Friday, November 15, 2013

Nov. 30, 2011 Journal Entry - My morning visit with Sgt. Carter....

An old post I'm resurrecting.


My morning with Sgt. Carter....

November 30, 2011 at 11:57pm
So funny story...  Scratch that, let’s call it a really long story.  Today I had to have a repeat Allergy test (RAST) because my 2009 test was expired, (who knew allergy tests expire) and I am get to start allergy shots after the Holiday's.  Yey me.  Anyone who has had this done knows what I'm talking about. They don't feel like angel's kisses, especially after about number 15. How it works is they draw circles on your back from shoulder blade to waist line in rows for each test (in my case it's 53 circles) then they take an evil looking little hooked needle, punch it down into your skin, then twist and jerk it off to the side to "tear" a little of the skin.  Each hook has been dipped into a liquid form of the allergen they are testing you for, ie: 7 tree saps, 6 grass pollens, several animal danders, molds, dust mites, milk products, nuts, etc.  In my mind I associate this with getting a tattoo from someone who really hates you. So Nurse "Ilik'ta Enflict-Payne" comes in and hands me a paper gown to put on, opening in the back.  Paper so you don't bleed on their nice fabric gowns (her words not mine).  So I get the gown on and assume the position face down on the table, gown open in the back.  She commences drawing the circles (she doesn't talk much except to give me orders like "don't fidget, stop moving, keep your head still", ya know, giving me a pep talk).  So she finishes with her art work and then she suddenly gets chatty.  "Oh I forgot to tell you, I ordered the four by four needles like we used last time, but Keesler prefers the 2 by 2 needles because they are cheaper.  Not my fault, but they are twice the size of the four by fours so I just wanted to tell you, this might not be as much fun as it was last time you were here".  I laughed thinking, finally Miss Personality makes a joke.  Naw, she wasn't joking.  By the time she had finished all 53 "pricks" (also her word, not mine, though perhaps appropriate) I had recited the entire "Naval Sailor's Thesaurus of Commonly Used Swears, Drunken Edition" in my head, twice. Okay, so my pride won't let me flinch or say anything out loud, because I'm tough.  Not to mention, how much of a baby would I be if I fussed about a little test when James just had a horrible surgery and bounced by like a champ.  So I just lay there, thinking bad things about Nurse Hachette and how she kind of reminds me of Sgt. Carter from Gomer Pyle, except she's a lot taller and bulkier.  But she really sounds like him too.  (I might be exaggerating because I feel she was enjoying her job way too much).  So finally she is done, now I just have to lay on the table, being still as the night, for 15 minutes while the test sites welt up.  Then Sgt. Carter will read the size of the welts and grade them on my results screen.  So worst part is over…………. Naw. After about three minutes I began to wonder if some of the allergen agents might have been ingredients in a Nuclear bomb.  Another minute or two go by and I'm certain that she was testing my tolerance to hydrochloric acid and several other biological agents the EPA has banned in 13 countries.  HOLY COW!  It didn't burn like this last time.  I turned my head a little to see if maybe she was holding an acetylene torch to my back for giggles. 1. She wasn't.  2. She sniped at me to lay my head back down and be still.  After my 15 mins. go by, I'm sweating like a politician in church, and twitching like a crack addict on day 3 of rehab!  (And crack addicts of the world, I apologize for lumping you into the same category as politicians.  I know, not nice).  So she records my results, while yelling at me to keep still.  Then she scrubs my back with a gauze pad soaked in alcohol.  Uh huh, alcohol.  BUT the alcohol burning was sweet relief comparatively.  At least it was temporarily.  She hands me my results sheet and sends me down the hallway to talk to the doc again.  So I’m trying desperately not to look like a Baloo from Jungle Book scratching his hind quarters on a tree while sitting in the chair talking to doc, but he is giving me a look like there is a Christmas tree growing out of my forehead, so I don’t think I was particularily successful.  Finally, he cut me loose with instruction to go home and take double my allergy meds and rub some benedryl cream on my back.  I made it home, and it’s a Christmas miracle because didn’t get pulled over.  It is REALLY hard to drive straight while rubbing your back all around on the back rest of the car seat.  No really try it sometime.  So I’m laying here in bed, not sleeping thank you, thinking I may just need to get up and get some 40 grit sand paper out of the shop and duct tape it to my pillow and sleep shirtless on that.  Yeah the burn stopped hours ago and was replaced by his good friend, Mr. Itch on steroids.  Thank God life is never boring around here!  "It's the Itchy and Scratchy Shooooow".

No comments:

Post a Comment