Word Seeds

On Agoraphobia as it applies to Latex Allergy (Natural Rubber Latex – NRL)
by Debra L Scott

As so many of my attempts to lead a normal life end up with yet another life threatening anaphylaxis, I am starting to realize my behaviors have changed.

Going outside, even to walk around the neighborhood, has become a treacherous voyage. You’d think I was about to sail off the edge of the earth. Even my own backyard has been dangerous, with all-too-regular anaphylactic episodes from neighbors and their balloons wafting through the air. I don’t go anywhere, even to the other side of the house, without my epi pen anymore.

Stores, restaurants, movies, fairs, exhibits, travel, vacations, art classes… these are all too dangerous… so says my Allergist. My attempts to defy this medical edict are nearly all disastrous. A rousing bark of agreement comes from my service dog who faithfully tries, often in vain, to pull me out of danger.

I’ve gotten used to the strange and accusatory looks from people when I wear my industrial half-faceplate mask rated for lead paint when I absolutely must get some groceries, or find a plumbing part at the hardware store. I know the whispers… “Wow, what a hypochondriac!” “Maybe she has AIDS…” and even a direct retort when I was with my spouse; “What’s the matter? Can’t stand his stink?” ( and yes, the mask is ordered by my allergist, not just me being overly cautious)

Invitations from friends are always RSVP’d with “Is it in a restaurant?” (which 19 times out of 20 means latex gloves will be used on the food) “If it’s at your house, will there be any balloons, masks, erasers, bounce houses, rubber balls, rubber/latex toys etc….? Can you make sure your other guests won’t be bringing any? What about your neighbors? Do you live near any car dealerships, rental/sale signs that might have balloons? Children?” Yeah, I know, nuts, right? So if I don’t answer your invitation… that’s why. Not that I don’t want to go, I just don’t want to make you go through the insane checklist I’ve been given.

And so I’ve developed an allergic agoraphobia. Outside pretty much anywhere is sort of like skydiving now… maybe you won’t ‘bounce’, this time (i.e. die). Except skydivers have a much better track record. Maybe it’s more like setting up an easel in the middle of a freeway at rush hour… you ‘might’ survive the experience.  I’d go live in the woods away from all the hazards of suburbia, except my spouse relies on public transportation. He’s blind you see, which explains why I have go grocery/hardware/anything shopping in defiance of medical advice.

My house is safe most of the time, except when I fall prey to grocery food that was handled with latex gloves, or wrapped up in those oh-so-useful and deadly rubber bands. But then it isn’t, when the next link in the cross allergen list engraves my initials on its protein base, or when something I used to be able to use, like an eraser, decides it’s going to grow venomous fangs. I sigh, gritting my teeth to steal for the jab of the Epi Pen. Why do they call it a ‘pen’? It is a big ass needle you slam into your thigh, because you suddenly can’t breathe. It’s big and thick so it’ll go through your jeans, and yeah, it hurts. I draw things with pens, I don’t jab myself with them.

But I digress. I checked the Phobia List to see if someone had come up with a name for this condition. Aerophobia is probably the closest, the fear of airborne noxious substances. But it’s not only the airborne latex, its also ingested from latex glove contaminated food and direct contact with natural rubber latex. But can we get more specific? No Latexophobia or Ennarrelophobia (say it out loud… N-R-L-ophobia). I suppose you could use the genus name for the tree it comes from, Hevea brasiliensis… heveabrasiliensiphobia…. Naaah… Let’s see, to use latin roots, rubber translates to flexilis but that really just means flexible, or balneator, which means bath attendant… um, no. Latex translates to aliquam. Oddly, that translates back to ‘some’. Huh? Sap translates to sucus… that may be promising, translates back to juice… but sucusophobia??? Tempting because yeah, it sucks! LOL. Oh here we go: morologus, or morus, actually translates back to sap.  Morologuphobia. Now that’s a word I can sink my teeth into… except it would kill me.

(afterword: the allergenic latex proteins are actually carried in the sticky defense stuff that oozes out of the plant when under stress, like during harvesting, not from the sap itself. So back to square one on a name.)