Lauren’s first update, Winter 2025
My hives began in November 2024, during a particularly stressful period in school. At first, they were scarce—just a few on my legs. I remember thinking it was strange but not alarming. Within days, they worsened rapidly, spreading across my back and legs. An urgent care visit led to a course of prednisone, which briefly relieved the symptoms. Once the medication ended, the hives returned—more severe than before. Over the next several months, I relied on repeated prednisone pills and injections. Eventually, I began developing angioedema, including swelling of my face, lips, and fingers. My rings no longer fit, and my reflection became unfamiliar. That was when I began seeing my current allergist.
They went through all of the first regimens, the first line of treatment with the antihistamines. They tried almost all of them and titrated the dose up and down to the max of the four pills that you can take a day. And then, I just progressively got a lot worse in the new year. Unexpected joint pain started setting in, swelling of my knees, ankles, hands. I had one shut and one eye open and my lips looked like I got stung by a bee. I would get fevers because the rash would be on my face and forehead. I started keeping a journal of how I was feeling every day, what the rash looked like, and if I was experiencing joint pain or swelling. It had now been two months since my first appointment with my allergist, and the antihistamines weren’t working. I was prescribed a biologic that is supposed to help many with urticaria.
I didn’t start seeing any difference until the second month. All of a sudden in March, it all went away for a month and I had a small sense of hope that it was working, and then it came back a month later and progressively got worse.
I continued the injections through a period of good days and bad days. They were saying, it might just be a breakthrough, it might get better. And then in the summer, it was just back to the way it was.
I began noticing a pattern related to pressure on my body. After lifting weights, I would wake up with hives exactly where the weight had rested. As a lifelong equestrian who recently returned to riding, I also began waking with hives along my seat bones and legs from the pressure of the saddle. At my worst, mornings followed the same pattern: waking up hopeful, checking the mirror, and realizing nothing had changed, or that it was worse. Balancing school and work became increasingly difficult. By the time I reached evening classes, my feet would be throbbing, making each day feel like I was carrying a constant target on my back.
There has not been a single day I’ve been hive-free since April 2025. The most debilitating pain has been in my feet. As a master’s student working alongside school, there were days I could barely move. I had to stop workout classes and limit daily activities because the bottoms of my feet were inflamed from hives and pressure. At times, the swelling felt like stepping on a rock, as if my foot didn’t belong to me. Despite adjusting medications and dosages, I found little lasting relief.
I am currently pursuing my master’s degree in counseling, with plans to specialize in pediatric chronic illness. Throughout this experience, I searched for a silver lining. Living with chronic illness has reshaped how I understand pain and resilience. When future clients tell me they are struggling, I will not only empathize, I will understand from lived experience.
For those navigating chronic urticaria, I encourage exploring all available treatment options when possible. Different providers offer different perspectives, and access varies widely due to insurance and financial barriers. Increasing awareness of available treatments and the roadblocks to accessing them, it essential to improving patient care.
Update from Lauren – January 2026
Since I was able to begin a newly approved treatment in late October 2025, my life has shifted in ways that feel both quiet and profound. I have now been hive-free for several months, the first time in over a year that my body has not been in a constant state of reaction. Living without daily hives has felt blissful in the simplest sense: waking up without pain, moving through the day without anticipating it, and rediscovering what it means to feel at ease in my own body. While it is unsure if this will be a complete cure for me, it has given me something just as meaningful-space. Space to reflect on what living with chronic illness has taught me, and space to imagine a future not defined solely by symptoms. This experience has deepened my empathy and reshaped my sense of purpose, reminding me that even in ongoing uncertainty, there can be meaning. I have found a silver lining in using my experience to support and advocate for others who will one day face similar diagnoses, transforming a season of pain into perspective and a commitment to help those navigating life with chronic illness.