Allergies and Ice Flowers

Approaching a diagnosis and a hard freeze

“Ouch, ouch, stop!” my daughter begged, as I held her on my lap facing me, arms pinned to her sides, while a nurse pressed four greasy “combs” covered in allergens into her back in rapid succession. Forty tiny pinpricks up and down her little spine, followed by green marker dots and numbers written down to keep track of it all. Then the hard part. Getting her not to scratch while the hives developed.

We were there for allergy testing, following an ER visit after a children’s birthday party. I’d already learned so much. She had allergic rhinitis that caused these deep grayish circles - allergic shiners - to appear under her eyes, and a whitish line across the bridge of her nose. Her hands had looked like they were dipped in ice water because of “twitchy mast cells,” set off by whatever environmental allergen she was exposed to. She’d gotten a bit delirious and hit her head due to the Benedryl I’d given her, which the ER doctor later said they don’t administer anymore, preferring Zyrtec due to “cognitive effects.” The allergist was a bit more blunt. “Zyrtec is the preferred medication, as is Flonase Sensimist nasal spray, because Benedryl crosses the blood/brain barrier in a way that has been associated with increased risk of dementia.”

As I mentally envisioned trashing the large bottle of children’s Benedryl I had at home (How in the heck are they even still selling such stuff if they know this now?!), I waited with my itchy hive-covered child for the next set of answers.

What might she be allergic to?

I had my suspicions. Dust, certain dogs, Parmesan and Romano cheese, something else as of yet undetermined.

She wasn’t tested for the hard cheese allergy, or any other foods. Only an environmental panel that contained lots of trees, certain grasses and weeds, dust mites and pets, and things I’m assuming to be various kinds of common mold.

The hives appeared on the sections of her lower back corresponding to two kinds of dust mites, dogs, cats, and hamsters.

My first thought was “hamsters, what?” and then “oh no, cats?! What about OUR cat??!”

I imagined giving away Tilly, the lovely gray and white Russian blue-tabby mix we’ve had for eight years, and knew in an instant that I’d do it for my child, if it needed to be done. But I certainly did not want to.

That was my first question to the allergist when she came into the room. What about our own cat? Thankfully she had comforting words. She said people with cat allergies usually have less of a reaction to their own cat than they do to other people’s cats, but we should still keep our cat out of our daughter’s bedroom and use a HEPA filter. Both of these things we already do. Or more like our cat keeps herself out of there. She kind of avoids our daughter, while regularly rubbing against our son. Maybe she isn’t just being catty and playing favorites. Maybe she quietly knows more than we do.

Anyway, after my daughter had had her back wiped off and a soothing anti-itch cream applied, she had questions.

Why are the scary looking dust mites in my bed? Can we make them go away? Why am I allergic to cute pets? If it’s dogs, does that mean even puppies?

We learned that the dust mites will be the most annoying thing to deal with. I’ll need to buy her anti-allergy mattress and pillow protectors, as well as make sure her bedding can all be washed on high heat weekly.

I felt bad for my poor kid, losing the piles of cute stuffed animals on her bed along with the ability to pet the real dogs being walked down our street. But her main concern was the nasal spray. She was quite sure she didn’t want anything squirted up her nose.

Later on at home she rubbed Tilly with her shirt sleeve. “See? I’m not touching her!” she said. I didn’t have the heart to explain that that’s not how this works, and the allergens were simply on her shirt sleeve now.

The next day, as I developed my plan of attack on the fluffy pillow sanctuary that is my little girl‘s bedroom, the ground froze over again. The backyard water feature fountain that my husband had happily turned on too early in the season developed a skin of ice overnight, ornate frost-flowers forming on the rain chain leading down to it.

Sometimes amazing things come out of events we don’t want.

I stood outside in a wrap sweater, unable to garden, and watched the sunlight filter through the melting ice flowers while my daughter was at school. I’d already emailed her teachers, called her primary care doctor’s office, ordered the new medications she needed. Now it was just adjusting to the reality. A reality I suspected she’d had, unbeknownst to us, since she was just a few months old.

I sifted through the mom guilt, remembering her whining and writhing through an eczema flareup at four months old, unable to sleep, these telltale dark half-moons on her face that I’d then innocently mistook for tiredness.

Tears formed in my eyes for the second time. I had gotten emotional in the allergist’s office too, at the end of our consult, as I thanked her for shedding light on the situation and giving us a name and game plan for what was going on. A fellow mom herself, and someone who’d told my daughter that she gets allergies too, I could tell she got it on something deeper than a professional level. She walked over and hugged me. I felt like my daughter was seen. I felt seen.

“You know you have allergies too,” she told me. “Your daughter inherited it from both of you.” I hadn’t considered this. In the intake interview I’d mentioned a couple paternal cousins with serious allergies, then told her offhand that my husband uses Claritin for springtime seasonal itchy eyes, and I use Flonase myself in winter time, finding I require a humidifier for sinus problems in the dry air.

So there was a lot to process. A lot to know and recontextualize. A lot to have questions about.

Some silver linings to find.

“You know,” I told my husband later, in a knowing tone, “having a dusty fieldstone basement isn’t in our best interest here. So I predict your cluttery disorganized ways will come to an end. You won’t keep things neater in this house and clean up your hoarder-level basement situation because I asked you to, but you’ll do it for your baby girl. You’ll do anything she needs. I can see it in your eyes. And she does need this from you.”

He just nodded. No lies told.

When my daughter came home from school she had another question. “Can I give people my germs from allergies? Winnie at school said I coughed on her and I was going to make her sick.”

I explained that she might have germs - this is why we don’t cough on people - but allergies are non-transferable. “My white blood cells are fighting them” she said. “Yes, I told her, because they don’t know they don’t need to fight them, that it’s not really dangerous. We don’t know why they decide to fight it anyway.” “Can we tell them not to?” she asked. “We haven’t figured out how to do that very well just yet,” I responded. “Sometimes your body grows out of it, but meantime we will give you medication to make you more comfortable, so you aren’t itchy all the time. That’s why I ordered you the nasal spray.”

On the way to the grocery store I stopped by the pharmacy, listening to my kid sniffle and issue fearful complaints against the impending mist assault to her nose from the back seat. Undeterred, I sat her on the edge of the car seat in the parking lot and showed her the nasal spray she had already told me she was afraid of. “No please, no” she begged, as I held her still and sprayed a bit up each nostril. I tried to be quick since she was now fighting me, making it about as difficult as medicating a cat.

As soon as it was done, I wiped away her tears and brought her inside. We had a whole list of food and extra cleaning supplies to buy before dinnertime and I was already mentally weighed down by it all.

About five minutes later I watched her start to dance to the beat of some song playing over the loudspeakers, her body suddenly light and full of joy. Mine lightened too.

“How do you feel?,” I asked, patting her on the shoulder while already imagining the answer. “Is the medicine working?!” “Yeah,” she said, sounding surprised as she breathed in deeply and calmly, “I’m feeling a lot better right now. The allergies aren’t stuck in there.”