Wait. I signed up for a puppy. When does the puppy get here?
I finally went to the allergist today.
Apparently to prove that I’m allergic to something I’ve been allergic to my entire life I need to be jabbed in the arm repeatedly with a pin and then watch my arm swell into hives (don’t scratch!). Seriously is there some underground market for antihistamine out there that they can’t just take my word for it?
Allergists are sadists.
But it’s worth it. It is. Because I want a dog. I told the allergist that the minute I walked into his office. I want to get allergy shots because I want a dog.
So he jabbed and I sat and itched without scratching, imagining myself cuddling a whole litter of fluffy puppies without sneezing once.
Dr. Sadist: “You’re allergic.”
Me: “I know.”
Dr. Sadist: “You have year round and seasonal allergies.”
Me: “I know.” Did this guy even bother to read my file?
Dr. Sadist: “You will need two shots a week for 8 months, then two shots a month for a year, then shots every four months for another year.”
Me: “Wait, this paper says pollen and dust mites. How will this help me get a dog?”
Dr. Sadist: “No, you shouldn’t get a dog. You suffer from allergies.”
What? No. Seriously. What? I didn’t even have the words to ask any other questions. I just picked up my prescription for 140 needles full of allergen and walked out the door.
Writing Exercise:
What is the cost of everything was measured in needles (or some other form of pain). You want a new car? That’ll be 15 punches in the left breast. You’d like that muffin? Six paper cuts please. 140 needles and you can cut that lawn. Wait, something seems wrong with that deal.
