioning between panic and less panic, I resort to funny videos, such as the one above. It’s a coping mechanism. A useful one, since I’m currently not on any type of anxiety/depression meds. I consider myself to be doing fairly well, given that fact. Most people would snap by now. Me, I just sit in a corner, shaking and crying until it subsides.

My blog and music are my escape. Sometimes, when music isn’t a friendly option for some people within the household, writing is truly the only means by which I can curb whatever is going on. I tried coloring for about a year, but that kind of lost its effectiveness. Now it’s just a nice little hobby.

As with depression, I know exercise is an extremely important management tool. But for some people, leaving the house is a chore in itself, often the source of their anxiety. It’s not always as simple as overcoming a phobia of driving, or other, more manageable triggers.

I suppose things like bad sleeping and eating habits could be part of the bigger picture. It’s like a vicious cycle. Or maybe a domino effect? Either way, it’s pretty crappy, and nearly impossible to overcome on your own without any type of help.

Too bad our rotten health care system leaves the average schmuck like me fleeced and flapping in the wind.

Am I Rude and Insensitive?

I’ve recently come under some harsh comments in response to my comments on various news articles.  I’ve been told I’m rude and insensitive.

The last time I checked, raising awareness by talking about my own health experiences isn’t rude.

Example 1: I made a comment on the sudden passing of a young man who passed away from a heart attack. I made a general comment about how ‘you’re never too young for things like heart disease’.  I continued by sharing my own experiences with heart disease.  How is that ‘getting on my soapbox’?

Example 2: Another comment was about the incorrect uses of beauty products, and how they don’t belong anywhere near the female genitalia.  I understand things are causing cancer, and people suffer and lose their lives to this awful disease.  But doesn’t it make sense to NOT USE anything scented near or IN any bodily orifice? They’re chemicals for crying out loud!  And how is that statement insensitive and uncalled for (NASTY?)???

I’m only trying to make a point.  An honest and frank one.  I’m not an asshole.

I’ve had my fair share of losses, and have almost died had it not been for an emergency quadruple coronary bypass surgery.   I’m about as compassionate and sensitive as a person can get.

End of discussion.