Nuts! Or was it the shrimp?

I was in the hospital last night, Ms J. The emergency ward at St. Joseph's. I had an allergic reaction to something I ate. It was strange because I've never been allergic to anything before in my Life.

I was invited to a turkey dinner at the home of some church friends - Larry and Patricia. Beautiful souls. Pat served a fabulous meal for about fifteen adults and four children - family, extended family, and friends. Friendly people. Warm and welcoming atmosphere. Delicious home-cooked meal. I had a wonderful time.

On the drive home in the car, though, I felt something was wrong. My mouth felt strange. There was a kind of burning sensation on the sides of my tongue and on the floor of my mouth. And I was suddenly aware of a sore throat. I wondered what I had eaten that had irritated my mouth so. At home, I tidied up a bit and got ready for bed. I wasn't looking forward to getting up for work in a few hours.

I lay down and pulled the blankets over me and tried to get comfortable, but in the still darkness, I was even more aware of my mouth. My tongue was really getting painful. Burning. And it hurt to swallow. I lay on my side and felt saliva flow down my cheek onto my pillow.

"This is weird," I thought. "What on earth is going on?"

I sat up and felt my mouth fill again with saliva. Painfully, I swallowed it down and almost immediately, I had to swallow again. Why is my mouth producing so much saliva, I wondered. I swallowed again. Ouch! My throat was really sore. And my tongue was ... Well, my tongue seemed bigger than normal. Was it my imagination? God, it hurt. Burning, burning, as though I had drunk a mouthful of some corrosive liquid.

I rose and walked to the bathroom where I peered at my mouth in the mirror. I expected to find the inside of my mouth red-looking and inflamed, but it looked normal. Nearly normal. My tongue was indeed swollen. And so sore, I wasn't able to extend it much beyond my teeth.

"I'll just go back to bed and try to get some sleep," I decided. "It'll be better in the morning."

But sleep would not come, Ms J. My tongue continued to burn. My throat was sore. And I was forced to swallow what seemed like gallons of saliva. My pillow was soaked and I turned it over and tried again to find comfort. There was none. My throat was closing. It was getting harder and harder to swallow. I looked at the clock. 11:20. I was getting scared. I got up again and got dressed. Then I drove to the hospital.

I found a parking spot near the emergency entrance and walked from the car through the sliding glass doors into the florescent glare of the waiting room. There were dozens of chairs there, arranged in rows. All were empty and I thanked God for this bit of good fortune.

"Can I help you?"

It was the voice of a young woman in the reception area. I approached her wicket and smiled as best I could.

"Yes, ma'am. There's something wrong with my mouth."

My tongue was so swollen now, that I had trouble speaking clearly. My throat ached.

"My tongue is swollen," I continued. "And my throat really hurts. I can hardly swallow."

I showed her my government Health Card and I was led off to an examination room where a nurse met me. She handed me a hospital gown and enquired about my condition. I told her what I'd told the receptionist.

"OK," she said. "You're probably having a reaction to something you ate. Get undressed and put the gown on. The opening goes at the back. Don't worry. The doctor will see you soon. You'll be fine."

Her name was Monique, Ms J. She was pretty. She was kind and gentle. It hurt a bit when she inserted the intravenous needle into the back of my hand, but I know those needles are large. They always hurt.

Monique studied my chart for a minute while I lay there on the narrow gurney. Then she looked down at me and smiled.

"I used to live on your street, in an apartment building. I lived at 83 Albert."

"Really?" I said. "I used to live at 85, in the building right next door. I lived there for three years until I bought my house. Do you know Patty Ranolli? She used to be my neighbour friend."

Her face brightened.

"Yeah! I know Patty. She works here. She found that apartment for me. Isn't she a sweetheart?"

I agreed that Patty was very nice.

"Wow!" said Monique. "Small world ain't it?"

"It's a small world alright. But I wouldn't want to have to paint it," I joked and she laughed and patted my leg. This woman was really cute. I searched her hand for a wedding ring and found one. Figures.

"So you bought a house and stayed in Mimico, eh?"

"Yup," I said proudly. "I just moved a few houses down the street. Where do you live now?"

"I had to move all the way to Barrie to find something I could afford."

Barrie is an hour north of Toronto, Ms J. I decided it would have been too far to drive to date her anyway.

She left then to check on other patients and suddenly, I was hurting again. Strange isn't it? As long as I was engaged in conversation with this lovely woman, I felt fine. But as soon as I was alone, the pain returned. Pain, Ms J. It's only in my mind, it seems. I tried to occupy my mind again, but I could not forget my torment. It was stronger than I. And it was getting worse.

My tongue burned and my throat ached. I longed for something to spit into; I hated to swallow, but I had no choice. My teeth began to hurt and I clenched my jaw until it, too, began to ache. I shivered under the light cotton sheet. After a while, I began to shake uncontrollably.

Son-of-a-bitch, I thought. This totally sucks. I looked at the red numbers on the digital clock above my head. 12:30 I'd been at the hospital for an hour. Somewhere beyond the curtain that surrounded my bed, a woman screamed in pain.

"OW! OH GOD! OOO, IT HURTS!!"

I was not alone in my pain, Ms Journal. There were others here who hurt too. Worse than I, I reckoned. I wanted to call to her, to comfort her somehow. But I didn't know what to say so I said nothing. Another wave of tremors slid down my torso and shook my legs violently before exiting my toes. I could feel my impatience increasing. Where was the fucking doctor??!! I wanted to call for the nurse, but I couldn't remember her name. It was French, I thought. Was it Michelle? Nicole? I began to panic. What if she didn't come back? I was so cold. And I hurt so much. What if my throat closed completely and I couldn't breathe? What was her name, dammit? Shit. Shit. Then it came to me.

"MONIQUE? ARE YOU THERE?"

I heard someone walking toward me and I waited there in my bed behind my curtain. Suddenly, the curtains parted and a face appeared.

"Are you OK? How's your breathing??"

It was my angel, Monique. Her blond head and reassuring smile was like a light in my darkness. I swallowed painfully and grimaced.

"I'm just cold, Monique. I'm cold and I'm scared and I hurt. How much longer before the doctor comes?"

"I'll go and check right now, OK hun'? I'll be right back. Don't go away, alright?"

She called me "hun'", Ms J. God, she was so sweet. In a minute, she was back.

"It's hard to say how much longer you'll have to wait, Dale. Dr. Moffat is the only one here tonight and it's fairly busy. He's doing the best he can."

I looked at her soft features and smiled weakly and nodded my head.

"I understand," I said. "Thanks."

She approached my little gurney and held up a white blanket, folded.

"Look what I've baked for you. Fresh out of the oven. This will warm you."

She spread that blanket over me, Ms J, and it was like heaven. It was warm!! It was comforting. It was ... fabulous! She produced a pillow from somewhere and gently placed it under my head.

"Please try to relax. I know it hurts, but I can't give you any medicine til the doctor sees you. He won't be much longer."

It was nearly 2:00 when the doctor finally came. He asked a few questions and diagnosed an anaphylactic reaction to either nuts or shrimp. He prescribed two drugs: prednisone and benedryl.

Monique returned shortly thereafter and administered drugs both by mouth and intra-muscular injection. She disconnected the intravenous needle from the saline solution and removed the needle from my hand. She was so gentle.

"You'll feel better soon, Dale," she said and placed her cool palm on my forehead. "The benedryl will make you sleepy. Try to get some sleep if you can."

At six o'clock, she woke me and asked how I was feeling. I told her my throat was still sore but my tongue felt much better.

"The doctor says you can go home now. Are you OK to drive or do you want me to call a cab?"

I drove myself home and went back to bed. I slept until noon today and I still feel rather weak. My tongue is nearly normal again but my throat is still tender. I've made an appointment to see my family doctor for referral to an allergy specialist.

I do hope it was the shrimp that made me ill, Ms J. It's much easier to avoid eating shrimp than to avoid eating nuts. Besides, I love peanut butter. I eat it nearly every day. At least I used to ...

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