I had an allergy appointment.

They did the standard asthma test.

The doctor talked to me.

Then they re-did the asthma test.

Then they nebulized me. Mmmmmm, albuterol. Enter the super-fast heart rate, shaking hands and headache.

Then I coughed so hard for a half an hour that I was actually sweating from exertion. This is the first time in weeks I’ve been physically able to cough effectively- so there was a lot of crap to move out of my lungs. I coughed so hard that the doctor got up from her patient to check on me personally in the waiting room just to make sure that I wasn’t dying. Because I sounded like I was.

Then they re-did the asthma test. On which I scored much better. Because I could breathe.

Then the doctor tells me, “your first results were so low I figured the test was wrong because I’ve never seen anyone getting so little air looking so good, but after all this- clearly, you have severe asthma!”

So apparently, it requires very little air for me to look fine. And I have severe asthma. But I look fine, and that is always a plus, right?

We’re not sure if it is always this bad, or it being the height of allergy season makes it extra bad right now. We’ll know in a few months.

Until then, I’m supposed to take this bucket load of drugs. There is a major dose of steroids to hopefully shock my body out of the allergic response (itching, anyone?). These make me feel like my throat and skin is on fire; literally it’s a five hour hot flash and I’m supposed to take the pills every four hours, so IT NEVER STOPS, except when chills, dizziness and clamminess break through. Cold sweat running down your shoulder blades is oddly soothing when you feel like you’re in the belly of a fire breathing lizard.

There is also a little purple puffer filled with more steroids that I’m supposed to breath every morning and night. This one is really fun. My hands shake. My stomach muscles jump involuntarily. And, not only do I get an instant migraine headache, but my heart starts racing as if I were being chased by a bear. A rabid, angry bear who’s porridge got peed in. My brain tries to keep up with this new, improved 130 beats per minute resting heart rate, and ends up stuttering and making no sense whatsoever. This leaves me neurotic and cranky. Add it to the hot flash and you just developed the perfect recipe for Stewed Witch.

If I want to really get hit with these symptoms, the emergency albuterol inhaler can get me this drugged in only one quick puff. The only benefit is: it does work. And that’s good. Since I take it only when I can’t breathe, I’m more able to forgive the associated misery if I get to breathe.

Now, the Singulair is also new, and I have no idea if it has any weird side effects because the rest of the weird side effects are making me unable to notice anything else short of purple spots or hallucinations.

The Zyrtec I really do love, because that has given me no side effects except the brilliant ability to touch my cat without wanting to claw my eyes out. Now, my nose still runs, and my skin still crawls with itchiness, but MY EYES! They’re OK! And that’s really something to be grateful for.

I am calling the doctor in the morning. I’m done with the steroids. It just ain’t happening.

I think dying would just be easier.