It’s been proven by an actual scientist, a real M.D. that I am allergic to Tennessee. This is not exclusive to Tennessee. I’m reasonably sure that I was also allergic to Texas, Arkansas, Alabama, Alaska and every state in which I’ve lived. I know the moment that made the internist wash her hands of me and send me to the allergist. One snowy morning in January I turn up at her office on the verge of anaphylaxis and beg them into treating me instead of sending me to the ER. Those in the waiting room that day had to be baffled if not amused by me. I was scratching and clawing at myself so much I know they had to be thinking I was either coming off a high of some sort illegal drug, or I had a disease for which I should really be put in my own room. Thus I was sent to the allergist.
For women, if we know we are going to spent some portion of a doctor visit, either wearing paper or even less our “Cute Quotient” must be at a certain level to be able to do this. Ladies, you know what I’m saying. A low self esteem, bad hair, feeling fat day is the wrong day for a visit of this sort. Luckily for me, my “Cute Quotient” is in the “somewhat high” range that day. My hair was looking good –skinny jeans were fitting well. I’m feeling ever so plucky and witty. I’m ready!
This was a snowy day in the “Greater Tri-State Area.” Cold, wet, gloppy snow was coming down with a loud “thud” on windshields and foreheads. Upon entering the clinic my “Cute Quotient” immediately fell five points when the staff laughed out loud at all the gloppy snow on my ever so cute hair. GRRRRRR.
After a lengthy interview with a nurse whose hair seemed too highlighted in too many colors and whose lipstick and scrubs seemed to match too well for me to take her seriously, the real fun began. But back to the nurse, I’m frightful she may have gone to a college that (I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP) requires no clinical skills to graduate with a nursing degree. I hear the advert for the “school” on the radio.