Itchy

It's confirmed. This is the enemy.

My original goal purpose for the crap hole doctor's visit was to see an allergist who would tell me how to eat a burger without raging heartburn lockdown on my esophagus.

I've never been to an allergist, so, when she came in and said they wanted to run a few tests, I thought I could handle it.

I think at Guantanamo Bay, instead of waterboarding, they should just test for allergies.

"Take your nice warm cozy sweater off that you wear just for doctor's visits because you have prepared for the cold sterile 30 minute wait in silence while doctor is negotiating your time with actual patients versus getting wooed by pharmaceutical reps. Take off your bra too. You know, the one you just bought yourself in the last attempt for a push up of your itty bitty A's. Take all that off and wait, for that 30 minutes."

So, I do it, and hang out in the lovely paper top I'm now sporting. Nurse comes in and explains, "First, I've got to write on your back and make the markers."

That tickles, and I flinch a couple of times, messing up her pretty handwriting on my back, I'm sure.

Then, "Ok, now I've got to run these tests. I'm going to have to prick you." She said it apologetically, and now I know why. A needle would have been way more pleasant than this. It was like a plastic toothpick. Unfun. Three columns down my back 15 times. 45 pricks - a jab and then a twist, because she has to get it under my skin. And the lower on the back, the more it starts to feel less like a stabbing and more like electrical shock.

"Okay, now we wait. I'm going to leave now and let all that stuff I just inserted in your skin ferment. So, just sit there with your gaping robe. Do you itch anywhere?"

"Not yet, am I supposed to?"

"You might."

"Well, if I do itch, can I scratch it?"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT. Whatever you do, don't scratch!"

And cue the torture part of this scene. "You want me to sit here with this open paper robe for 20 minutes and not scratch an itch of something you injected in to me that I might be allergic to?"

"Um, yes." And then she bolted out of the room with a faint after thought: "And if you feel wheezy or have shortness of breath - just stick your head out and tell someone."

"Really? That's your system? What should I yell: Fire?"

"Sure that'll work."

"Maybe not - if I yell Fire, won't everyone run?"

Dead stare and silence.

"Well, just push this button that says 'PUSH FOR HELP IN EMERGENCY'". Super.

We wait and I'm pretty sure the dog marker is itching profusely for 18 of the 20 minutes. Great. I'm going to have to put the dog down.

The doctor and her henchman - the stabbing nurse - come back in and start rattling off skin rash measurements. I'm definitely allergic to Mold and Dustmites. Dang. I can't hang out with those two anymore. Darnit.

The skin test provoked what I now know to be $90 blood tests. EACH. Each allergy you're tested for ...$90. I need to be a petri dish lab girl is all I'm sayin. Here's what I might be allergic to: Celery, almond, sesame seed, corn, rice, green beans, green peas, and grapefruit.

Thankfully, red meat and chocolate didn't come up. I will live then.

WAIT! Did you just say corn? If I'm allergic to corn, I will be marked with a Scarlett C. I will be run out of the state of Nebraska. Please don't report me to Tom Osborne. Please! I realize there are other departments of the state, and other coaches, but Osborne is still in charge here. Don't let anyone tell you any different. When the poop hit the fan at UNL, and they did the shakedown and fired the coach - they called Osborne's red phone. He came out of retirement, with his cape, and drove down in his batmobile, and was interrim coach/atheletic director until they found a replacement. I think he'll stick around just to make sure they know who's boss. So, being allergic to corn, in Nebraska, that's kind of funny.

I'm cracking my jokes while I sit in my paper robe. "Isn't that funny, corn, in Nebraska!?"

Doctor: "It's really not."

"It's kind of funny. I KNOW funny."

"Um, Leslie, corn is in EVERYTHING. You won't think it's so funny. Trust me."

Fine you little fun-hater. Fine.

The other thing I'm allergic to is CATS. Even better! I hate cats. Hate them. Yes, I do. There is hate in my heart, and it's devoted to cats. When my dad died, we cleaned out his house, and in his garage, we found cat traps. I have never been more proud of my father than in that moment. I used to have cats, and they were fine, I guess. I have friends with cats, and I'm not going to visit, wait for you to go to sleep, and then back over your cat with the car. Unless provoked. There's a handful of people that I'm okay with your cats. I just don't really like them. So, being allergic to them is great. Because I try very hard to not lie to my kids. But I've been telling them I'm allergic to cats for a few years now. And yay, it's not a lie! So, that's a relief.

That's it, that's all I'm allergic to, Cats, Dustmites and Mold. They think the whole esophagus clinching up is a breathing allergy. So, I'm going to have to stop huffing the dustmite& mold. I went home and took a good look at my house, and the way I live. And I think I've figured out a few things.

I vaccuumed our mattress, and then got an allergen free cover thing for it and our pillows. I do love to vacuum in general, so, I'll just do it more often. And I've been instructed to wash my sheets once a week, in hot water. I'm sure I've done the washing part, maybe let it go a few more days than needed, but the hot water will be a good change too.

And then ofcourse, I will blowdart any cat that walks in my path. Just kidding. Sort of.

That's how I roll.