I think I am allergic to pre-natal class

I went to my sister's pre-natal class the other night. After which, I really needed some beer. I find the classes quite stressful, what with all the pregnant women and the graphic videos we are forced to watch, so I find beer helpful to recover from the trauma. I also had nachos, with extra cheese because the cheese also helps me recover. I had a lot of trauma. And a lot of nachos. With salsa, and sour cream and spicy cheese dip.

So Jen drops me off and I take Desoto for a little walk around the park, and then go home and get into bed. I noticed that I had a couple of hives on my arm that were quite itchy, but didn't pay a lot of attention, because I get hives some times. I also noticed that my breathing was a little constricted, but I have asthma, so I used my puffer a couple of times and just assumed that it was because of the damp weather.

After I got into bed, I noticed that I was having trouble swallowing. Now, you can tell I watch too much tv, because after watching House last week, my first thought upon not being able to swallow was that I had a tapeworm and it had crawled up into my throat. Seriously. I was quite convinced that this was the case. Now, according to my mother, the fact that I don't eat meat means the probability that I have or will ever have a tapeworm is quite low, but still, you never know. I would also be skinnier, I think, but I can convince myself of almost anything, rational or not. I was so convinced that I had a tapeworm, I was too scared to look in a mirror. For a little while anyway, until swallowing got really difficult. When I finally did look in the mirror, my throat was swollen almost completely closed.

Over the next couple of hours, this is the conversation I proceeded to have in my head:

"Huh. This is peculiar. I wonder what this is.

Probably stress related. It will go away.

I wonder if I should call Mom and ask her. Well, it's late and she is probably sleeping. I don't want to bother her. If it gets any worse, then I will call. It's probably nothing.

If it gets worse, what if I can't talk? Well, then I could call 911. I think they have to come and check on me, even if I can't say anything. I wonder if they would break down the door. If I was unconscious, Desoto is not going to let anyone touch me, he is so protective. That might be a problem. I wonder what the paramedics would do. Probably call animal control. Do we have animal control in Charlottetown? He would be scared. Ha, they would be scared. Plus he smells like skunk. My house smells like skunk.

I could just call Mom, they have caller ID so she would know it was me. Except Jen has the key to my house. I should probably call her. But she needs her rest. But Mom would have to wake her up anyway to get the key. Remember to get Mom another key.

I wonder if I could perform an emergency tracheotomy on myself? Like with a pen. I saw it on tv. I wonder if any of my knives are sharp enough? I should get a sharpener. I think Dad has a bunch, maybe I will just take one of his.

If I died, I wonder how long it would be until somebody found me. I wonder what poor Desoto would do? I wonder if he would howl. I wonder if Pat and Darlene next door would be able to hear him? Maybe he would just think I was sleeping. I wonder how long it would be until he had to pee on the floor? God, that would be gross. I wouldn't want to have to clean that up. Oh, I would be dead, I wouldn't have to clean it up.

I can't die, my house is too messy. I really have to vacuum tomorrow. I should run the dishwasher too. I should probably tell Jen, that if I do die, she has to come and remove anything incriminating before Mom gets here.

Maybe I will take some antihistamines, that will probably help. I hope this goes away soon, I really need to get some sleep.

This is weird. This feels weird.

People are going to start thinking I just make shit up. How can one person have so much bad luck? I must have been a really bad person in a previous life. Maybe I should have an exorcism. A de-cursing. I need a gypsy. I wonder if there are any gypsies in PEI. Maybe a fortune teller would work. where could I find a fortune teller? I should look in the yellow pages."

So after a little while, I started to be able to breathe better and swallow more easily, and I eventually fell asleep.

The next day, I called my Mom, and after telling her about the weird thing that happened, she yelled at me. For a long time. And called me an idiot. And then she suggested that the next time I have an anaphylactic reaction and my throat swells closed and I can't breathe, instead of just lying in my bed and waiting to die, I should call her. Or call an ambulance.

Then I went to my doctor. She kind of yelled at me too. She did laugh though, about the tapeworm, and agreed with Mom that I am probably not going to get one. She also suggested I not watch so many medical shows on tv. And she told me that I did, indeed have an anaphylactic reaction to something, probably something that I ate. Or drank (God, not the beer! Why does God hate me?). Since it was likely something that I ate, they don't usually do allergy testing, because generally the attacks get progressively worse, and can be fatal, so there is no sense making me have another one. It's pretty much up to me to figure out what it is. And I now have to carry an Epi-Pen with me at all times, since that is what is going to save my life if I have an attack. But I don't have to stick it in my heart, like on Pulp Ficton, just in my thigh.

This sucks.

On a more positive note, I figured that since Mom is a nurse she could do something to save me if I took another attack, so I had a glass of wine at my parents last night, and I didn't die, so it's not the alcohol. You have no idea how relieved I am. I had some cheese at Mom's too, so it's not the cheese either. Yay. I can still eat my two favourite food groups.

I am hoping that it is the jalapeno peppers. Or the onions. I could live without those. Not the tomatoes though. I really like tomatoes. According to my doctor, it could also be anything that my food came into contact with, so that widens the field a bit.

Anyway, now I have this weird allergy to some kind of food, and I have to carry an Epi-Pen, but I can still drink! So, not all bad.

Hee. Hee. Hoo.

My sister Jennifer and her husband Andy are expecting their first baby in April. So exciting!!!! I can't wait!!! My mother, whose other two grandchildren live far away in Calgary, is so excited, she has taken to referring to the baby as her baby. Which kind of freaks out my brother-in-law. Andy is out in Alberta for a couple of months working with a friend, so I have been filling in for him at pre-natal classes. Um, if I ever was feeling a little blue about being defective and not able to have my own babies, NOT ANYMORE!!!!! Holy crap! This is some serious shit. I am a little freaked, and I am only the fill-in coach. Plus, I had to see and hear some stuff that as a non-childbearer, I should have lived my whole life not knowing. I did manage to go the whole time without sticking my fingers in my ears and going "lalalalalalala" to drown out the instructor's words, but just barely.

On the bright side, I rock at the labour breathing. Hee. Hee. Hoo. Or, as the instructor said, Pant. Pant. Blow. Which, if I ever join an internet dating site, is totally going to be my screen name. Seriously, I am so good at the breathing. I watched some childbirth show one time years ago (I don't remember why. Possibly I was drunk, since I can't ever imagine intentionally watching something like that), and ever since I have used labour breathing to deal with everything from cramps to migraines to a stubbed toe. Seriously, it really helps. Not on skunk related pain, but not much helps with that. I am so good at the breathing, in fact, I almost want to go into the delivery room with Jen, just so I can help her breathe. Well, as long as I don't have to see anything besides a pretty, clean, new baby or hear anything other than the sound of my own breathing. Hee. Hee. Hoo.

Free to good home...

Big dog, eats a lot, drools, not so smart, smells bad. Will throw in bag of food.

So, I would really like to know who put the curse on me. I have been having the worst run of bad luck lately, which has really sucked. I had a pipe burst under my bathtub, which filled my downstairs hallway with water. Then my car died, to the tune of lots of dollars. Plus a whole bunch of other stuff, so I have been deep in my usual winter depression, compounded by all the bad luck. Then, Sunday, I was having a great day. I worked at the bookstore, it was a nice, mild sunny day, and I was in a good mood, for the first time in ages. I came home, ate my supper and then took my dog for a walk. It was a great walk, and we were almost home. I had Desoto on the leash, which is actually unusual because if I walk Desoto at night on the trail, I generally don't leash him unless there are other people around, which there almost never are. But for some reason, I had his leash on, when, Desoto lunges and then dives for something that is right next to the trail. Since it is the middle of winter, I guess my reaction time is a little slow, because what he lunged for was a skunk. In the middle of February. Don't skunks frakking hibernate? Well, apparently, this one didn't get the memo, because it was on the loose and the big stupid dog and I got sprayed right in the face. Well, Desoto got it right in the face, I got it mostly on my left side, since I was a little behind him. Then we both threw up. I really don't recommend getting sprayed by a skunk right in your face, because it is quite unpleasant. It burns, so your eyes and nose run like crazy and if you don't get sick, you obviously have a stronger stomach than I do.

Desoto, while a very nice, pretty dog, is no Lassie. If I ever fall down a well, he is not going to be much help to anyone who might be looking for me. He would be more like, "Walk! Kitty! Treat! Walk! Who? Angela? Lazy bitch is down some hole and won't tke me for a walk. If you take me for a walk, I will be your best friend forever! Waaalllkkkk!"

Thanks to my not so bright, but impressive looking dog, I have now been sprayed by a skunk SIX times in three years. This time, since it is the middle of the damn winter, we could not get cleaned up outside and had to go inside, to the shower. This means that now my whole house smells like skunk too. Skunk smell takes a really long time to go away, so every time I come home, its like walking into a wall of skunk. Gross.

I went to work on Monday, smelling like skunk, because I had an interview. Wouldn't you like to have a job interview when you smell so pretty? I am sure I was memorable, at least. My poor co-workers, while either holding their breath or snickering under it, have all been sitting as far from me as is physically possible. I did offer to go home, if anyone found me too offensive, but they all assured me that as long as they didn't get within about 5 feet of me, I was almost bearable. It has faded a little each day, and just today, someone told me that she could almost not smell me. Yay.

To add insult to injury, I was watching the Westminster Dog Show all weekend, and watching all those pretty, shiny dogs, all I could think was, "I bet they don't smell like skunk!"