Allergic Epiphany

It all started long ago, but culminated while on an appointment with the allergist/immunologist. After suffering through three ear infections in the past year and coughing like TB patient for weeks, a kind soul at work gave me the name of her doctor. While being poked and pinched for exposure to indoor allergens, the nurse put on a video to educate me about prevention and avoidance. The video was clearly a paid advertisement for sellers of mattress covers, air filters, vacuum cleaners, and hard flooring. A medical eminence consulted on the video and spoke about the effects on the immune system of constant exposure to irritants and harmful substances. Turns out that your immune system system is on "high alert" all the time, becoming less effective at fighting other intruders and miscreant cells. After having copious amounts of decongestant and a scope up my nose I was given steroids and sent on my way. I am allergic to mold and dust mite poop. The video of the resident evil, the tiny mites, who thrive in carpeting, bedding, and pillows and leave behind their irritating waste was horrifying. We have a basement and a high water table so I can't escape the mold either. I left the doctor's office itchy and indignant after having yet one more orifice explored and agitated from the decongestant. The steroids did little to improve the situation. Heart pounding and ears swishing with the sound of blood pumping through my head I returned to work only to be sent home. I felt horrible and scared.


For a long time my readiness state has wavered between DEFCON 2 and 1. The stress of a decade of loss, grief, pain and illness has had me at a point of surrender many, many times. In some situations neither fight nor flight seem like good options but the adrenaline flows nonetheless. Perhaps to my detriment, I have not learned yet to give up. The blame falls neatly at my parents' feet; they failed to teach me to bow down, submit or surrender. My dad once told me that when life knocks you down; you get up, breathe in and out, put one foot in front of the other and keep going. I was in high school at the time, and remember that moment vividly. My mom didn't quite verbalize the sentiment, instead, she lived it. She still does.

Even while I wallow in shit, from dust mites and my lot in life, I take comfort in the example of my parents and in Scripture.

But now, this is what the LORD says—
   he who created you, Jacob,
   he who formed you, Israel:
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
   I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
   I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
   they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
   you will not be burned;
   the flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am the LORD your God,
   the Holy One of Israel, your Savior;"
~Isaiah 43:1-3

And, yes, I know that "shit" and "Scripture" don't look pretty in the same sentence. But I can't get through one without the other.