SUNDAY, 10:30 PM: We just finished cleaning up from Junior's christening party when I started to itch. Not a mosquito bite itch or even a poison ivy itch, but that all over itch that says something's wrong. A flurry of prep to get me to the hospital (calling for neighbors to watch the house and kids, getting changed to go out, dosing up with Benadryl) all the while I can watch my skin turn red and burn with the urge to scratch and scratch and scratch.\
I sit in the ER waiting room and try to thumb through the Sunday ads with fingertips swollen like cooked sausages. When I tell them I can feel my tongue starting to puff up, I'm moved to the top of the list. Maybe 20 minutes has passed since the first itch became noticeable. Vitals and a statement are taken, them I'm told to go across the hall to emergency care and wait to be called. The Benny D has kicked in but it the urge to scratch still comes in waves. I shudder like I have a high fever.
I'm given an IV line by the very same staff who saw this in me in October (cause: unknown). An adrenaline shot has my heart beating like a trip hammer while the IV Benadryl is trying to throw me into unconsciousness. Very awkward feeling. My moments of consciousness jump in fits and starts like the brief glimpse of a work light seen through a passing train. My wife waits patiently for what to do next and tells me she loves me. I return the phrase with a smile and drift off. She is told maybe 20 minutes more before I can go.
I vaguely remember being moved into the ER (emergency care closes at 11). I'm stuck in the hallway with little more than passing patient traffic to keep me company. A clock nearby tells me it's quickly approaching 2 AM and no one seems to even notice I want to find out what's happening to me. Finally a nurse takes vitals and finds everything to be in order. The red welts on my wrists and elbows are little more than faded splotches of color. A second nurse tells me they called the missus, but no one answered. A doctor has me sign some forms, hands me a few scrips and sets me free.
In not the most lucid of states, but I figure waking the wife and kids for what amounts to three blocks of driving at 2 AM is just ludicrous. So, armed with a fistful of discharge papers, my ID bracelet and little else, I make the walk home. The town is serenely beautiful at this hour. Sprinklers flood the lawn at the fire department. A lone car honks at me almost cheerily. Workers use a leaf blower to clean out the corners of a parking lot before the sweeper collects the detritus. I listen to the buzz of parking lot lamps and the raspy grind of katydids. The missus is less than enthused to see me after knowing what I did, but delighted to have me home at the same time.
