Well This Is Just Swell
Chapter 15: Allergies, Illness, and Lunch
Once more, Hilery Davenport sat in the waiting room of Doc Appleby’s office. The kind doctor had called the day before requesting her to come in. It had been a week since her last appointment, but the allergist’s associate had cleared his schedule to come see her. Not only that, but Doc Appleby had the results of the blood work which he wanted to go over with her.
After fifteen minutes of waiting, Joy poked her head into the waiting room. “Hilery, come on back honey,” she said. Hilery stood, stretched, and followed the elderly nurse back to one of the exam rooms. Once there, she took her temperature and blood pressure. Both were normal. After that was done she also checked Hilery’s weight. She had lost a little weight since the last time she’d been there. The young woman was close to being overweight, but the fact that the weight was starting to come off made her feel positive she was heading in the right direction. While Joy was writing in Hilery’s chart, there was a knock on the door and Doc Appleby walked in.
“I have the results of your blood work,” the elderly doctor told her. Joy handed him her chart before exiting the room. He opened it and looked it over for a moment before closing it again. Finally he crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knee. “The results indicate you have an endocrine disorder. It is actually quite common in women of childbearing age, but the good news is, there is a treatment.”
“Okay…”
“You have something called Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. You are insulin resistant, which is causing your body to produce too much testosterone. The high testosterone levels can cause a woman to develop cysts on her ovaries. These cysts are immature egg cells which never completely mature to the point of being released. It means your body continuously produces estrogen, and little progesterone. Progesterone is produced by the follicle left behind by the mature egg, which eventually triggers menstruation. This in turn means you do not have a monthly cycle every month. The higher than normal testosterone levels mean you also develop acne, and could develop facial hair. The insulin resistance is why your weight fluctuates the way it does.”
“That explains a lot,” she said. “And you said there’s a treatment?”
“Yes, quite simple really.” He pulled out his prescription pad and scribbled something on it. “All you have to do is take a blood sugar medication once a day to reduce your insulin and sugar levels. I am going to prescribe Metformin for that.”
“And that will solve the problem?” She was quite surprised the treatment was that simple.
“Yes, if we can get your blood sugar and insulin levels in check, the testosterone levels will naturally go back down, allowing everything to function normally.” He tore the prescription off the pad and handed it to her. “And if everything functions normally, it will decrease your cancer risks as well, as PCOS raises those risks if left untreated. The medication will also prevent you from developing full blown diabetes.”
Hilery placed the paper in her purse as she listened to the doctor. It explained so much, but it didn’t explain everything. It didn’t explain her swelling problems.
“Also… PCOS seems to run in families. It is possible your mother or paternal grandmother had the disease as well.” She nodded. It would explain why she was an only child.
Finally the doctor shook her hand. “I will send Doctor Johnson in to see you. He is an associate of the doctor I was telling you about during your last visit.” After he washed his hands he left the room, shutting the door softly behind him.
Five minutes later, there was another knock on the door before two people entered. One was a nurse, and the other a man with thinning gray hair. “Hello, I am Dr. Johnson, and this is Nurse White.” He shook her hand before taking a seat. “I hear you’ve been having some issues with possible allergies.” He handed the nurse the folder he had carried in.
“Yeah. The doctors said I had a recent bout of anaphylaxis.”
“I see.” He reached for her arm and rubbed a closed pen against it before sitting back down. “How long were you swollen from the anaphylaxis?”
“About three days,” Hilery replied.
“Did the antihistamines and steroids help any?”
“To be truthful, not really.”
As they spoke, Nurse White fluttered around the young Davenport woman. She took Hilery’s blood pressure, just as Nurse Joy had, as well as her temperature, height, and weight. Then she left the room.
“I don’t think you had a bout of anaphylaxis,” he said truthfully. “However, I am going to have some allergy testing done. Nurse White's gone to get the test materials.” He reached for her arm to check it and saw a red mark, but no swelling. He noted it in the fresh chart that the nurse had left behind. He hadn’t rubbed that hard and there should not have been a red mark.
The nurse knocked on the door before entering with a tray. In it were allergens with small needles to do a scratch test. “I assure you, Miss Davenport, Nurse White will be as gentle as possible. You shouldn’t feel a thing.” He stood and left the room.
The nurse, a redheaded woman of about thirty years, sat down on a stool in front of Hilery, who was seated in a chair. She laid the tray on the table that she’d placed between them. “This shouldn’t hurt, and if it does, it shouldn’t be that much.” She pulled out an alcohol wipe and wiped Hilery’s forearms down. Then she pulled out a pen, writing numbers up and down them. Then came the scratch test.
After each number had a pin prick next to it she closed the tray. “I want you to sit for fifteen minutes, do not scratch or rub your arms, or allow the fluids to run.” She then exited the room.
Only two places started to react, and it made her rather uncomfortable. When the nurse returned, she looked at her forearms and made a few notes. Hilery had reacted to the histamine, and the dog dander, although the dog dander was only a mild reaction.
Nurse White took another alcohol wipe and wiped her arms down again before rubbing a little Benadryl cream on them. Then she pulled a smaller tray out of the larger tray. When she opened it, Hilery sucked in a deep breath. It was full of needles.
“These may hurt a little bit. I need to inject the allergens under your skin,” she said, taking another alcohol wipe out. Hilery was wearing a spaghetti strap top, blue in color, so she didn’t need her to roll up her sleeves. She wiped Hilery’s upper arm before getting to work. Then she left again.
When fifteen minutes were up, Nurse White returned and looked at the arm. She nodded and wrote down a few notes. As she was writing things down, Doctor Johnson returned.
“How is she?”
“Doing well,” was the reply as she once again wiped Hilery’s arm down with rubbing alcohol before applying some more ointment. “She had four reactions.”
He nodded and sat down in the seat that Nurse White vacated when she was done. He looked at the chart. “It seems you are allergic to dogs, cats, mold, and dust mites,” he said. “However, none of these reactions are strong enough to cause anaphylaxis. I am going to have Nurse White draw some blood so we may check for autoimmune diseases.” He watched her reaction. She seemed uncomfortable with that idea, but nodded her head. “Also, if you have another case of swelling, I want you to go to the ER and have them draw blood for this test.” He was scribbling on a prescription pad as he spoke. When he was done, he handed it to her. “And I am prescribing an allergy medication.” He handed her a second script. Afterward, he shook her hand and left the room, planning on washing his hands in the bathroom.
After Nurse White drew the blood, Hilery was told she could go home. She was sure that the doctor could get to the bottom of whatever was going on.
From the doctor’s office, Hilery went to the café where she was supposed to meet her cousin for lunch. He was already looking over the menu when she arrived.
“How’d it go?” he asked before taking a sip of his coffee.
“Good. Doc found something on the blood work he ordered last week, but it’s nothing too bad. He wants to put me on blood sugar medication.”
“You’re diabetic?”
“Borderline,” she replied, picking up her menu and looking it over. They both knew what was served in the establishment, but at the same time, it wasn’t unusual for something new to be added to the menu due to Boss Hogg.
The younger Davenport had no plans to discuss everything that the doctor had said about blood work. She moved on to the topic of the allergy testing. “The allergist says I’m allergic to dogs, cats, mold, and dust mites.” She looked up when the waitress placed a glass of root beer in front of her. It was what she always drank when they were dining at the café. She took a sip as she waited for Cooter to reply.
“What are you going to do about your cats?” he said finally, looking at her over the menu.
“Keep them. He’s putting me on an allergy medication, so I should be fine. I’ll just have to try to keep up better with the housework.”
“And keep them from sleeping in your bed.” Cooter said.
“Now you know I ain’t willin’ to do that,” she replied, chuckling. “Gizmo would have a conniption fit.” Gizmo was her recently adopted gray tabby cat… and the poor thing typically went through separation anxiety every time Hilery left the house or shut her out of whatever room she was in.
“Did you figure out what caused the anaphylaxis?” he asked, putting the menu down.
“Doc thinks it wasn’t anaphylaxis. He thinks it could be autoimmune.”
“Hope not.” Cooter answered. “I’m just glad I made you get health insurance.”
“Believe me, I’m glad you did too.”
They both looked up when the waitress walked back over. “You two ready to order?” she asked.
“Yeah Cynthia,” Hilery said, handing her the menu. “I’ll have the antipasto salad with croutons and French dressing.”
“And you Cooter?”
“The special with hot peppers, pickles, and fried onions.” She jotted their orders down on her notepad before turning and walking away. The special of the day was cheese steak with French fries.
After a few moments, Cooter finally spoke. “What are you going to do if it’s autoimmune?” he asked, remembering Ruth. He was certain that whatever it was, it was genetic.
“Don’t know. Hopefully there’s a treatment for it.”
“Hopefully,” Cooter agreed. “I think you need to take it easy, at least until we have some answers and know what we’re up against.”
“I’ll be fine Coot.”
“I know,” he replied, but truth was, he was very worried about her.
They fell silent, each thinking about what the future might hold for the younger Davenport cousin. Finally Cooter picked up his coffee cup and took another sip from it before speaking.
“Are you going to the church social next Sunday?”
“Yeah, might as well. Be good to go and do some prayin’.”
“You goin’ with anyone?”
Hilery looked at him, her eyebrow raised. “No one has asked if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Is there anyone you would like to go with?”
Immediately, a young man with blond hair and blue eyes came to mind but she shook her head. “Not really,” she fibbed. “You know I always go to those things alone.”
“Yeah. Any idea what you’re going to wear?”
“Same thing I do everyday I suppose. What is this, twenty questions?”
Cooter shook his head no as the waitress, Cynthia, returned with their meals. She also refilled Cooter’s coffee mug before heading off to check on some new arrivals.
“I think we should dress nice, wear our good clothes,” He suggested. “You could wear a pretty dress, I’ll wear a dress shirt and leather vest.” He looked up from putting ketchup on his cheese steak only to discover Hilery was looking at him like he had grown a second head. “It ain’t gonna hurt you to look like a lady, Hil.”
“Coot, you know I don’t wear dresses.”
“I know, but… I don’t want to see you wind up all alone in this world. LB, BB, and I, we aren’t going to be around forever… and you’re gonna need someone to nurture and take care of when we’re gone. It’s just in your nature… and I can tell you from experience, this world can be a very lonely place.”
Hilery picked at her salad with her fork for a few moments, absorbing what Cooter had said. She knew he was right, and she really didn’t want to end up alone. Finally she sighed and looked up at him. “Fine, I’ll wear the dress,” she conceded. A dress might catch a certain Duke boy’s attention, if he even went, but she kept that thought to herself. “But I’ve only got the red one that I wore to the dance.”
“There’s more in the attic,” he replied. “I’ll bring them down later tonight so you can look through them. Some are a little dated, but some are really pretty.”
Finally, she stabbed a piece of lettuce with her fork and stuck it in her mouth. As she chewed, she mulled things over. She was sure Cooter would, at some later time, try to convince her to wear makeup again. It wasn’t that she didn’t like wearing it, it was the fact that she didn’t like to put the time and energy into putting it on. She preferred to be low maintenance.
They finished their meal in peace, each lost in thought. Hilery was scared of getting dressed up. She was scared of being noticed, especially by Bo. She was afraid of getting her heart broken and the rejection… and she was certain he’d have a date for the church social. She was fairly sure he would take Kendra. She had to fight the urge to sigh. Life just wasn’t fair sometimes, she thought. She still hadn’t figured out what Bo saw in the other woman, what Kendra had that she didn’t.
“There you go” said Cynthia, placing the bill on the table. Cooter glanced at the total and paid the waitress before turning back to Hilery. “You want to come finish the day at the garage, or do you want to go home and get some rest? You look a bit tired.” She looked more troubled than tired, but he didn’t want to bring attention to that.
“I’m fine Cooter.” She was considering going home as she didn’t want to be near Kendra, but at the same time, she needed to work out some stress and emotions. The need to do some work won out. They both left the café and walked back to the Hazzard Garage, where there was plenty to be done. As they walked, side by side, silently down the street, the gloomy mood seemed to lift, the prospect of a good day’s work not far off. Relief of the day’s stress and worry was sure to be found in the coming hours.
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