So last night it happened.
I went out for a perfectly lovely meal with my partner at a local fine dining restaurant. I was good and avoided gluten, enjoying a prawn and crayfish cocktail followed by a roast chicken main and accompanied by a glass or two of Rose. Absolutely delicious.
I made the boyfriend drive home as the wine had gone straight to my head, or so I thought…
Sitting on the sofa waiting for The Boy to join me to watch The Walking Dead, I surfed Facebook.
Very quickly I noticed my hand was itchy and when I looked there were red blotches on the back of it. So I rolled up my sleeve, more red blotches. I pulled off my jumper and called for The Boy. My chest and shoulders looked like I had spent all day in the sun without the appropriate protection as, it turned out, did my back and face. My top lip looked botoxed and the scars on my stomach were red raw.
Now I’m no Violet Beauregarde, and I’d skipped dessert to be good, so why on earth did I now resemble a giant raspberry?
The Boy called 111 before I had even finished removing my jeans (my legs remained milky white so all good there, although a tan wouldn’t go amiss). After speaking to a couple of Operators/Clinicians they confirmed what I thought. I’d had an allergic reaction to something and told me I would need to see an out of hours Dr.
Seriously! Don’t they know Tasha is hauled up with Negan doing the bad and Rick is about to unleash his inner Brit on the woman’s colony. Come on. This is important stuff.
So, rummaging through my apothecary, I get the call that I have an appointment at 11.40, that’s 11.40pm! It only half eight. Should I expect V.B. syndrome to last that long? Really? Hell no. Thanks very much but no thanks. ‘I’m very sorry,’ I explain. ‘I have to be up at 5. That’s far too late. I’ll be in bed.’ Instead I am told a Dr will call me. No-one told me it would be at 11.30pm, a time at which I’d made it quite clear I would be in bed.
I hit the Piriteze, watched some Zombies get their brains blown out and hit the sack.
Of course by the time the Dr called I was a) Asleep and b) Happily no longer a walking raspberry!
I now sit here wondering what had caused me to react in such a way. I’ve had the starter at that restaurant before and there was nothing in the main that should have caused that.
I guess I must have magically developed an allergy to something I’d eaten. Apparently this can happen, especially when your immune system is compromised, as it certainly is at the moment with this horrible cold (which also needs a name; yes, I’m calling it the Snot Monster).
So I guess it’s a trip to see my GP to request an allergy test. I really hope it’s not the shellfish as I LOVE prawns and shrimp and lobster and crab and scallops and… well… you get the idea.
In the meantime I’ll be carrying a box of Piriteze in my bag at all times, just in case.
Now, what shall I have for lunch? Mmm, scampi n chips…
Today I said goodbye to the Jo whose favorite food was Salmon and Sushi. She has to be left behind. Dr’s orders. No Seafood until my blood test results come back. He completely agreed with the diagnosis of shellfish allergy and has ordered blood test to confirm both that and my gluten intolerance, and I have another pill to add to my apothecary; a strong antihistamine to be taken for at least a month. Apparently sudden onset allergies are linked to my other nemesis but more on those when I’m ready.