Getting the EpiPen
When the doctor sits you down and says the words “severe
food allergy”, be ready to hear another important word. EpiPen. Now, there are
different brands (Auvi-Q, Adrenaclick, generic versions, and so on) but they
all are basically the same thing- epinephrine auto injectors. They give out a
measured dose of epinephrine (adrenaline) to help blood circulate and open the airway
that may start to close off in an episode of anaphylaxis (severe allergic
reaction). The day our son’s
allergies were confirmed, we had to go to the doctor for a prescription for an
EpiPen and for training on using the device. I had envisioned EpiPen training
to be something like CPR training with dummies to practice on and having to
memorize facts and steps to repeat back to the doctor before becoming
“certified.” I thought maybe there was a workbook to fill out proving you
understood all important vocabulary related to allergies and anaphylaxis. No. Not at all how it goes. The doctor hands
us a training EpiPen, a DVD, and a prescription and sends us on our way. I start thinking, “This DVD must just be
really thorough and cover EVERYTHING I’d ever have a question about.” No. Not
at all how it looks. The DVD only lasts about one minute and doesn't even show
someone giving a child an EpiPen injection. Regardless, we go to the pharmacy
and they hand it over, our magic wand. The thing I EXPECT to save my child’s
life when someone makes a mistake.
The Fear of Needing It
A few months go by. I carry it around with us everywhere. I
never leave it in the car (to be sure it is not ruined by extreme temperatures).
I practice with the training pen on
myself many times to try and be comfortable with the thought of injecting my
child. I need it near me all the time. I dream about our son eating peanuts and
having a reaction. I dream about people trying to give us food with nuts in it.
I once had a dream I found him sitting in a closet surrounded by Baby Ruth
candy bars and having them all over his face. Now, is it likely that he will
be left alone long enough to find a whole closet full of a candy bars we don’t
even allow in our home? No. The dreams may not be real but the worry of
exposure is very real to me.
A Magic Wand No More
It wasn't that long ago that a story hit the news about a
young girl, 13 years old, who died of a severe allergic reaction to peanuts. The
story made me cry nearly every day for a long time. I kept trying to find an
answer to why she died. The story is so unsettling because her father is a
doctor and was there to give her three EpiPens, and she still died. She didn't
swallow the food because she tasted that it might have peanut butter in it, and
she still died. Her family followed all the rules they had been taught, and she
still died. As soon as I read their
story I thought, I don’t want to do this. I don’t want go through this if there
is no magic wand or eraser for all mistakes.
Of course, I don’t really have a choice. I have to do my best
and teach others how to care for my child. I have to keep toting around this
injector, hoping it will work when I need it to help save his life. I pray I
will never need to use it. I normally hate to “waste” things I buy, but with
EpiPens, I sure hope I “waste” $250 again and again and again for the rest of
his sweet life.
Mistakes Mean I’m
Human…And That’s Not Good Enough
I recently went to register my child’s EpiPen online when I
realized they would send me emails when they expire and need replaced. The shelf life of an EpiPen is about 12 months, so it can be easy to forget to replace them on time. Sounded great!
Problem is…wait what!? Mine were already expired, and I only had them for 4
months! How did I let this happen? Why did the pharmacy give me pens with only
1/3 of their life left? I felt the weight of responsibility and hated that I
missed something so very important. The pharmacy was helpful in fixing the
problem and issued me new EpiPens at no charge. In the end I learned a
valuable lesson about checking the expiration dates before leaving the
pharmacy. As I left with
new EpiPens in hand, I sighed a bit of relief knowing we were prepared. The
pharmacist looked me in the eyes and said, “I hope you never have to use this.”
I felt as if I were a soldier returning to war, armed but not at all ready for
the unknown.
I hope and pray this will not be what takes my child from
this world. I pray for a miracle. I pray that a cure is found. I pray that
someone will pinpoint the cause so the numbers stop rising. I pray for all
peanuts to vanish from the earth (ok, not really, but it would be nice). I pray
that I never make a mistake and that those who care for my kid will understand
the importance of keeping these foods away from my child. I pray that I won’t
live to see the day my child leaves this world and that that day will not happen
until he is old and gray and has lived a long and wonderful life working hard
for the Lord. But I can’t guarantee that any of these things will happen, and I
hate that. I have no control. All I can do is pray and prepare and spread the
word…the rest I put into God’s hands- hoping He will watch over my little one
and keep him safe. I guess that’s what parents are supposed to do anyway,
right? Trust God. Give their children to the Lord. Understand that we as humans
are faulty and fallen and make mistakes. We make peace with our brokenness and
lean on our Savior to carry us the rest of the way.
