"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.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Key Connection
Key Connection.
I've been giving it some thought -- why is it that those who end up being my food servers provide me with such exceptional service? Why do they go the extra mile to facilitate me? I'd love to believe that all humans are inherently good... But I've lived too long and seen far too much to fall for that one.
Why do they seem to genuinely take an interest in my surviving the meal?
Here again, the cynicist in me wants to blurt out that they are litigiously aware. Most likely true in a good percentage of the cases, but not all. So what gives?
Methinks it could be the same thing that makes one either a player in the politics of life, or an outsider. It's what distinguishes an employee with a career, versus that with a job. It's what makes a legendary baseball player like Willie Mays or Joe DiMaggio an icon. Didn't you root for The Say Hey Kid to become the Home Run King? Didn't you care about Joe when Marilyn died -- didn't your heart go out to him?
Relationships. At the most basic, primative level, it's all about connection.
Connecting makes the difference between someone vesting an interest in you, or merely observing you. It distinguishes you from the general masses. Even though most of us never shook Willie's hand, he took a place in our hearts. On some level, we all identified with him and connected -- he engaged us and we wanted him to set new records, and elevate the game of baseball to new heights. We wished Joe and Marilyn the "happily-ever-after" -- the "Bronx boy who made good" and Hollywood's sexiest, star-crossed kitten... And we were subsequently heartbroken, not just for the world's loss, but for Joe's loss as a husband.
Each engaged us with their charm, flare, character and personality -- their humanity -- and reeled us in. They distinguished themselves above the crowd, and made themselves more than just a number on a jersey, or today's flavor of starlet. On some level, we identified with them and allowed them to touch our hearts. From that point on, we vested our interests in them, and cared about their joys, sorrows, successes and failures.
They connected. Very much like fishermen, who throw a line out into the waters, dangle their most alluring lure, and take us in as we bite.
Isn't that what you do when you engage your manager or supervisor at work? And, if not, why not? Cast out your lure and then reel him/her in. This is what makes the difference between a manager who will get you the cost-of-living 2.3% raise, versus the one who will push for you to get an unheard of 7%, because you're a "good guy/gal" and "valued worker".
The reality is, you can be a mediocre performer, but if you have a nurtured connection with your manager, you are more likely to get the better treatment than the person who has no connection with the manager.
Connection = Interest. Caring, to some degree.
So now, use your fabulous humanistic charm to connect with your food service provider within the first five minutes of interaction -- if you can do this, you will tip the odds in your favor in terms of safety. Each time we venture out into a public place, we take a gamble... a gamble as to whether or not we will come into contact with our nemeses in one way or another... Whether it be by direct or indirect ingestion (e.g. eating a food you are allergic to, or a non-allergen that was prepared on surfaces comtaminated with allergens), direct or indirect contact (e.g. having an allergen come into contact with your skin, or having a person touch your skin with a body part that had touched an allergen)... or even via indirect contact (again, on another person's body) with a cosmetic that contains an allergen. There are a host of subtle and not-so-subtle triggers for a reaction.
Make those key connections. Educate those around you. Make people aware that you have life-and-death sensitivities, and help them to identify with you in a meaningful, human way... Speak to them with your heart so that they can empathize, sympathize and willingly conscript in your army of protectors.
And always be vigilantly observant. Sometimes others get distracted. It's your life, not theirs.
I've been giving it some thought -- why is it that those who end up being my food servers provide me with such exceptional service? Why do they go the extra mile to facilitate me? I'd love to believe that all humans are inherently good... But I've lived too long and seen far too much to fall for that one.
Why do they seem to genuinely take an interest in my surviving the meal?
Here again, the cynicist in me wants to blurt out that they are litigiously aware. Most likely true in a good percentage of the cases, but not all. So what gives?
Methinks it could be the same thing that makes one either a player in the politics of life, or an outsider. It's what distinguishes an employee with a career, versus that with a job. It's what makes a legendary baseball player like Willie Mays or Joe DiMaggio an icon. Didn't you root for The Say Hey Kid to become the Home Run King? Didn't you care about Joe when Marilyn died -- didn't your heart go out to him?
Relationships. At the most basic, primative level, it's all about connection.
Connecting makes the difference between someone vesting an interest in you, or merely observing you. It distinguishes you from the general masses. Even though most of us never shook Willie's hand, he took a place in our hearts. On some level, we all identified with him and connected -- he engaged us and we wanted him to set new records, and elevate the game of baseball to new heights. We wished Joe and Marilyn the "happily-ever-after" -- the "Bronx boy who made good" and Hollywood's sexiest, star-crossed kitten... And we were subsequently heartbroken, not just for the world's loss, but for Joe's loss as a husband.
Each engaged us with their charm, flare, character and personality -- their humanity -- and reeled us in. They distinguished themselves above the crowd, and made themselves more than just a number on a jersey, or today's flavor of starlet. On some level, we identified with them and allowed them to touch our hearts. From that point on, we vested our interests in them, and cared about their joys, sorrows, successes and failures.
They connected. Very much like fishermen, who throw a line out into the waters, dangle their most alluring lure, and take us in as we bite.
Isn't that what you do when you engage your manager or supervisor at work? And, if not, why not? Cast out your lure and then reel him/her in. This is what makes the difference between a manager who will get you the cost-of-living 2.3% raise, versus the one who will push for you to get an unheard of 7%, because you're a "good guy/gal" and "valued worker".
The reality is, you can be a mediocre performer, but if you have a nurtured connection with your manager, you are more likely to get the better treatment than the person who has no connection with the manager.
Connection = Interest. Caring, to some degree.
So now, use your fabulous humanistic charm to connect with your food service provider within the first five minutes of interaction -- if you can do this, you will tip the odds in your favor in terms of safety. Each time we venture out into a public place, we take a gamble... a gamble as to whether or not we will come into contact with our nemeses in one way or another... Whether it be by direct or indirect ingestion (e.g. eating a food you are allergic to, or a non-allergen that was prepared on surfaces comtaminated with allergens), direct or indirect contact (e.g. having an allergen come into contact with your skin, or having a person touch your skin with a body part that had touched an allergen)... or even via indirect contact (again, on another person's body) with a cosmetic that contains an allergen. There are a host of subtle and not-so-subtle triggers for a reaction.
Make those key connections. Educate those around you. Make people aware that you have life-and-death sensitivities, and help them to identify with you in a meaningful, human way... Speak to them with your heart so that they can empathize, sympathize and willingly conscript in your army of protectors.
And always be vigilantly observant. Sometimes others get distracted. It's your life, not theirs.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Secrets
Secrets.
When you're winding your way through life -- for example, traveling home from a day of work -- do you ever look at the passers-by and wonder... What's that person's secret? Who is that person? What's going on inside his/her head? Is s/he simple or complex? Does s/he live her/his life on her/his sleeve, or is there a secret component? Is it a secret only because I spy him/her in passing? Or does s/he have a full-fledged, bowl-you-over SECRET?
I do. Wonder. Constantly.
No, smarty, I don't have too much free time on my hands.
But sometimes, when I pause long enough to watch the action go by, I wonder. Do others wonder about me? Everyone has secrets... There is no such thing as a book that is 100% open -- there is only the illusion. Most of us don't even know a fraction of the secrets our subconsciouses keep from our conscious selves.
Would they, or could they guess one of the secrets that only gets airtime when a gift is given, or a dining experience is suggested? Let's take this one step further... Could my conscious self have ever guessed that my body would flip me into immune system overdrive 37 years into the game?
Friday, July 8, 2011
R U Single?
R U Single?
If you're Single, you might be subject to The Dating Game. If you're single, perhaps not. In any case, time to rewrite the rules.
Feel free to let the Diva/Divo within have a little fun... After all, if you're looking for relationship growth and depth, a perspective partner should be accepting of you and all aspects of your lifestyle. The person should be as concerned about your health as though it was his/her own. There really is very little room for vascillation -- the person must work with you to ensure that your life experiences are safe, or the person does not have what it takes to go the long haul.
At first, understanding what it means for a person to live an anaphylactic lifestyle can seem daunting to your new partner... But after the initial shock, the next stage should be characterized by learning and understanding. Fascination (as in, "Oooh, looky! A new toy!") should not be confused with a sincere zest for learning. The former is a sign that the person truly cares for your well-being, and the latter is the sign of someone who's dating style is more a manifestation of ADHD.
The learner will ask questions (sometimes lots), so as to understand your allergy, how it makes you feel, the warning signs, etc. Try to be patient -- this is what s/he needs to do to come to an intelligent comfort with your reality. This person will probably ask if you have medication, and, in the event that you have a reaction, what the course is and specifically how to administer it to you. This person will not think twice about abandoning one restaurant for another, or reordering his/her kitchen, if it means your safety. Your safe, healthy company is far more important than all else.
The ADHD variety might ask probing questions out of curiosity... You're an interesting phenomenon... To be studied... Until the point when it's no longer a fun mystery. This type might also never ask questions... Might show a curious lack of interest in the fact that random carelessness could mean the difference between life and death for you... No matter what words burst forth from this person's lips, believe her/his actions and not the sizzle... A lack of sincere interest in your lifestyle speaks of her/his lack of sincere interest in you... And foretells that s/he will amount to nothing more than a passing ship in your night.
Such is life. Destiny has given us one leg up on sorting out the mice from the humanoids....
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Assorted Idiots -- Part III
Part III of the Idiot 'ilogies.
The glass can not be full unless a hot meal comes with it.
Oh yeah... we're talking one step away from going primitive.
You check into a charming, little hotel... Quite nicely appointed and off the beaten track -- perfect for your weekend getaway. However, your allergen-meter goes on alert when you spy horses gently grazing on the property. Horse dander and you have never been on friendly terms -- in fact, the last time you went for a horseback ride, you dismounted covered in hives from the belly-button down. Not a deal-breaker, but definitely a reason not to go for long walks on this particular property. Once the body goes into allergen-response mode, it seems as though it reacts more sensitively to the allergens it comes into contact with subsequently.
You check in and then go up to your double room. It's a rustic hotel, and it looks as though it doesn't have A/C. You immediately claim the bed near the window... purely because "She who is near the window controls its opening and closing," in theory. If you can keep it closed, you'll hopefully minimize your allergen response... Your BFF is happy to claim the other bed, and you both plop down for a second -- after the long ride, it feels good to stretch out on a mattress.
BFF starts reading aloud from one of the brochures she picked up at the desk -- there's an attraction nearby -- you could conceivably check it out before dinner. "After dinner," you correct her. You are stAAAAAAARVing and nothing will keep you away from a succulent half of a cornish hen, roasted 'til crispy- brown with an herbal rub and surrounded by new potatoes, broiled in a buttery, rosemary glaze... Or a horseradish and sesame-crusted tuna steak, lightly grilled so that the center is still raw... With julienned ginger, zucchini and summer squash... Or maybe even chicken korma, with chunks of dried fruits and whole cashews, with an extra green chilly for good measure -- and, of course, how can it be ingested without a delicious tadhka daal, basmati and -- oh, let's go all out -- a kerala paratha! And wash it all down with a glass of red Sula, and a generous helping of 3 gulab jamuns.... Ohhh... Your heart races just thinking about an imminent feast.
"Why?" BFF asks. After all, she just ate a couple of hours ago.
After a bit of clever coaxing, you're on your way to a restaurant that was highly recommended by the reception clerk. When you get there, you find it's slightly more than a pub -- which is fine -- you just need one good, "stick to the ribs" kind of meal, and pub fare will do the job just as well as haute cuisine.
You alert the hostess that you have deadly food allergies, and ask if they can accommodate you. "Sure!" she says, without much hesitation.
Okay, perhaps that's a good sign....
You're seated at a table that offers a lovely view of the gardens -- you're both quite pleased with the rustic charm of the place. You open the menu and discuss the selections, as you begin to narrow your choices. A bit of girl-talk and giggling ease into the mix... your stomach's growling, but you're still able to enjoy the perks of being a girl. During the conversation, you take out a flash card and place it on the table - readying for the most important conversation you will have all day. It's as though you're operating on two levels of consciousness -- on the one, you MUST eat -- and, on the other, it's nice having a couple of days away with your BFF. Not long afterwards, the waiter comes to take your drink order and announce today's specials. You then make your announcement.
Virtually the same words every time... but you tailor them to the listener -- go into more depth here and there, as you gauge whether or not you have connected with the person's comprehension... all you need is for him to understand, then he can take your flash card and be your worthy messenger.
You connect, and the waiter says he will speak with the chef. In his absence, conversation turns to another girlfriend who just gave birth to twins. You both try to wrap your heads around how she is handling two sets of hungry mouths and poopy bottoms when the waiter returns. He says that he'll take your order and then consult with the chef. You both place your orders. Yours is strategically chosen to demand the least customization of all the selections -- baked salmon and garlic-sauteed spinach... healthy and simple. You specify that you don't need any garnish, and that they should just place the fish and spinach on the plate without anything else. The "no garnish" concept was a bit difficult -- garnishing a plate is normally a thoughtless endeavor -- but garnish awareness is essential for a successful dining experience, so... the waiter disappears into the kitchen with your orders.
BFF asks why you have to take so much time to explain your requirements to the waiter... "Every time! I mean, gosh... Doesn't it get embarrassing for you?" Somehow, it comes through that the embarrassment BFF refers to is more hers than yours. Not quite sympathetic.
Your friend nibbles on the bread, but you cannot -- you have no idea whether the ingredients are safe, so you abstain... that leaves more room for the food that you're paying for anyway... oh yesss... every, delectable morsel of salmon....
The waiter comes back with a few questions about the foods on your flash card. You answer, in hopes that this will help them determine how they will prepare your dish. The aroma of the dishes on the surrounding tables makes your stomach growl even louder. "Mmmm... the food here smells great!" BFF says, looking around at the other tables. You look around also, thinking, "Finally! My one, square meal of the day."
The waiter comes back, bringing your flash card. "We're sorry, but the chef said that the oils we use all contain sunflower, and we don't use any other type of cooking oil."
"Butter?" you offer.
"We use a margarine spread that contains sunflower. So we can't make the salmon and spinach for you. We can steam some carrots and broccoli for you, though. We would steam them and we know you would be fine."
You look at BFF, who does a reverse-nod and says, "That sounds good to me. Will it be ready with my sliders? We're hungry!" She bats her lashes.
The waiter responds, "Yes." He turns to you, "Are you okay with the broccoli and carrots?" You're disappointed that BFF still wants to eat here... despite her sudden hunger and lack of empathy, you give in, since you need to eat something other than fruit and nuts sooner rather than later. He disappears into the kitchen.
"Why couldn't we go some place else? I've just eaten fruits and nuts today -- I'm going to grow feathers!" He had barely disappeared, when this sentiment burst from your lips.
Okay, that lacked subtlety.
"What do you mean? You're going to have vegetables -- that's better than nuts, right?" BFF says this without a trace of deeper understanding.
Your mouth literally drops open... which is good... it's best that you check your initial response for something more tactful. "I'm not a vegetarian, Bea. Organic - yes. Vegetarian - no. They're not the same. I need one square meal a day, at minimum... and I really am craving fish or chicken."
"Oh... I didn't know. Can we just stay and then we can go somewhere else tomorrow?" Just as these words are out of BFF's mouth, the waiter arrives with your food. Her sliders make you salivate, despite the fact that you don't eat beef. Your steamed carrots and broccoli look more boiled than steamed... and when you take your first bit, you realize that they did not use any seasoning -- not even salt. Your eyes water.
You've known BFF since the year after your anaphylactic diagnosis more than a decade ago. If she doesn't understand by now, she never will
Monday, July 4, 2011
Rebranding of Anaphylaxes Axis
Happy Independence Day!
"Anaphylaxes Axis" has been renamed "Anaphylaxis Axis". This change will make it easier for readers to find these pages from search engines. Please feel free to follow by email or subscribe to a feed so as to keep up with the latest and greatest!
"Anaphylaxes Axis" has been renamed "Anaphylaxis Axis". This change will make it easier for readers to find these pages from search engines. Please feel free to follow by email or subscribe to a feed so as to keep up with the latest and greatest!
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