I've said it a few times -- probably even here on this weblog -- but if I could change one aspect about my physical being, I wouldn't ask to be taller or better looking or to have more manageable hair or have a better singing voice or to be super-endowed in some form. I would simply opt to never have to deal with an allergy again.
I'm not sure when it first started happening -- let alone why -- but probably about fifteen years ago, I started developing a worrying number of food allergies. It started with apples. I used to eat apples with abandon. One day I took a chomp out of a nice, shiny red one, and suddenly I didn't feel quite right. My throat closed up. My glands went into overdrive. My chest tightened up. My heart rate increased. My breathing became shallow. I felt slightly feverish. In short, I felt crappy. What the hell?
So, I stopped eating apples. In keeping with the motto of King Arthur's Round Table -- "Adopt, Adapt, Improve" -- I assumed a policy of avoidance. No more apples for me, then. Then I had the same experience with a pear. Okay, pears are out too (which was a bummer -- I really liked pears). Then it happened with a peach. Then a plum. Then a strawberry. Then a beet (and, really, who the hell eats beets?). Then some basil. Then an almond. In very short order, a good two thirds of the kingdom of fruit, vegetables and nuts were no longer my friends. I could still eat grapes and citrus and bananas, but beyond that, I was taking some chances.
And the ramification of those chances were pretty spooky. My mother became concerned that the symptoms I'd exhibit every time were anaphylactic -- and that each time I suffered the reaction, I was pushing my luck (anaphylactic shock is potentially fatal). Motivated by not wanting to have my obituary read: "Young Man Fatally Felled By Beet," I sought out the counsel of an allergist, who summarily deduced that I had "Oral Allergy Syndrome." The good news was that it wasn't fatal, and that contrary to my initial fear, the reaction wasn't worsening with each episode. The bad news was that there was no treatment for it, other than some plan involving two shots in the arm a week for a two-year span. Pardon my French, but fuck that. So, I went back to my policy of avoidance.
Fast forward to this morning. While waiting for my colleague, Ben, to get off the phone, I sauntered over to the desk of another colleague, Jonathan. In an act of holiday cheer and good will towards man, Jonathan had an open box of chocolates -- some Baci Peruginas to be exact -- on his desk, ripe for the taking. While chatting, I made some sort've "don't mind if I do" statement, unwrapped one of the confections, popped it in my mouth and commenced chewing -- stupidly oblivious to contents of said sweetie. We chatted some more, and then I went back to my desk.
Within seconds of sitting down, it was instantly clear what was happening. My breathing became labored, and my throat felt like it had been infested by a squad of tiny, spelunking porcupines. Whatever nut was in that chocolate (hazel nut, as it turned out) had just joined the ranks of the apple, the pear, the almond, etc. in declaring war with my immune system. I first started to put out the maelstrom in my esophagus by drinking some piping hot coffee, which didn't do much to help. My colleague, Jane -- who sits behind me -- thoughtfully tossed an antihistamine capsule my way, which I imbibed with the same oblivious stealth that I'd initially consumed the offending foodstuff. I also chewed through an entire roll of Tums (which, for some reason, help quell the flare-up). After a little while, the sensation subsided and I was back to normal.
More than anything, however, it's the frustration of my system imposing its own limitations on me (see also these gripes) that pisses me off. I can live without ever ingesting another hazel nut, but it's the principle that will continue to plague me. It almost makes me want to spend an entire day eating hazel nuts -- just to punish the physical shell that is letting me down.
So, in a nutshell (sorry, couldn't resist), allergies are a bitch.
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