"The first Law of Chaos: There is no law. And Anarchy's its cousin."
Thus said my immune system, one fine day... after 30-something years of blissful obedience.
And so I wonder... What would make the immune system go mutinous? And why? Is there an external trigger, like stress, or burning Twin Towers? Or is it more of a post-embryonic, tasteless joke -- like a congenital cyst that pops up in the middle of one's forehead one day while reading in the library? Could it be recessive genetics? Perhaps I am the dumping ground for all of the bum genes in the clan. Or could it merely be the way this particular body has chosen to enter mid-life?
Genetics can tell us of someone's predisposition to develop conditions, but it does not necessarily dictate destiny. Pollen allergies are the precurors to food allergies... but not everyone with a pollen allergy develops food allergies. So what are the determining factors? Do the effects of nature make their way into our genetic encoding? Post-mortem, do our genes look exactly as they did at birth? And in what way does aging play a role?
Fifty years ago, kids brought peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to school and shared them without a care. Two hundred years ago, kids ate raw peanuts. Today, peanut butter is not admissable in schools... And more and more people are living the reality defined by celiac's disease. Which begs the question... How are the younger generations different to their ancestors? Is it the environment? Modern agriculture -- the way we grow or raise our food? Or could it be the manufactured food industry? When last have you eaten a packaged food product that had less than six ingredients, none of which had more than three syllables? Or could it be something our parents used -- medications, creams, ointments, water -- something that seeped into their systems and into their gametes?
Health providers understand the scientific mechanics of the body's immune system, but they don't understand the spirit of it -- the why it does what it does, the way it does it, bloody well when it decides to do it. Perhaps in 300 years, the barriers between scientific disciplines will have been eradicated. Maybe then they will be able to explain the nano-science of the neurotransmitters that relay the instructions to go haywire. Quantum Physics' mischievous conspiracy with Physiology... But will they ever be able to explain how the instructions were conceived and constructed?
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Scratch Tests
Scratch tests.
Not Scratch-N-Sniffs... Which are a LOT more fun... But Scratch tests.
Scratching prohibited. Kind of oxymoronic.
The test consists of small pricks to the surface of the skin, with an immediate application of allergens in a solution. Then comes the tribulation for anyone whose mind can't be idle for five consecutive seconds... the sitting and waiting for a minimum of 20 minutes to see if you react. And, if so, how much. Often administered on the inside of the forearms, it precludes the attendance to the most primitive of bodily needs... like nose scratching, rubbing a tired eye, or seriously adjusting oneself in one's seat (my advice -- make sure you are most comfortably situated prior to the first set of scratches).
I just had another set done... This time, I was being tested for the allergens for which I had been receiving desensitization shots for the past nine months, in addition to a host of new allergens, some of which I had specifically requested. Like mosquito. (Digression Alert) Did you know there are approximately 3,000 known species of mosquito? 150 of which inhabit North America, 63 of which can be found within the borders of New Jersey. Have wings, will travel.
As if aster wasn't enough.
Time travel... Rewind the clocks...
Last September, I brought an ivy plant in from my terrace garden. Unbeknownst to me, a mosquito had temporarily made this plant its perch. A long, black, very hungry mosquito with more legs than any insect should have, and an equally sobering proboscis. I had thought I'd spied it momentarily after bringing the plant in, but it had vanished as quickly as it had appeared... so I'd thought nothing of it.
Twenty minutes later, I saw her again on my bathroom floor... The floor is white, she is black -- perfect background for what was about to happen next. I wasn't sure what kind of bug it was because it was so large -- but something about it reminded me of a mosquito. It was so fat from its last feast, that it was having a hard time getting airborne. I saved it the trouble.
SPLAT. There, on the bathroom floor, was the equivalent of a vitamin A caplet's worth of blood, mixed amongst mosquito en- and extrails. "What a beautiful, bright red," I thought. Second thought, "It was a mosquito." Third thought, "I hope that's not HIV-positive." Of course, Clorox Anywhere is never far from reach. As I cleaned the scene of the crime, I wondered if I had gotten to her before she had gotten to me.
About an hour later, I realized that I had been the last supper. It itched as mosquito bites do... And I scratched as the human animal does... That evening when I got home and took a look at my calf, I looked in wonder at how large it was. Not surprising, since she had been such a big specimen of a mosquito. It was a bit red... I decided to try to limit my scratching to more of a rubbing action...
Note to all: profuse rubbing can also remove the head of a mosquito bite.
By the next evening, it had grown to twice the size of the night before. The next day, it had doubled again. By the fourth day, it was the size of my palm -- an angry, crimson, swollen, circular patch of 4" diameter... and growing. Awe-inspiring. And a bit freaky. Time to call in the big guns... Allegra.
It took me four days to realize I had developed an allergy to mosquito -- which was one of the main drivers that landed me at this itchy end of a scratch test. I made sure that mosquito was amongst the 21 test allergens... I knew exactly which scratch it was... expected it to blow up to the size of a Ring Ding... But, at the end of the test period, it barely registered a reaction. That's when I learned that I was allergic to at least one of the 3,000 species out there... Just not the particular one for which I'd been tested.
FYI: For many species, the female mosquito feeds to produce eggs... in her month-long life span, she will lay 2,000 to 3,000 eggs... Human/animal blood is a key element in their cycle of life.
Not Scratch-N-Sniffs... Which are a LOT more fun... But Scratch tests.
Scratching prohibited. Kind of oxymoronic.
The test consists of small pricks to the surface of the skin, with an immediate application of allergens in a solution. Then comes the tribulation for anyone whose mind can't be idle for five consecutive seconds... the sitting and waiting for a minimum of 20 minutes to see if you react. And, if so, how much. Often administered on the inside of the forearms, it precludes the attendance to the most primitive of bodily needs... like nose scratching, rubbing a tired eye, or seriously adjusting oneself in one's seat (my advice -- make sure you are most comfortably situated prior to the first set of scratches).
I just had another set done... This time, I was being tested for the allergens for which I had been receiving desensitization shots for the past nine months, in addition to a host of new allergens, some of which I had specifically requested. Like mosquito. (Digression Alert) Did you know there are approximately 3,000 known species of mosquito? 150 of which inhabit North America, 63 of which can be found within the borders of New Jersey. Have wings, will travel.
As if aster wasn't enough.
Time travel... Rewind the clocks...
Last September, I brought an ivy plant in from my terrace garden. Unbeknownst to me, a mosquito had temporarily made this plant its perch. A long, black, very hungry mosquito with more legs than any insect should have, and an equally sobering proboscis. I had thought I'd spied it momentarily after bringing the plant in, but it had vanished as quickly as it had appeared... so I'd thought nothing of it.
Twenty minutes later, I saw her again on my bathroom floor... The floor is white, she is black -- perfect background for what was about to happen next. I wasn't sure what kind of bug it was because it was so large -- but something about it reminded me of a mosquito. It was so fat from its last feast, that it was having a hard time getting airborne. I saved it the trouble.
SPLAT. There, on the bathroom floor, was the equivalent of a vitamin A caplet's worth of blood, mixed amongst mosquito en- and extrails. "What a beautiful, bright red," I thought. Second thought, "It was a mosquito." Third thought, "I hope that's not HIV-positive." Of course, Clorox Anywhere is never far from reach. As I cleaned the scene of the crime, I wondered if I had gotten to her before she had gotten to me.
About an hour later, I realized that I had been the last supper. It itched as mosquito bites do... And I scratched as the human animal does... That evening when I got home and took a look at my calf, I looked in wonder at how large it was. Not surprising, since she had been such a big specimen of a mosquito. It was a bit red... I decided to try to limit my scratching to more of a rubbing action...
Note to all: profuse rubbing can also remove the head of a mosquito bite.
By the next evening, it had grown to twice the size of the night before. The next day, it had doubled again. By the fourth day, it was the size of my palm -- an angry, crimson, swollen, circular patch of 4" diameter... and growing. Awe-inspiring. And a bit freaky. Time to call in the big guns... Allegra.
It took me four days to realize I had developed an allergy to mosquito -- which was one of the main drivers that landed me at this itchy end of a scratch test. I made sure that mosquito was amongst the 21 test allergens... I knew exactly which scratch it was... expected it to blow up to the size of a Ring Ding... But, at the end of the test period, it barely registered a reaction. That's when I learned that I was allergic to at least one of the 3,000 species out there... Just not the particular one for which I'd been tested.
FYI: For many species, the female mosquito feeds to produce eggs... in her month-long life span, she will lay 2,000 to 3,000 eggs... Human/animal blood is a key element in their cycle of life.
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