THE LONG COLD SUMMER

At the beginning of the summer I had two seemingly healthy kids who didn’t have a care in the world. Well, actually Arden had developed an unhealthy fear of germs, thanks to her second grade health class, and Alex had developed a case of separation anxiety after getting lost in the mall. Other than that, they seemed perfectly happy and healthy. That was until we stopped off at Yogurtland one afternoon and Alex said her teeth hurt. When we got into the car it wasn’t it her teeth that were bothering her anymore, it was her tongue. It was getting bigger. And so were her lips. She thought it was funny. I thought I was going to shit my pants. Off we rushed to the emergency room.

“Thanks” to Alex’s anaphylactic reaction we were hurried in to see a doctor immediately where Alex was given a big ole cocktail of adrenaline, Benadryl and steroids. That did the trick, but she was kept under observation for the next five hours. During that time I was trying to figure out what she had eaten. She had several toppings on her frozen yogurt so maybe there was some cross-contamination with something she was allergic to. But what? The only thing we knew she was allergic to was penicillin and I was pretty sure there weren’t any penicillin-flavored gummy bears on her yogurt. At the end of the night we were told to avoid the typical allergy inducing foods such as chocolate and nuts and strawberries. They also gave us an Epipen because if Alex got another reaction before her system reset, “It could be bad.” Not the most reassuring words I’ve ever heard.

The next day went without incident until after dinner when I gave Alex a Popsicle and her lips started to swell. Back we went to the E.R.  Jen and I both scoured the ingredients of the Popsicle to see if there was a match with anything from Yogurtland. The only thing we found in common was guar gum, which is in basically everything – dairy, meat, baked goods, condiments. We thought it would suck if she were allergic to something like that. Little did we know it was worse. Meanwhile, while I sat in Children’s Hospital with Alex asleep in my arms and my iPhone battery dying by the second, I saw someone on Facebook suggest maybe she was allergic to the cold. The cold? There’s no way. But I looked it up. It was a real thing so I asked the doctor. He said WebMD was the worst thing to happen to hypochondriacs and parents alike. Unfortunately I’m both. He said she wasn’t allergic to the cold. But something inside me couldn’t help but wonder.

Two days later we went up to Lake Arrowhead for a quick family vacation. It was 115 degrees when we arrived so as soon as we checked into the resort we headed down to the lake for a quick dip. The water was chilly so the kids took their time wading into the lake. I watched Alex carefully and noticed she was starting to turn red where the water touched her legs. I pointed it out to Jen who took a closer look. Alex had red welts all over her legs. We told Alex to get out of the water but before she could she turned ghostly white and started to convulse and throw up. She was going into anaphylactic shock. Her organs were shutting down. But because we thought she had a food allergy the Epipen was miles away in the hotel room. So Jen rushed ahead with Arden while I carried Alex’s limp body up the side of the mountain. We eventually met in the parking lot where the valet gave us directions to the local hospital, ten miles away. Alex started to wretch again. Jen commanded me to use the Epipen. I’ll tell you, if you haven’t used one before, it’s not easy. It’s not the physical act of stabbing your child in the leg that’s difficult. It’s mental hurdle of the action. And I was told later that many parents can’t bring themselves to do it, even in a crisis. But I did it. And I instantly knew Alex’s lungs were working because I had never heard her scream so loud. We then tore off for the tiny mountain hospital where the doctor on call said it was a good thing I had that Epipen because, “It could’ve been bad.”

24 hours later we were at an allergist’s office back in Los Angeles where it was determined that Alex had a rare condition known as Cold Urticaria and Angioedema. She was allergic to the cold, which meant no more cold beverages, no more air conditioning. She could never swim in the ocean again or get caught in the rain. Our research showed that most people with this condition couldn’t walk past the cold aisle at the grocery store without breaking out. Our hearts were breaking by the second. The doctor wanted to put her on three different kinds of allergy medications for life and even then it wouldn’t totally prevent an outbreak or another case of anaphylaxis. Our world had been rocked. We would have to change the way we lived. And for the next few weeks the smallest things would cause her to break out. Her own wet hair after a bath would cause her to get welts on her forehead. Her own sweat cooling on her brow after running around at the park would cause her to break out. An orange from the refrigerator would make her face look like Heath Ledger’s Joker. And hearing Alex say things like, “When I can eat ice cream again…” would break our hearts even more because “when” would likely mean “never.” Our whole life was about to change, but still not even the way we expected. Because, Arden, not Alex, suddenly started to lose weight. It didn’t matter how much she ate, she was getting thinner. And her thirst was unquenchable. And then her hair started falling out. So we took her to the doctor only to find out she had developed Type 1 Diabetes.

Tomorrow: Part II