Due to a change in the symptoms, Scott's now guessing beef contamination in last night's dinner. That's a relief in one way, because it means nobody else is going to get sick, and upsetting in another way because that makes this an allergy reaction.
He's added benadryl to the peptobismol he already took and is trying to nap through the worst of the experience. He describes this part as feeling like sandpaper in his veins.
I always worry when this happens, a couple of times a year, that this is going to be the time when the reaction crosses into the truly dangerous. I haven't been able to bully Scott into keeping his epi-pen prescription current (or into carrying the damned thing with him. It sits in the medicine cabinet where it will do damn all if he has trouble when we're not at home. I could put it in my purse, but that would only help if I'm with him), and I can't rush him to the ER if there's a problem requiring rapid response.
I also end up pushing away a lot of other worries in this situation. The idea of losing Scott while Cordelia's still a child really terrifies me. I'm not sure that, given my disabilities, she and I could continue living independently, and that's without looking at finances. I expect that I'd find a way to make things work and to avoid having to move in with my in-laws or my parents, but.... That's the kind of subject on which it is utterly possible for me to catastrophize.
::sighs:: If it came to that, I'd probably bully my brother into moving in with us. He keeps saying that he wants to go to nursing school here at the U. He'd miss Kalamazoo and his whiffleball league, though.
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