“…sitting and waiting is one of the most miserable occupations known to man – not that it usually is known to men; women do it much more often.”
― Diana Gabaldon, Dragonfly in Amber
I waited 16 days for Nico’s appointment with the allergist. I monitored every crumb before it passed his lips. I stared at him while he chewed. I asked him how he was feeling and checked on him while he slept. I was very, very annoying.
One night, after I researched and called corporate headquarters, we went out for frozen yogurt. I barked instructions the entire time and made my patented Kermit Scrunch Face at the rogue peanut butter cup in the blackberry bin. I double-checked the ingredients and sat down in front of Nico empty handed. No yogurt for me that night; they were out of my favorite plain/original (of course my favorite is plain/original) and, besides, feasting on unrelenting anxiety was far more satisfying.
“Would you relax,” said the Mister, as my eyes made a 5th pass over Nico’s mouth, neck, the tips of his ears.
“I’ll relax on July 22nd when we know what happened,” was all I said.
We don’t know what happened. We know that his skin scratch test came back 100% negative for all tested food: milk, wheat, soy, eggs, seafood, and all the nuts expect pine nuts. Since he has a history of pine nut allergy, we went ahead and tested his blood for that. We also tested him for all the other rare allergies (including meat) and systemic mastocytosis. Those results we get in another 7-10 days.
Nico has been fine since the 6th of July. It’s like I’ve heard from so many people already–he went into anaphylaxis, we don’t know what caused it, and we don’t know if it will happen again. It’s not a comfortable place to be right now, but Nico is a trooper and I’m his rabid bulldog. We’ve got this.
The other day the boys and the Mister went and got yogurt without me. Mikey reported on the evening.
“Well, mom,” he said. “Dad and I took Nico to yogurt and we survived! I’ve never been so stressed in my life. Luckily, I didn’t have to ask Nico how he was feeling because Dad took care of that for me.”
“Oh? Dad asked Nico how he was feeling?”
“Every five minutes. Like clockwork!”
“Really. You don’t say…”
“Mom,” Nico said, joining in the conversation. “I thought Dad was going to have a heart attack!”
Poor Nico. Flanked by not one, but two rabid bulldogs.