Warriors, Falling and Allergies--Oh My!

So much to share! Warriors and Falling and Allergies, oh my!

The Warrior completed her chemo treatment yesterday. After a long, grueling year, she was able to whoop it up and celebrate the closing of this shitty chapter. It was a fabulous last treatment, complete with sparkling grape juice and bell ringing. There are still appointments and check-ups and that damn port, but that's nothing compared to where she's "been." Her next hurdle is decided if she wants to get nipples tattooed on to her fabulous new breasts or and what tattoo artist she will employ if she does go ahead with this endeavor. She also has to get her port out. They need to do that soon or she's going to take it out on her own. I believe she's already sterilized her exacto knife....

We're have a "game night" next week. I have suggested we play "Pin the Nipple on the Warrior," but I'm not certain this will come to fruition.

I managed to slip on the ice a few weeks ago while walking the dogs. It was dark and thus I didn't see the ice. The good news is that I didn't fall on Bandido nor did she run away in fright. The surprising news is that the wife didn't laugh. Well, not that I saw or heard. A thankful thing is that we were only four houses from home. The bad news is that I'm still a hurting pup. I don't think my tailbone is re-broken but something down in that area is keeping me slowed down. No jogging or pole dancing for me.

The tragic news (well, in the context of home life, not in the big picture) is that I'm allergic to Bandido. This was unfortunately confirmed by a trip to the allergist last week. The reason for a trip to the allergist was that I finally was sick and tired of my hacking, throat-clearing and feeling like I was drowning when trying to go to sleep. This has been going on for about 2.5 years.

I'm sure my co-workers and the wife are VERY happy that I'm trying to take of this, too as it is completely obnoxious. I want to slap myself--I can't imagine how other people can stand it.

Let's preface this by noting I went to a my primary care doctor back a few years, complaining about the hacking and post nasal drip, hoping he could help figure it out and get me relief. My diagnosis? My electronic chart read: "PND."  I freaked, as that's Paroxysmal nocturnal dyspnoea. I have that??? That's a symptom of heart failure! I immediately called the doctor's office to confirm this god-awful-sounding diagnosis (definitely have heart issues, but the anxiety-driven kind, not PND kind). I tell the nurse, "He didn't say anything about this! I imagine he would've told me I had this disease." She too expressed her surprise and put me on hold. She comes back and I can hear her chuckling.

My diagnosis? Yes, it was definitely PND. But, the doctor checked the wrong PND. My diagnosis was Post Nasal Drip. Asswipe. Not only did he scare me...

I ALREADY KNEW THAT! Nothing was resolved. And, no I never went back to see him. Piss on that.

Fast forward a few years from this waste-of-time-and-insurance appointment. I'm at the allergist because I've become suspicious. I've been suspicious for quite some time, but I refused to entertain the idea. Because I've been traveling a lot, I've noticed I don't hack when I'm not at home. I thought I was allergic to the wife, but a trip to Scottsdale with her proved that theory to be incorrect--I didn't hack when alone with her for the week.

I chose to go back to the allergist that helped me thirty years ago with my horrible, initial bout of ragweed-mania. I was tickled pink to find he was still in practice. I knew he wouldn't remember me and that my records no longer existed. I didn't care about that. I cared that he helped me greatly before and thus I had hope he could help me again. He listened very carefully, asked questions, examined the parts of which needed examination and ordered the scratch test.

The first set of scratches, on my forearms, were very (and strangely) disappointing... in the fact that only the control scratch got big and itchy. No answers. Bitter, party of one. I was assured the next tests would provide results. Using my upper arm, I was given five bubble-type injections. The first one was fine... the second one immediately started itching--and, I mean immediately. I asked if that was the control. There was no response for the nurse. She waited to finish all the injections and then said....

...."We don't use a control for this set. That's.....

....the dog."

It itched like there was no tomorrow. It was much itchier than the control. It made my ragweed allergy pale in comparison.

I wasn't surprised. I saw this coming. There was a sense of relief as I now had answers. But, that meant I was allergic to Bandido. It's not like I was going to kick her out of the house or return her to the rescue. It just meant I'd need pills or shots or pills and shots or something.

I've never noticed a strong allergy to dogs before. Oh, a few dogs over the years have bothered me in the past but not to the point of hacking and coughing and drowning in my own post-nasal drip. I am ridiculously allergic to cats, but dogs?

The doctor returned to talk about my results. He started with, "you know what I'm going to say, right?" I most certainly did. And, he knew this was not on the table. He agreed, knowing this was not going to be an option even remotely entertained. He listed all the things I could do. Thank god for the wife. She already does all the cleanliness things suggested. We already have wood and tile floors. The dogs don't sleep in the bedroom, let alone in the bed. Our couch is covered with an ugly cloth couch cover thing that is washable. Options included not petting the dog (not gonna happen), not letting the dog sit with me on the couch (not gonna happen), changing my clothes (okay, I can do that), washing my hands after petting the dog (okay, got it) and medication (absolutely!). I asked about starting shots, as those worked handsomely back in the '80s. Not time to go there. Time for testing medication and return in a month.

And, so I've started new medication and I have to say, there has been MUCH less hacking. I can actually lay down and not drown in my own mucus. Medication is a band-aid, as it doesn't resolve the allergy, but it allows me to exist without wanting to slap myself. It is delightful not to hack and clear my throat all the time.

The first night after seeing the allergist, I tried sitting in a different chair and the wife sat in my "spot" on the couch. Bandido glared at me the entire time. She was not pleased. I could see her, "what the hell are you doing over there?" glare the whole time. I'm not sure she even blinked for the hour I tried my new spot in the front room. Nope, this wasn't going to work. Oh sure, I could keep doing this until the habit or expectation was broken, but really? I'd rather wash my hands, change my clothes and hack a little bit. And thus, I've returned to my spot and she remains in the spot next to me.

Time will tell how this all goes. I'm still hoping for shots. I don't even care if it's a placebo effect. I just want to be less allergic to dogs... especially a little "Texas Special" from the Tex Mex border. She's worth a few hacks and coughs.

I also look forward to staying upright now that the ice is melting. My butt bones need to get their act together. Spring can't come soon enough.

Medication and warm weather. I feel better already.
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