So I finished my Month of Thankfulness post & what do you know...the very last day of November I had another thing to be thankful for.
Of course, I should be thankful for that every day, but I kinda sorta figured that being alive was implied in the mere fact that I was grateful for the ability to enjoy the things I listed. It's pretty much a doesn't-have-to-be-said that I am thankful to be alive, like everyone else.
Last Saturday night, though, gratefulness got shoved right in my face & it smeared its thankful little body all over me.
On that fateful Saturday, hubby brought in our artificial Christmas tree, the one that I got a year ago & didn't put up until now, & together we laid out all the pieces. We sorted the branches on the floor & couch. We put the pieces together. We stood back & admired our beautiful tree.
Hubby put the lights on the tree. I had the bows & ribbons ready to go on after the kids decorated it with me the next day. We turned the lights on & sat down to watch a movie.
It was then that my skin felt like it was on fire. I took my shirt off & ask the hubs to scratch my back for me. He kinda sorta gasped & said my skin was bright red. And I kinda sorta panicked cuz I knew it was pretty gosh darn red if he could see it, since being color blind prevents him from seeing most shades of red. "Hmm. I wonder why it's so red & burning."
Hubby scratched my back & we tried to watch the movie anyway. Within seconds I suddenly couldn't breath right. It was like someone was holding the middle of my lungs shut & my breath was caught at the top of my lungs. I told hubby that it hurt to breath & he went online to see if fake tress have latex in them because that was the only thing that was new in our house for me to be having a reaction to. While he was still typing into the search engine, my difficulty breathing dramatically increased. I had a hard time telling him that I felt like a band was squeezing my lungs & I couldn't get a breath deeper than my throat, but I managed to stay calm & say, "This is bad. Come here."
Hubby grabbed an Epi-Pen & came at me. I was still sitting on the couch when he rammed that thick needle into my thigh, right through my pants. Ow.
Then we found out that not only are fake trees made with latex but when you turn the lights on, which we had, they release the latex into the air. And straight into my lungs, where it definitely should not be.
It only took 2 seconds & I was suddenly breathing again & the fire-red rash covering my arms & back was completely gone. Woot woot.
Then I lost it.
I bawled like a baby.
Hubby held me while I cried. He said I was so calm during it all that he had no idea it was as bad as it actually was. While he knew I was having a reaction that needed immediate attention, he didn't realize just how badly I was struggling to breath.
Yay for my "stay calm in emergencies" trait that everyone always comments on. Apparently even when the emergency is about me I can still remain calm in the situation so I can keep others calm.
I still get shaken over it, because I came so close to not being here any longer. I'm sure the Almira Gulch in my life is all upset reading this, thinking that I did not die last Saturday night, but hey girl, if you haven't figured out by now, you're not going to be rid of me. Bwahahaha<----that's my evil laugh
After the epinephrine fully absorbed into my system, it wasn't so easy to eat or drink. Hubby was absolutely no help either. He just sat there laughing as I'd pick my cup up & splash water all over myself & up my nose. I just wanted a sip of water<----that's my whiny voice
And knitting? Forget it. I stabbed myself with the knitting needles more than I actually got any stitches moving. By that point, knitting was more of a danger to the cats' eyballs & hubby's family jewels than it was a relaxing hobby for me. With as predictable as it was to know where those needles would end up after being violently launched out of my fingers from an Eddiquake, it wasn't worth the risk. Forget finding a doorway to stand under for an earthquake; when it's an Eddiquake, you assume the Junk Covering Position & tightly close your eyes.
Like your martini shaken & not stirred? Shoot me full of epi, put the shaker in my hand, & I'll do better than any Martini Mixing Machine at getting that mixed for ya.
So I'm thankful I'm alive & I'm equally as thankful for the life of the person that invented Epi-Pens.