You may have noticed from the photo, I had allergy testing done today. Just a head’s up that #3 is cat dander. Number 2, equally as angry-looking, is cat fur. They don’t need a number for cat attitude, which would also be angry-looking. Ba-rum-pum. I gotta a million of ’em.
The last time I had allergy testing, I was twenty. It turned out very much the same, actually. I have more to do because I’m having a reaction to anti-inflamatories like ibuprofen. It’s a different kind of test that takes, like, four hours. Crazy.
In the meantime and forevermore, we’ll have to do something about our cats sleeping in our room. (Sad face!)
For me, that means not allowing the cats to sleep on my face. My husband uses a C-Pap for snoring, so they stay away from his face. Me? You may remember the great french-kiss debacle from our Hannah. Picture this face, nose-to-nose in the dark, licking the inside of your mouth. There ya go. French kisses from my cat.
But that’s not the part I want to talk about. I want to talk about a surprise test that – had I known about it beforehand – would have kept me in a perpetual state of anxiety until it occurred.
Two things you need to remember about me.
1. I have significant health anxiety.
1.5. I have significant anxiety-anxiety.
2. I have lifelong asthma.
Okay, so… I’m in the room, prattling on about my allergies and all the millions and millions of pills I take daily for everything from acid reflux to hypertension to migraine. I’m picking at my nails because that’s what I do. You know, anxiety.
I was told not to take my allergy meds for a week, my preventative asthma inhaler for a day, so I’m dabbing at my nose and taking kinda gulpy breaths. I actually talked about my asthma yesterday. Anyway, I had no idea I’d be talking about my asthma today. Never put the two things (allergies + asthma) together. I know – don’t tell me – I’m a dummy.
So, the nurse says, “We’re going to be doing pulmonary tests today” and I say, “Okay,” like it’s the most natural thing on earth. Inside, I’m totally freaking out. “Today is the day I find out I have COPD,” I said to myself. “They’re going to find I’m only breathing 20%”… 20% what?… don’t ask me. I don’t even know what I was measuring.
Bottom line: I’m dying. They’re going to find out and today is the day.
As a side-note, you can see how this kind of anxiety could be debilitating. Had I had three weeks to think about this, I would have found a reason not to go. I would have taken a Xanax. I would have done a bunch of things, all of them not good. But I didn’t have that luxury.
Although… once… the dentist said they were going to do something I wasn’t expecting… and I got up from the chair and left. I mean, I said goodbye… of course… but I didn’t let them do whatever it was.
Hey, it’s been known to happen.
I’ve also left full carts in aisles at the market, cancelled plans at the last minute, cried in the driveway because it was snowing and I was afraid to drive, called in sick as an addendum to that last thing… and assorted other things to appease my out-of-control anxiety.
But nothing beats “Doing it afraid”.
I was scared shitless and I did the pulmonary test anyway. I did it! And, I don’t have COPD… I have… ta da… asthma. It’s mostly controlled. Yeah, I coulda told you that! Except I couldn’t, as described above.
So, I’m not dying. At least, not right now. And I feel kind of amazing.