After my run-in with a Brazil nut trying to do me in - I decided to schedule an appointment with an Allergist. Unfortunately the one I chose was attached to a Pediatricians office.
Summer and I arrived bright and early (What?! I'm 30 and still need my Sissy, what of it?!) walked up to the toddler and kid-filled waiting area and Summer said "You did tell 'em you were an adult, right?"
I warily went up to the window with the conspicuously low-placed talky-hole and said, "I'm here for my appointment with Dr. Shaw... Ya'all serve old people here, too, right?"
The woman laughed and said yes, that Dr. Shaw sees many ages.
I looked around the toy-strewn room in doubt and when completing my paperwork had to keep marking through "Child's" and writing "Adult's" in every question so I was nary the bit convinced.
Thirty minutes later, Sis and I were in a plain room with a tiny table and I was sitting there in an "OM" pose - both of my arms spread wide, palms up, as red whelps grew on each arm. Summer aided me by pushing up my sleeves and by reading an old "People" - sometimes out loud to me, and sometimes, forgetting I was there and helpless to turn pages, reading the articles only to herself.
Dr. Shaw came back to save me from trying to figure out how to kill my loving Sister by not using my arms about ten minutes later and stared down at my red spots.
"Well," said the tiny doc guy as he looked at my arm, "you're definitely not allergic to dogs or cats."
"I'll be sure to tell my husband," I said.
"But it seems like you have a pretty severe allergy to tree pollen-"
"I KNEW IT! I KNEW I was allergic to nature!!!"
" -and dust mites."
"What about this crazy big one over here?" I stiffly pointed to a rather large bump on my right forearm.
"Oh - that's just the control-"
"YOU MADE ME ITCHY ON PURPOSE?!" I yelled at him.
"I had to," he said, doing a very poor job at not laughing at my obvious distress. "If that one didn't react we couldn't rely on the others to be accurate."
"Oh," his logic was infuriating, but since he was the doc, I was willing to concede. "I guess that's okay then."
"I'm going to give you a prescription for Nasonex and an Epipen because since your nut allergy didn't show anything I'm not sure what is going on. We'll have to have a blood test done to get more information."
I blanched and paled at the word "blood" and I could feel Sis next to me shaking with giggles as she fought for composure as my pain is, apparently, damn funny.
"Now, when you use this," he uncapped the pen and showed me how it worked. "You make sure you shove it hard into your leg. So hard it bruises. It has to get to the muscle and with - er - meatier thighs it can be a bit hard."
It wasn't bad enough that the scale was off in his office by a good - 50 or so - pounds but now he was insinuating that my svelte posterior was being held up on meaty thighs?
Even I couldn't feign offense as I used both hands to poke at the outside of my thighs to illustrate I was well aware of his less-than-subtle direction for Epipen use on those of us with Junks in our Trunks and Elsewhere.
"Any questions?" he asked.
No. I had no questions. I was allergic to nature. I had a need for a serious change in my diet and was worried that my Epi would not make it past my "meat" should another Brazil nut attack me from a can of Mixed Nuts.
No. No questions at all.
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