Allergic Reaction - 6/9

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Brian
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Allergic Reaction - 6/9

Postby Brian » Tue Jun 09, 2009 8:39 am


Brian
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Allergic Reaction - 6/9

Postby Brian » Tue Jun 09, 2009 8:39 am

You find out that you are highly allergic to something you love. Do you give it up (no matter how hard it is) or not (and deal with the consequences of the allergy)?

Please limit your response to 500 words or fewer.

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Re: Allergic Reaction - 6/9

Postby BingoBill » Wed Jun 10, 2009 5:22 am

I know it's long....

Reddish hives itched and burned in steady cadence to the beat of my heart. It felt like I was dying. I was dizzy from the medication and frightened even though the nurse came by every few minutes and offered ice chips to suck on and encouraging words.
“Your temperature is going down,” she took the thermometer from my ear. “We might roll you over to x-ray in about an hour.” She liked to explain procedures before they happened. I liked that.
“Did I have a stroke?” I didn’t know how to ask about my health, every answer was a potential death sentence and no one could explain what happened to me this morning.
She took my hand and smiled, “We don’t know what happened yet. You don’t have symptoms of a stroke, your reactions and speech do not appear affected and your baseline blood pressure and health history mentions no strokes or emboli. Why do you think it might be a stroke?”
I retold the story; I was eating my morning breakfast, coffee and a quick donut before heading out the door when I began to feel light headed and dizzy. There was a tingling in my arm that spread to the side of my body and I became frightened. It went away after about ten minutes but my wife had called 911.
“I can see that would be very frightening,” she attached a blood pressure cuff as she talked. “But the hives and itching, that’s not normally seen in transient ischemic attacks. Do you have any allergies? Any family history of allergic reactions to shell fish, bee stings or insecticides?”
I had no known allergies but my uncle; he was once hospitalized during a conference in Florida when he ate something at the continental breakfast.
“What did he eat?” she was all business as a pad of paper appeared from a side pocket.
Uncle Joey was a Vice President for a lumber distribution company, really a trucking company that specialized in building materials. He spent most of his time in front of a computer screen and ate a constant smorgasbord of junk foods, McDonalds and takeout pizza. He said he broke out in hives when he ate something, a common food, but I couldn’t remember what…
“We can ask your wife for his number. She’s in the waiting room. Do I have your permission to talk about your attack with your uncle to compare symptoms?”
“Yes.”
She left me alone with my thoughts and the steady background hum of the IV pump. I tried to decipher the small screen on the infuser but only figured out that I was receiving 100 milliliters an hour of whatever was in the plastic bag. On my finger was a plastic clamp which leads to another machine which showed my heartbeat and something labeled POX, whatever that was? The nurse didn’t seem concerned about the numbers so neither was I.
“Mr. Johansson? I’m Dr. Adelman, a resident at the hospital. I just got off the phone with your uncle and we may have an answer to what happened this morning.” He was smiling and relaxed. “Some families have distinct genetic traits which are passed down generation to generation, a family tree of inherited characteristics that sometimes skip a generation or individual.”
I had taken biology in college and knew what genes were but didn’t interrupt.
“We need to run a few tests but it appears you might have a rare but dangerous food allergy. It’s not unknown but does seem to run in families.”
He pulled a wheeled stool up to side of my bed and sat down. “What did you have for breakfast this morning?” he asked.
“Coffee and a donut. I know it’s not healthy but I was running late and was going to burn off the calories at the gym.”
“What kind of donut?” the doctor asked.
“It was…” What was it? Couldn’t remember…”it was one of those Krispy Kreme one’s, you know, from the shops that were burning down all over town last month.”
“Was it,” an impish grin appeared, “chocolate?”
I sat in stunned silence. My uncle loved to eat but lamented that his favorite food was out of his reach. I had liked sweets preferring fruit and calorie bars but I was running late and ….
The calm, healing aura of the hospital ER was shattered with a cry of, “CHOCOLATE!!”

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Re: Allergic Reaction - 6/9

Postby BingoBill » Wed Jun 10, 2009 5:22 am

I know it's long....

Reddish hives itched and burned in steady cadence to the beat of my heart. It felt like I was dying. I was dizzy from the medication and frightened even though the nurse came by every few minutes and offered ice chips to suck on and encouraging words.
“Your temperature is going down,” she took the thermometer from my ear. “We might roll you over to x-ray in about an hour.” She liked to explain procedures before they happened. I liked that.
“Did I have a stroke?” I didn’t know how to ask about my health, every answer was a potential death sentence and no one could explain what happened to me this morning.
She took my hand and smiled, “We don’t know what happened yet. You don’t have symptoms of a stroke, your reactions and speech do not appear affected and your baseline blood pressure and health history mentions no strokes or emboli. Why do you think it might be a stroke?”
I retold the story; I was eating my morning breakfast, coffee and a quick donut before heading out the door when I began to feel light headed and dizzy. There was a tingling in my arm that spread to the side of my body and I became frightened. It went away after about ten minutes but my wife had called 911.
“I can see that would be very frightening,” she attached a blood pressure cuff as she talked. “But the hives and itching, that’s not normally seen in transient ischemic attacks. Do you have any allergies? Any family history of allergic reactions to shell fish, bee stings or insecticides?”
I had no known allergies but my uncle; he was once hospitalized during a conference in Florida when he ate something at the continental breakfast.
“What did he eat?” she was all business as a pad of paper appeared from a side pocket.
Uncle Joey was a Vice President for a lumber distribution company, really a trucking company that specialized in building materials. He spent most of his time in front of a computer screen and ate a constant smorgasbord of junk foods, McDonalds and takeout pizza. He said he broke out in hives when he ate something, a common food, but I couldn’t remember what…
“We can ask your wife for his number. She’s in the waiting room. Do I have your permission to talk about your attack with your uncle to compare symptoms?”
“Yes.”
She left me alone with my thoughts and the steady background hum of the IV pump. I tried to decipher the small screen on the infuser but only figured out that I was receiving 100 milliliters an hour of whatever was in the plastic bag. On my finger was a plastic clamp which leads to another machine which showed my heartbeat and something labeled POX, whatever that was? The nurse didn’t seem concerned about the numbers so neither was I.
“Mr. Johansson? I’m Dr. Adelman, a resident at the hospital. I just got off the phone with your uncle and we may have an answer to what happened this morning.” He was smiling and relaxed. “Some families have distinct genetic traits which are passed down generation to generation, a family tree of inherited characteristics that sometimes skip a generation or individual.”
I had taken biology in college and knew what genes were but didn’t interrupt.
“We need to run a few tests but it appears you might have a rare but dangerous food allergy. It’s not unknown but does seem to run in families.”
He pulled a wheeled stool up to side of my bed and sat down. “What did you have for breakfast this morning?” he asked.
“Coffee and a donut. I know it’s not healthy but I was running late and was going to burn off the calories at the gym.”
“What kind of donut?” the doctor asked.
“It was…” What was it? Couldn’t remember…”it was one of those Krispy Kreme one’s, you know, from the shops that were burning down all over town last month.”
“Was it,” an impish grin appeared, “chocolate?”
I sat in stunned silence. My uncle loved to eat but lamented that his favorite food was out of his reach. I had liked sweets preferring fruit and calorie bars but I was running late and ….
The calm, healing aura of the hospital ER was shattered with a cry of, “CHOCOLATE!!”

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RE: Allergic Reaction - 6/9

Postby Colakar » Wed Jun 10, 2009 5:31 am

“I don’t think the injections of fetal brain cells are working any more, Dr.Schwarzkopf. It’s getting harder for me to focus on my work, and I keep getting surges of terrible head aches” said Mr. Garbar, facing the young doctor and staring mid air.
Mr. Garbar’s lips were dry, his skin pale and eyes red. Patches of hair were missing from his head.
“The stem cells have started developing into fatty tissue instead of neurons. This in turn leads to inflammations similar to a hang over” said Dr.Schwarzkopf, showing a scan of Mr. Garbar’s brain “It looks like we have exhausted that option for you. The same was seen in President Brezhnev and the other leaders of the Soviet Union. The old medical records describe it as a kind of allergy.” Dr.Schwarzkopf pointed at Russian handwritten notes in an old binder.
“But my work, doctor. I have to finish my work before my body withers away. I’m so close. You’ve seen my work. It worked beautifully on the rats. They had awareness for almost two weeks.”
“We can try to inject cells that are more mature - cells already in the process of turning into neurons. You need cells from young children, but the donors must be a close ethnic match to yourself. If not, your body will reject them in spite of all my suppression of your immune system.”
Mr. Garbar’s tired eyes focused on the doctor. “Do you have any nurses on your ‘payroll’ at Children’s Memorial Hospital?” he asked the doctor as he made quotation marks with his fingers for the word ‘payroll’.
“I do. But I’m not sure if it will be of any help. Making the nurses extract and steal cells from aborted fetuses was one thing. Pretty much any fetus would do. Now we need recently deceased children with specific genes” the doctor said while closing the binder with the Russian medical records.
“There is a community of Amish outcasts near that hospital. Several of them could be potential donors. I’ll keep an eye on their kids. You just have a nurse ready when we have an opportunity” said Mr. Garbar . He stood up and reached for the door. “There is a house for rent in that community. I got to go. I got to make sure I get it” he continued.
“Mr. Garbar” said Dr.Schwarzkopf, looking over his glasses “I want us to remain somewhat within the law.”
“It’s not illegal to get some help from Destiny” said Mr. Garbar
“Isn’t Destiny the name of your cat - your very useful cat?” asked Dr.Schwarzkopf.
Mr. Garbar’s lip cracked and started bleeding as he smiled “You’ll get the Nobel’s Prize, the fame and all the patents doctor. I’ll get the cure. And imagine what I can do for you when we are all done.” He opened the door and went outside. He took a deep breath. The air was fresh. Spring was over.

Colakar
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RE: Allergic Reaction - 6/9

Postby Colakar » Wed Jun 10, 2009 5:31 am

“I don’t think the injections of fetal brain cells are working any more, Dr.Schwarzkopf. It’s getting harder for me to focus on my work, and I keep getting surges of terrible head aches” said Mr. Garbar, facing the young doctor and staring mid air.
Mr. Garbar’s lips were dry, his skin pale and eyes red. Patches of hair were missing from his head.
“The stem cells have started developing into fatty tissue instead of neurons. This in turn leads to inflammations similar to a hang over” said Dr.Schwarzkopf, showing a scan of Mr. Garbar’s brain “It looks like we have exhausted that option for you. The same was seen in President Brezhnev and the other leaders of the Soviet Union. The old medical records describe it as a kind of allergy.” Dr.Schwarzkopf pointed at Russian handwritten notes in an old binder.
“But my work, doctor. I have to finish my work before my body withers away. I’m so close. You’ve seen my work. It worked beautifully on the rats. They had awareness for almost two weeks.”
“We can try to inject cells that are more mature - cells already in the process of turning into neurons. You need cells from young children, but the donors must be a close ethnic match to yourself. If not, your body will reject them in spite of all my suppression of your immune system.”
Mr. Garbar’s tired eyes focused on the doctor. “Do you have any nurses on your ‘payroll’ at Children’s Memorial Hospital?” he asked the doctor as he made quotation marks with his fingers for the word ‘payroll’.
“I do. But I’m not sure if it will be of any help. Making the nurses extract and steal cells from aborted fetuses was one thing. Pretty much any fetus would do. Now we need recently deceased children with specific genes” the doctor said while closing the binder with the Russian medical records.
“There is a community of Amish outcasts near that hospital. Several of them could be potential donors. I’ll keep an eye on their kids. You just have a nurse ready when we have an opportunity” said Mr. Garbar . He stood up and reached for the door. “There is a house for rent in that community. I got to go. I got to make sure I get it” he continued.
“Mr. Garbar” said Dr.Schwarzkopf, looking over his glasses “I want us to remain somewhat within the law.”
“It’s not illegal to get some help from Destiny” said Mr. Garbar
“Isn’t Destiny the name of your cat - your very useful cat?” asked Dr.Schwarzkopf.
Mr. Garbar’s lip cracked and started bleeding as he smiled “You’ll get the Nobel’s Prize, the fame and all the patents doctor. I’ll get the cure. And imagine what I can do for you when we are all done.” He opened the door and went outside. He took a deep breath. The air was fresh. Spring was over.

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RE: Allergic Reaction - 6/9

Postby bookworminsomnia » Wed Jun 10, 2009 12:07 pm

Dessert time, my favorite time of the day! The dessert for that night was my ultimate favorite: Brithday Cake by Mayfield. Of course it's hard to have a favorite in a topic of so many: Vanilla, Strawberry, Chocolate,and oh so good, Rocky Road. Gulping down what I was sure to be the first bite of many, when a strange sensation raptured through my throat, then my entire body. "Oh my god!" was all that managed to come out before racing for the restroom to puke my guts out.
The next day, at an urgent doctor's appointment, he urged me that I would be fine as long as I avoided dairy products all together. I could handle not having cheese and yogurt, but no ice cream? How could I live? I went home feeling dreary, but determined. Experiencing with ice cream to build up a tolerance, only to upchuck the rest. On the edge of defeat, I tried my last recipe: a simple, root beer float. Upon finishing it, I waited for the nauseating sickness to come. But none came. All through the night, my stomach silent, my mouth closed. The next morning, I discovered that I had not a cure, but a treatment for my sickness. Every drop of ice cream I ingested could be handled if I had soda to acid it out. There for the rest of my days, I lived on as a dairy queen, a soda dairy queen, but a dairy queen nonetheless.

bookworminsomnia
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RE: Allergic Reaction - 6/9

Postby bookworminsomnia » Wed Jun 10, 2009 12:07 pm

Dessert time, my favorite time of the day! The dessert for that night was my ultimate favorite: Brithday Cake by Mayfield. Of course it's hard to have a favorite in a topic of so many: Vanilla, Strawberry, Chocolate,and oh so good, Rocky Road. Gulping down what I was sure to be the first bite of many, when a strange sensation raptured through my throat, then my entire body. "Oh my god!" was all that managed to come out before racing for the restroom to puke my guts out.
The next day, at an urgent doctor's appointment, he urged me that I would be fine as long as I avoided dairy products all together. I could handle not having cheese and yogurt, but no ice cream? How could I live? I went home feeling dreary, but determined. Experiencing with ice cream to build up a tolerance, only to upchuck the rest. On the edge of defeat, I tried my last recipe: a simple, root beer float. Upon finishing it, I waited for the nauseating sickness to come. But none came. All through the night, my stomach silent, my mouth closed. The next morning, I discovered that I had not a cure, but a treatment for my sickness. Every drop of ice cream I ingested could be handled if I had soda to acid it out. There for the rest of my days, I lived on as a dairy queen, a soda dairy queen, but a dairy queen nonetheless.

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RE: Allergic Reaction - 6/9

Postby writfem76 » Wed Jun 10, 2009 3:19 pm

The gooey caramel oozes from the chocolate covered masterpiece. My mouth increases its production of saliva. The smell of chocolate travels to my nose.

The magic words are spoken. "Do you want some of this?"

I desperately want to say yes but the more rational part of me says remember what the allergist said, "Eat chocolate at your own risk."

Is he crazy? Chocolate is like the fifth food group to me. How can I live without it?

My friend waves her hand in front of my face. "Earth to Marsha."

"I'm sorry. I can't have that. I'm allergic."

The second half of the candy bar disappears into her mouth.

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RE: Allergic Reaction - 6/9

Postby ironvic » Fri Jun 12, 2009 12:08 pm

It was "Free For All Friday" at the casino and the shrimp was especially good. They brimmed with the sea's heady aroma. Let's just say that I had never before built such a huge pile of empty exoskeletons on my plate.

It began as a tiny itch at the back of my throat and I figured I was good for about one more plate of shrimp. When my neck started itching, I began to taper off, my lips were burning and that was my sign to "ship oars," so to speak. When she returned from gambling, my girlfriend was shocked to see my skeletal collection piled upon the gleaming china plate. "Good heavens, Vic, stop!" She had completely forgotten about her three thousand dollar jackpot win. I grunted assent and swallowed the last succulent crustaceous morsel before shoving off from the table.

I figured I downed about two and a half pounds (maybe a tad more) of the delightful sea creatures before my throat swelled shut. It didn't hurt at all, at least not that I remember. I do recall hearing a siren or something.

By this Friday, I should be OK again.

I've been craving succulent shrimp all week.

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