Venom Immunotherapy
To save a life, or maybe just a lifestyle
Slowing down and spending time outdoors is a way of being that brings clarity and peace of mind. If not somewhere with dirt roads and poor cell service, even an afternoon at the local park can bee an opportunity to reflect in the midst of an otherwise unrelenting work week.
The steep valley of the Shadowy St. Joe River was my family’s retreat—floating the river, rocks of every brown and green visible through the unclouded water; the perfect transfer of weight with each fly cast; torrential downpours each Memorial Day weekend; and more time & effort put into cooking than back home. It was glamping, with hard-sided trailers and access to flush toilets, but it got my sister and I exploring outdoors at a young age.
As I’ve grown older, life busier, and my appreciation for the environment stronger, the time I’ve actually spent deep in the woods has waned. The peak came five years ago, as I pursued a minor in Outdoor Recreation Leadership. Coupled with a degree in Psychology, I came to the realization that Nature literally is medicine for a species that spent more than 99% of its evolution sleeping under the stars.
Nature therapy has entered the realm of academic research. Various published studies about shinrin-yoku—translated to “forest bathing”—have uncovered its biological benefits.
Each recreation course was a semester-long and focused on a unique area of outdoor exploration, culminating in a weekend trip of experiential learning. I learned about backpacking, snow-shoeing, winter camping, and mountaineering at Mount St. Helens, all with an emphasis on personal growth and what it means to be a prepared leader while utilizing our public lands.
A more intensive, also intimate, kind of connection with wilderness came when I took an AmeriCorps position with Idaho Conservation Corps. Our crew of five spent nine days at a time in the woods, restoring 100 year-old CCC trails in the Nez Perce–Clearwater National Forest. The physical aspect was demanding, but the mental toll and disconnectedness— from hot water, internet, or a soft bed—was the hardest transition. But we adapt, perspectives shift, and we come to crave what once felt intimidating.
After a hard day’s work and a modest meal, the evening fire’s smoke filling the pages of For Whom the Bell Tolls, I would then appreciate the simplicity. I’d dread the first day back in Moscow, catching up on emails and domestic drudgery, imagining a future when garden harvesting and cooking rounded out the to-do list.
I believe a sense of comfort and competence outdoors is a difficult thing to cultivate, and something in me that’s been eroded in recent years by pesky vespids—namely wasps, yellow jackets, and hornets. I’ve been stung twice at once, leading to an emergency room visit and EPI pen prescription; stung in the eye and had it swell shut; stung in the forehead while biking Boise’s greenbelt; and stung on the foot after stepping on a wasp while setting up a wasp trap. A sick irony runs through many of these encounters.
The thought of being miles in the backcountry, during summer and the height of wasp season, overwhelms the wonder that previously filled my senses while hiking and camping. While doing trailwork, I had intrusive thoughts of chainsawing through a downed log and disrupting a concealed hive. With one anaphylaxis under my belt and the knowledge that allergies often grow more severe with age, I finally started seeking alternatives to fear and apprehension. That alternative came in the form of venom immunotherapy, more commonly referred to simply as allergy shots.
Venom Immunotherapy
The process began at Boise Valley Asthma and Allergy Clinic, where my allergic response was evaluated by a series of needle pricks with various venoms. The test venoms included a control, paper wasp, yellow-jacket, hornet, and honey bee, among a couple others. The nurse practictioner came to check on me after five minutes, not expecting an allergic response quite yet, but exclaiming “Oh wow! Yep, you’re definitely allergic.”
I chuckled, feeling at once validated and also questioning of why I should be the one with such a severe allergy? But I know I am luckier than many, and grateful to have health insurance and the opportunity to receive what seems like a little-known and underutilized treatment. At the end of that first day, I officially learned I’m allergic to all the venoms, excluding honey bees, which checks out with my sting history.
I’ve now received weekly injections of an increasingly large dose of a mixed-vespid venom cocktail for three months, ideally building a tolerance to future stings. Having reached the full maintenance dose of 1.0 mL, I’ll receive shots more and more infrequently for at least the next couple years.
After each shot I hang out for 30 minutes to ensure no serious reaction occurs, and then I’m on my way. I did experience a local, itchy reaction to the first handful of shots, but have been in the clear ever since. There’s almost an element of cognitive-behavioral therapy, voluntarily exposing oneself to a stimuli which normally causes an unfavorable or unwanted response. It’s near impossible to know how one’s state of mind may impact the severity of an allergic response, but I do my best to respect the mind-body connection.
At my initial consultation, Doc told me the full dose was equal to roughly ten stings at once!
I write this article simply to inform people of a treatment option which might save a lifestyle or even a life. When I tell people about the treatment, I’m most often met with surprise or interest—I was curious myself that I’d never heard of it. As far as I know, the treatment is covered by many health insurance plans, but the cost of visit co-pays and the venom vials might make the treatment inaccessible to some. It’s an investment up front, perhaps saving money in the future by avoiding the high cost of EpiPen prescriptions.
I’m not out of the woods yet with my fear of wasps, but I do feel a mounting optimism. Venom immunotherapy for vespids boasts greater than 95% efficacy for reducing systemic reactions. Although I’ll never know how effective this treatment is until I’m stung in the wild, I do have more peace of mind while out and about, no longer flinching at the sound of buzzing wings.
If you’re squimish about insects, now’s your time to look away. Otherwise, check out this handy chart showing all the different types of wasps. We rarely have the time to see them up close.
