Allergitastic!

A few days back, I posted over on the Metblog about the joys of allergy season.

I've been allergic for years. Generally, I've had an idea of what I'm allergic to. Pollens, dust, cats. You know, the big stuff.

But a week and a half ago, my allergies exploded with a fervor unseen since the days of yore. I was dying. Literally. I spent an afternoon losing most of my vital juices through my nose, while hacking and sneezing and blowing and wheezing my time away in an office outside of which several staffers noted my apparent misery.

My wife having recently taken a position at a local allergist's office, I pounced upon the opportunity to have my condition formally diagnosed.

Today I went in for that chance. For those who've never been allergy tested, it's really quite interesting. Step one involves pricking you with umpteen little needle-lets, each dipped in an oil containing proteins or other elements drawn from various common allergens (grasses, trees, cats, dogs, and cockroaches...that last part was a little disconcerting). You sit for 15 minutes and wait to see which pricks get big and red and puffy and itchy and which ones simply stay mildly irritated.

My 15 minutes went slowly. My wife, having enjoyed being able to inflict me with this torture, made sure to emphasize that I wasn't allowed to itch and had to stay very still. I sat, arms out, oily prickly bumps raising, and silently watched as the time appeared to slow down with each passing moment.

It was hell.

My wife brought over a book to read. Of course, with my prick-tested arms immobilized, I wasn't able to turn the pages, so I figure she was just adding insult to injury.

After the requisite time had passed, I learned that I'm allergic to cats, dust, and pollens (particularly grasses). Fescue ended up being a huge allergen, and my small prick ended up morphing into a "pseudopod" which meant, in this case, a large bump with an ever-widening redness around it.

Sensing my discomfort, my wife slathered my arm in medical-grade Calamine lotion and I met her boss, my new doctor.

Standard treatments for dealing with allergies:

• Avoiding allergens; and,
• Allergy medicines.

In a sense, I'm disappointed. I think I knew that much. However, I do look forward to starting my five-year course of monthly allergy shots, which (if successful) will reduce my allergic reactions substantially and will also guarantee that, if placed in water, my body will bloat like a sponge after absorbing all of the surrounding moisture like a sponge.

But, seriously, I'm glad I went. At least now there's an actual plan for helping me to, eventually, avoid another hell-day at work (if not for my benefit, for the staffers nearby...)