A good family friend once said, after visiting his in-laws, "I just play circus music in my head and everything makes sense."
And let me tell you, friends, he was exactly right.
The weekend started out normal enough. Instead of mowing the lawn and doing some much needed yard work, we shirked our responsibilities and went to dinner with my parents.
They always call at precisely the right time.
They took us to a country diner they'd discovered on an out-of-the-way road. We were going to ride together in our minivan, but I gave that idea up when I remembered that I have to sit between two of my kids in the last row.
We sat down in the cozy diner. I knew it was going to be good food because there was a sign near the door that said "Welcome to the Country, Y'all." I was amongst friends.
We ordered chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes with cream gravy, green beans soaked in bacon fat, fried okra, sweet tea and yeast rolls. Can I get a hearty Amen, please?
My dad ordered some amazing onion rings to start us off. Because we are all about The Health.
There were buckets of raw, salted peanuts on the table (I ate a fistful).
"Is she okay with peanuts?" my dad asked and pointed to my two year old trying to open one with a fork.
"Oh yeah, we're all good," I retorted, because I've never been good at foreshadowing.
And those, my dear blog readers, were nearly my last words. Except that I like to talk, so they weren't.
Our main course came and we cleaned up some dishes, y'all. Thank you, Jesus. While licking my fingers clean, I kept noticing an irritating itch on my neck. I scratched a little and ate a little. Appetizing, huh?
The itch grew worse. (My mom later told me she noticed a bazillion raised bumps all over my face and neck, but she didn't want to point them out in case I'd eaten too much chocolate for breakfast or something. I think she felt bad, but I assured her I would have lost my appetite completely if she'd commented on my pox-marked face while I was sucking the last bit of bacon juice from my green beans.)
The entire way home, I itched and scratched. I noticed the strange changes in my face in the mirror, but it wasn't until I got home that I noticed my lips were tingling. My hubby helped me find the Benadryl and I took too much. Because if you are DYING, a little extra can only help.
I waited a few minutes and consulted with my Mom who is the closest to medical personnel in the family (she had two years of nursing school but had my brother instead). We called the pharmacist and he said the medicine should do it.
It didn't. A lump the size of my toddler's head formed in the back of my throat and my tongue tingled just like my lips.
My hubby stayed with my kids and my Mom took me to the Emergency Room. Yes, the one where everybody knows our name.
They hooked me up and noted a very high blood pressure, told me I'd taken too much Benadryl, and started giving me a load of medicine. The handsome doctor who smelled of good hand soap ticked off his questions and concluded that I was allergic to something.
He was a genius, y'all.
We determined that it had to be the raw peanuts (sometimes they are preserved with something that has been known to cause similar allergies, which makes sense since I'm on a first named basis with the peanut butter cup and have never nearly died from them).
I'm taking some steroids, have a couple of EpiPens nearby and I'm playing circus music in my head.
It just goes along with the peanuts, ya know?
Have y'all ever heard of an adult onset allergy to peanuts? Have you had a similar experience? Do tell.