I am extremely sensitive to latex. I can’t say I’m allergic, because I don’t fall over on the ground, gasping for breath when exposed. But I do experience relatively minor reactions, such as uticaria on my finger joints, a metallic taste in my mouth, and some difficulty breathing. Most importantly, every exposure sets me up for the next one to be worse.
Obviously, I have to work to keep latex out of my life as much as possible: gone are condoms and the diaphragm (replaced by two kids), my medical charts have day-glo pink stickers on them, our Band-Aids are special purchases (though the wrappers still have latex in them?!), and I’m the mean Mommy who says, “no, thank you” when someone offers my kid a balloon.
Yesterday, however, things spiraled out of control. Our contractor, a normally really smart guy, textured the new wall between the boys’ room with some nasty stuff and slapped on a coat of extra-stinky primer. When I came home, the solvent smell wasn’t great, but I thought it would be okay. We did pull the boys out of their rooms, with the living room and hallway resembling flophouses. By morning, my nose hurt badly, and I could feel my nose constricting. My plan for putting a coat of low VOC paint on the walls completely evaporated when I realized that I couldn’t even go in the room.
I ended up placing a panicked call to the contractor, asking him to come do the painting for me—ASAP, and throwing all the doors and windows wide open so I could breathe in my own home. That wouldn’t have been too horrible, but the kids were home for yet another snow day, which meant A) it was really cold outside, and B) the kids were unhappy, since not only wasn’t there enough snow to really play in, but the house was so cold they had to wear their hats indoors. No to mention Mommy's grumpy mood. I lit a fire, but 53 degrees is cold.
By evening, things had improved considerably: my hero at the paint store not only had low-VOC paint to sell me, he custom tinted it on the spot (one usually must pre-order such things). My heart lighter, I set to work making my first-ever homemade Dal Makhani. (It’s not too bad, though I have to admit it’s better today.) By 4:30, the paint was on, so I could close the doors and windows and let the crackling fire and the bubbling Dal warm things up quickly.
*****
When I read this morning’s headlines of tornadoes and suicide bombers, I realize my problems don’t amount to a hill of beans; when I talked to my Dear Friend this morning, I realized that I may have had one bad day, but she’s had a couple of rough weeks. I’ll pick up Stand Partner and bring her home today. No, I can’t go in the freshly painted room quite yet, but I did put in the new light switch on the unpainted side, and I’ll pick up the carpet this afternoon.
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