Yesterday I had a doctor’s appointment where the doctor half-killed me, revived me with an arsenal of drugs, fed me a bowl of crackers, and then sent me on my way. I was ordered to call when I got home to let them know I was ok. I have to call back Monday to let them know I’m still ok.
I’m not sure what she would have done if she got my voice mail.
A few weeks ago the pulmonologist suggested that I go see an allergist, because he is out of options for controlling my asthma. My asthma has been a bad little friend and should be punished for the rest of her life, but she never listens, so I went to the allergist – THE DOCTOR.
I’m quite glad I never ditched him even though the first two visits with my son were rocky. I have a better understanding of him now and how he operates. He’s actually quite nice to me and he has helped my son get much better.
After taking 7 viles of blood from me last week and doing a lung test, he scheduled me for allergy testing this Friday. It didn’t go well. Let’s just say that I am allergic to everything on earth in an extremely severe way. After seeing the results of my blood work, he knew it was not going to be smooth sailing through the testing. When he read me my rights and made me understand that if anything happened, they would do everything possible to reverse my reaction, I knew we were in for a fun day.
Sometimes you’ve just gotta bite the bullet and do the hard thing. I knew things weren’t going well when he put his face in his hands and said a bad word.
I’m rather proud of myself for being able to walk out of his office yesterday with only minor shakiness. He pumped me full of enough drugs to kill an ox.
Today is better. Only a few hives have resurfaced and I’m typing with a pack of frozen hamburger rolls on one arm. Yes, I use high-tech medical techniques.
I am thankful for a wonderful family, modern medicine, and plenty of sunshine after flooding rains.