Days passed like crashing waves. My symptoms subsided enough that I could begin working on the last special event from home, on an open house for the public. During those two weeks, District colleagues called with the latest news from the front. Battles about the building and illnesses were raging by e-mail.
One message from our Communications office manager to Facilities asked why the District wasn’t more aggressive in the removal of the screens over the air vents because we were told our air circulation would be much improved if they were removed. We were made to understand the idea was rejected since doing so would not fit in with the architectural design. Another message from the Communications Department asked Facilities if our troubles might be related to the strong chlorine odors.Visitors had mentioned that our end of the building smelled like a swimming pool. Facilities staff answered each e-mail with reasons why they did not plan to take any action.
Articles began appearing in local newspapers. A few people in the new District building had developed sick-building syndrome, the Seattle Times reported. The newspaper article mentioned that the District had hired an environmental and engineering expert to test the air. This was the first I had heard of tests being ordered. A District spokesperson was quoted downplaying the situation by saying employee complaints had “subsided.”
During the weeks at home, my symptoms gradually disappeared. Finally I returned to work, certain my problem was cured since I now felt back to my old self. The first day back was quiet and uneventful. With opening events behind me, I spent the day setting up my new office. That night, however, waves of nausea, ringing ears and splitting head pain woke me up like a bolt of lightning. I lay in bed, despair engulfing me like a thick, ominous fog. This can’t be happening, I thought. Please, oh please, let it be a bad dream. I tossed and turned until a rosy glow appeared on the horizon. It was time to get up and try another day in the office.
To my great horror, that day my symptoms only grew worse. I began reacting to virtually any chemical I was exposed to at home and at the office. Things that had never bothered me before now had sickening aromas. Dry-cleaning fluids, auto exhaust, new clothes, the grocery store – all set off my symptoms. An overpowering stench wafted up from the highway when I drove down the ramp. I would change lanes if an old car got in front of me because its exhaust smelled worse than newer, less-polluting cars. When I walked into friends’ homes where they cooked on gas stoves, I could smell gas in the air. Even though I’d always enjoyed perfume, now people wearing fragrances emitted nauseating odors like skunks.
Another year would pass before I would learn the name for what was happening: multiple chemical sensitivity. The condition involves greatly increased sensitivity to a wide range of synthetic chemicals. It can come on suddenly – for example, when someone moves to a new office building or is exposed to pesticides. Or the illness can develop gradually over a lifetime of repeated exposures to low levels of toxins. Once a person is sensitized, even a whiff of perfume can trigger a cascade of symptoms. Recent studies have indicated 15 percent of the population may suffer from chemical sensitivities, mainly due to poor indoor air quality and the growing prevalence of chemicals in our air, food and products – although not all in that 15 percent are as hypersensitive to chemicals as I have become. Many years later, I became astounded by how many people in the general population react to everyday chemicals, not just those of us with multiple chemical sensitivity or those who work in energy-efficient office buildings. But such affected people probably will never have their health problems completely diagnosed.