Victor Davis Hanson
Oh, the self-delusions we buy into at the razor’s edge! (Right before my appendix ruptured in Libya, I kept telling myself that I had “torn a muscle,” nothing more.)
Only the antihistamine didn’t work. Nor did I take a Zyrtec on top of it. Nor a Pepcid. (Yes, I know the venom was working fast, the pills slowly.)
The world started spinning much faster. I began losing vision again. I was breathing only through my nose and poorly so.
I fell flat. I called my wife at work, 30 miles away. I fainted. Woke up again. She called 911. She calmly said, “You are having anaphylaxis. I am calling 911. I will meet you in 25 minutes at the local ER.” And that was that.
I still thought, “an entire day shot” (She later said, ” Was that such a small price for something more shot?).
I drifted out a bit again and woke up, maybe a minute later (so it felt like, psychodramatically, but I wager it was only a few seconds).
Five minutes later, I crawled to the door to meet the paramedics and made it outside to the steps. An especially calm and polite woman of about 25 was in charge.
I suggested to the three of them that I could ride it out, whatever it was that had happened, since after all, I was awake again.
They ignored that and were already inspecting my back, chest, legs, and face. They were already taking my blood pressure and pulse—all in minutes after arrival.
They very calmly announced, “You are having an anaphylaxis. Did you eat something or get stung? We are putting you on a gurney, treating you in the ambulance, and taking you to the ER.”
I mumbled “bee or wasp, I think,” and slightly protested. But I was so dizzy, cold, and weak, I nodded.
Within five minutes, I was hooked up to an IV inside the firetruck. She injected me with an EpiPen of adrenaline. I got a Benadryl injection and then a steroid. Abruptly, my heart rate plunged back down to 80. My blood pressure rose to 100/50.
I was now finally fully awake.
They rolled me into the ER. In ten minutes, the doctor was there with another adrenaline shot, another Benadryl injection, an injection of Pepcid, one of Zyrtec, and a big shot of prednisone. I protested, “Enough already.”
And they smiled and said, “You were lucky, but you are still in an allergic state.”
In one hour, after all the injections, the welts began to deflate. Modern medicine, for all its hazards, can be blessed.
In two hours, the redness was fading into pink.
In three hours, I could hear again and breathe normally.
In four hours, I was on the way home with prescriptions for EpiPens, antihistamines, and steroids.
In five hours, I was completely wiped out, but with “normal” vitals.
That night I was completely deflated with zero energy, and confused whether the crushing fatigue and achiness was due to: 1) vestigial bee venom still activating a histamine response, 2) still circulating histamine from the rush of two days ago, 3) the ER/hospital effects of prednisone, and multiple doses of antihistamines and adrenaline, 4) the three-day prescription of rather strong steroids and more antihistamines to prevent another episode, 5) the wear and tear of a racing heart, sinking blood pressure, dropping body temperature, and violent rashes, 6) a snap back to long Covid that I had finally conquered just weeks earlier, 7) all of the above, 8) or none of the above, just the normal 3–4 day recovery period and back to post-Covid euphoria next week?
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Yep, six weeks ago I received a prescription of Celebrex in preparation for my second hip replacement. I went to AI and looked it up. Allergic reactions it read are very rare. Down it went. The next morning out came the red army from my forehead to the midsection of my chest, down my arms and into random areas on the rest of my body. If you are on television, Victor, my grandchildren think you are me. (We have similar physiognomy and are one year apart in age, me being the elder.) Not that morning or the for the following month. My eyes were swollen and beady and my cheeks, now fat jowls, made me look like a bloodhound. Two weeks ago, I had my left hip replaced. The next morning, I fainted from lack of nutrition, sleep, but not a lack of anesthesia. Got to check a ride in an ambulance off my bucket list. So it goes at 73 years of age.