I have allergies. All my life I’ve had allergies. Ragweed, foods, dust, I’m allergic to all of it. It is my destiny.
But a few months ago I went to a new allergist, and she decided to do a blood test. Results came back. On a scale of 1-20, I’m only allergic to trees and that only reads at a four… Lies. Lies and medical deception.
Fast forward to last week when I go back to the allergist because I’ve had four sinus infections in the last year. She tells me to go off all allergy meds for five days before the appointment. It was the longest five days ever. Drippy eyes, runny nose, crackly voice. All things that are super great to deal with while performing a big dance review.
Anywho, I go to the office and the doctor says she really doesn’t know what to do with me because I don’t have many allergies.
(Cue cold-eyed stare of death from me.)
But since I’ve been suffering with no allergy medicine for a week, she can do an allergy skin test just to make sure she didn’t miss anything.
She leaves, and the nurse comes in and stabs me thirty-three times then tells me she’ll come back in fifteen minutes to see if anything has reacted. Before the door closed behind her smug little butt, my arms had turned red.
It was worse than being attacked by a hoard of Alaskan mosquitoes.
Finally, after I contemplate chopping my arms off and read twenty pages in my book, the nurse comes back in, looks at my arms, and says, “Oh, I guess you do have a few allergies.”
Damn skippy I have allergies! Apparently, I’m allergic to everything but mold, dogs, and cockroach poop.
I’m not supposed to go outside ever, drive with a window open ever, sleep with the window open ever. Enter a residence with cats present, sweep a floor, or breathe.
If you need me, I’ll be Googling how to build myself a bubble I can wear while preforming onstage. Mayhaps a sensible bubble head charm a la Harry Potter.
But don’t worry, my tales of medical wonders don’t end here. Next time: How I cupped the nurse’s giant boob.