I’ve not been feeling up to par lately, and my doctor suggested allergy testing. So, I bit the bullet and made an appointment. They told me to block out all day, bring a book, my computer, I could watch movies, TV, whatever…so I did. This will be a snap. I can work, away from the office, and get this testing done. What a multi-tasker!
It’s 4 p.m., I’ve been here since 9am, and I think I’ve had more sticks than … ah, heck, I can’t even think of anything funny. We’ve got the surprise birthday party for my Other Mom at 6:30 – I’m in sweats and a t-shirt, barely presentable. I don’t really feel up to a party anymore. What the heck was I thinking?
Here comes the needle lady with her pretty little poison. And she sticks me, injects the stuff. Barely under my skin. I know where the term "gets under your skin" was coined...right here in good ol' Midland, America. By noon, I had suffered 108 injections. And she told me “We’re halfway done, sweetie.”
“Halfway, my butt!” I mutter under my breath.
I think I’m having a reaction. Everything is kind of foggy. Not to worry, by now I know the drill - she’ll be giving me an antihistamine in a minute to counteract the reaction.
We’ve done this all day long. Inject my skin with some known allergen that I might possibly be allergic to…monitor the reaction for swelling, monitor me for all sorts of things like headache, depression, anger…record said reaction, if any…stick me again with whatever counteracts it. Then, in a minute or two, I feel somewhat normal again.
“Ready for the next injection?” she asks.
“Ready for me to open up a can of good ol’ West Texas whup-***?”, I mutter under my breath, as I half-smile (grimace) and nod my head.
What ever happened to customer satisfaction?
I’m trying to work here! I’m trying to do my expenses! Answer e-mails! Answer my customers' calls!
I think I’m developing needle-o-phobia.
I want my mommy. I want my blankie.
I want out of here!!