Winter brings forth many things. For children, the coming season means snowball fights, sledding, the promise of hot cocoa and the potential for snow days. Winter means Christmas, Santa Claus and New Year’s Eve. For adults, winter brings forth different sensations. Anxiety for the coming holidays, dread at driving their brand new vehicles through the snow, the hazard of perilous icy driveways, and the general feeling of depression brought forth by the dying sunlit hours.
As a child, I found winter to be a magical time. As I matured, winter became less enchanting and more hellish. Of course, I’m not like most people. My dread is for reasons other than obligations of adulthood. My disdain for winter is due to medical purposes. I have cold urticaria.
Cold urticaria is an allergy where hive or large welts form on the skin after exposure from a cold stimulus. It occurs in one in a 100,000 people, so it is extremely rare. Not only does cold weather cause hives, but it affects my lungs. Prolonged cold exposure results in shortness of breath and wheezing, to a point that can induce unconsciousness.
This allergy has affected me since the age of 16. I was at work, standing in a walk-in freezer. I noticed inflammation and soreness, tiny welts throughout my hands. Logically, I couldn’t quite figure out the cause. After other occurrences involving cold stimuli, such as ice packs, cold coffee, and even a cold shower encounter, I began to realize that something wasn’t right. The only underlying factor behind my breakouts was temperature. It seemed so crazy at first. I’d never heard of cold urticaria before. But sure enough, I was diagnosed.
Five years later, the allergy still affects me every day. There are many simple tasks I cannot accomplish. For example, I can’t touch frozen food. I can’t take lukewarm showers, or drink cold coffee or even use an ice pack when I’m injured. If I do, it just means unsightly hives and a lot of pain. Rooms with high-powered air conditioners require me to wear a coat and gloves. I can’t wear shorts to class because of air conditioners. Cold urticaria makes so many things difficult, things that six years ago, I took for granted.
Winter is my enemy. For many, winter means snowball fights. For me, winter means isolation. I can’t leave my room on some days due to low temperatures, which results in depression and cabin fever. I can’t touch snow. I can’t leave the room without multiple layers of clothing, and even that doesn’t help sometimes. Winter means missing class, and having to explain my condition to professors, some of whom believe me, and some who scoff, calling me lazy. They don’t know that beneath my three pairs of pants, my legs are covered in deep welts and hives. They don’t know how much it hurts, how much I want to scratch, how much I want to cry about not being able to change my condition.
Being believed is one of the biggest struggles. The lack of information about the disease makes it difficult to really explain it to non-believers. I’ve had to resort to putting an ice cube on my skin to demonstrate its harm, and even then, I have people who call me a baby. It’s a constant battle, being frequently questioned and judged. There are days I don’t want to leave my room because I simply don’t want to explain to people that I’m in pain.
Despite this struggle, I stay strong and continue praying for a cure. Cold urticaria doesn’t define me, and I refuse to let it. I fight for myself, stand up for my character, and fight for others who may not have a voice or a platform to do so. I may beat this one day, I may not, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try. I am more than my chronic allergy. I may have to repeat this to myself daily, but it’s just a part of it. Maybe one day I’ll be able to find winter wonderful again. Until then, I'm going to enjoy the sun, and take in as much summer as I can.
