Tuesday, May 11, 2010

DAY 2..my first reaction. The story of my hands....

Well, I have decided to get the worst one over with. I guess a week long blog should have some sort of order right?! So I will start with my very first allergic reaction to citrus. It's a question that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I have decided to stop asking how this happened. I have done an absolutely ridiculous amount of research and have been to so many doctors, but I have yet to get an answer. So with that being said, I have to let it go. I will never know if the trauma of my hands caused this allergy or if on July 10th 2008, my body woke up and said..."Ya know what Jan....we are done"

It was one of the most wonderful weekends of my life. Helping my sister prepare for her wedding. A beautiful beach house right outside of San Diego. My whole family was there for a great celebration. My future brother in law and his family were helping us ring in the new couple as well. Just a big weekend of fun. It was the afternoon on a Thursday and I was just squeezing limes for some homemade margaritas. After that I was out on the beach for a bit with my cousins, then off to the bachelorette party. Everything was going great! The next morning was when the wedding craziness began. By that night, on the way home from the rehearsal dinner, I remember sitting in the back seat of Dan's car looking at my hands. They looked chapped. I remember thinking "what a weird sun burn" I put some cortizone cream on them and went to bed. In the morning the pink had turned into red, but it was wedding day. As the day flew by, I barely had time to think about the discoloration of my hands. By the time the vows were said, dinner was served and drinks were poured, the red had turned into purple. I, being the maid of honor had to give a speech and I was so nervous. I told one of my uncles how I was freaking out about talking in front of everyone, his response "Jan don't worry, no one will even be looking at you, they are just going to be staring at your weird purple hands!" At that point it was a joke, a weird bizarre thing that we were all laughing at. When I woke up the next morning the joke started to get a bit strange. My right hand was swollen a bit and there were tiny little blisters forming. Within hours the tiny blisters had grown from little to big, my left hand had began to swell and the few blisters and turned into hundreds.

I had to get back to Atlanta that night. At that point my brother in law and sister were in charge. He is a doctor and loaded me up with steroids and benedryl. My sweet sister who was so scared and worried wrapped my disgusting hands up in the most beautiful pink scarf. I didn't want anyone to see them. And trust me, no one would have wanted to sit next to those things on a plane. I had to get assistance to my seat. Someone had to buckle me in. I just sat there for over four hours. I could feel them getting worse. The pain was so horrible and although I was so thankful they were wrapped up, the fabric felt like fire against my skin. I got off the plane and Nathan was waiting for me. I looked terrible and felt worse. I begged him to take me home to my dogs. It was 5 am and I just wanted to wait until my doctors office was open. After pleading with me he agreed. Before we left the airport he asked if he could see my hands.I slowly unwrapped them and what was underneath was the most horrendous sight I have ever seen. He open the door to his car and immediately got sick. I went into shock. I don't remember the drive to the hospital, we were suddenly there. I walked in and was thrown into a room, stripped down, hooked to an IV and had two doctors and three nurses by my side. I don't know what is scarier, being in the emergency room or being seen that quickly in the emergency room. My memory of the next few hours, actually the next few weeks are a bit faded.....thank god. I remember being asked a million questions, I remember a nurse crying as she unwrapped my second hand, seeing that is was worse then the first. I remember being told I had third degree chemical burns on both of my hands. I remember Nathan standing over me praying as teared streamed down my face when the doctors told me they hand to clean my hands, in between the blisters. I remember Nathan having to leave the hospital room as I started screaming in pain as my hands were emerged into water. Then I blacked out.

I don't know what happened next. I was on so many drugs and my body was completely shut down, my mind was completely gone. I called my bosses to tell them I had been in an accident, but I don't think anyone realized how extreme it was. And we still didn't know how this had happened. My next memory is going to the burn doctor....days later. My hands had been wrapped up since and I couldn't wait to take the bandages off and let them breath. But as soon as she took me out of my slings, braces and gauze, reality had finally struck. My hands were worse. They were bigger and there were more blisters. I couldn't differentiate my one finger from the next. They honestly looked like lobster claws. Again, I lost it and Nathan and another nurse had to leave the room. The doctor hugged me and promised me she would do whatever to make this process easy. PROCESS?! I wanted it to be over, and soon, what did she mean by process. She continually asked me about the limes I had squeezed, I had no idea why. She wrapped me back up and tried her hardest to calm me down. She informed me of what to expect. Pain being number one. Soaking them twice a day for ten minutes. Always keep the wrapped, definitely scarring, possible nerve damage. Then I informed her that I was a hairstylist and her face fell to the ground. At the time I just assumed she felt sorry for me, but looking back I wonder if she knew then what I know now. My hair days were never going to be the same.

I didn't have hands. I couldn't feed myself. I couldn't drive. I couldn't put in my contacts. I couldn't bathe myself. I couldn't pet my dogs. I couldn't take care of myself. Thank god for good people. I remember friends cleaning my house, cooking me dinner, walking the pugs, giving me a bath and doing all the the everyday tasks that I could no longer do. And all I did was sleep and cry. Some of those tears from the pain, but mainly from the overwhelming feeling of incompetence. These days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. I slept....A LOT. I cried...A TON. But mostly I just sat and wondered what on earth happened and would I ever be able to feel skin, hair, grass, sand, my pugs again? Would I have feeling? What would they look like? How long would this last? I don't remember exactly how long this went on. The gross stages of healing happened very slowly but at least they were happening. Every morning and every night we would unwrap, look and sigh, soak, then wrap back up. I missed things. So many things. My friends, my work, my family but mainly myself. I was depressed and each day that passed, mentally I was getting worse. I know everyone who was in my life during that time saw the change. Not just with my hands but with me. I couldn't understand what happened and why my body had done this to me. I felt betrayed. And since this incident I have never been the same Jan I used to be.

Slowly things got back to normal although I will never be the same. My hands healed amazingly. I love them, they are gorgeous. I am very over protective of them and they are never under appreciated. Even now, if I go into an allergic reaction, I am constantly checking on them to make sure they are ok. They are my favorite part of my body! I still have nightmares, still have flashbacks and still can not explain the thought process of what was going on in my head during this. It wasn't until one day I put a piece of orange in my mouth and my whole face blew up into a red hive that sent me to the hospital which lead me to an allergist. I was now severely allergic to citrus, so allergic the first testing was stopped in the middle because my body was freaking out so badly. I do remember sitting in the allergist office, laughing to keep from crying as I thought...all of that. All of that pain and all of that worry. All of those months sitting there while weak and broken. All of my self that was lost and will never be recovered. All of that happened from a freaking lime.

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