I have known for many years that I suffer from seasonal allergies, so it must have been some desire for suffering that compelled me to get retested this year. I was last tested in the summer of 2007. I remember the two weeks prior to that appointment as pure torture since in order test allergic reactions, a person must go 14 days without allergy medication. Do you know what it’s like to have random people ask you if you are ‘really sick’ or need ‘help’ constantly? I swear that everyone within a 5 mile radius either thought I had some disease or was on drugs due to my continuously bloodshot eyes. I’m glad I warned HR and my supervisor ahead of time otherwise they might have staged an intervention. It’s called seasonal allergies people; I’m not deathly ill so please simmer down.
This morning was the test, and honestly the days before the test were not as bad as I remembered from last time. Truthfully, I haven’t had a bad allergy season since my darling daughter was born and the results of my test reflected greatly reduced or non-existent reactions. My allergens include dust mites, mold, some grasses, various farm animals, and evil incarnate.
The one true evil in this world has a name: Felis Catus, aka Mittens, Milo, Jinx, Garfield, or the domesticated CAT. They always know me for what I am, an allergy sufferer, and they delight in provoking a reaction. I avoid the shedding devils at every opportunity, however I cannot escape them. They have turned many of my poor family members into mere servants, catering to their every want and need. They have exiled me from many homes as I cannot breathe in the presence of pure evil. Today I was issued a challenge to face my tormentor with the help of a common steroid inhaler to combat inflammation of the lungs. My other option is to visit those houses in an anti-histamine fueled haze in which I behave like a doped up stoner.
I believe I am ready for the next confrontation with the enemy. The battlefield is yet undecided but the day is an often celebrated holiday known as Christmas. Someone in the family is hosting Christmas, and all but one household harbors at least one slinking dander farm.
Bring it on kitty… I got this.