Last week, I took Nolan to the allergist.
He's had problems on and off his entire life. I've been managing to get him through his seasonal bouts, the flare-ups, but I knew deep down he probably needed something more effective.
Yeah, here he is 12, and I've finally thrown in the towel.
Actually, as he will be getting braces in the next year or so, I thought it might be nice if the poor boy could be free and clear, breathing-wise, before he has a metal mouth.
I was pleasantly surprised that the doctor took a lot of time with us, compiling history, examining him, and actually listening to both of us and our concerns. Yet it was odd to have the doctor address him directly. I realized in the middle of the appointment that truly he is a big boy, and he can speak for himself.
What a revelation. I'm pleased.
But I felt a twinge in my chest nonetheless.
Anyway, the doctor will be doing some skin testing on him next appt and sent me home with a list of allergens they ordinarily test for. He also recommended I look around the house and neighborhood for things that may be around in our environment but not necessarily on the list.
All in all, about twenty items on the list; here are the high points: cat, dog, grasses of more kinds than I thought could exist in a yard, weeds, cockroach mix (eww), a few molds, and dust mites. TWO kinds of dust mite--who knew that those little buggers could be differentiated?
Something tells me that does not bode well for me. I hate to dust, and that is a well-known fact. I'm getting better at it, only because the dogs, especially Max, track in a lot of dirt. Between that and the shedding, I'm pretty busy with the vacuum.
So busy, in fact, that my vacuum sighs and begs for mercy when I takeit out of the closet.
"We'll see him back in a week or two," the doctor said, as he walked us back out to the front.
As I was scheduling the appointment, I casually grabbed a pen out of the cup on the counter to write down when we needed to come back.
Make no mistake: I'd spotted this cup the second I approached the desk when we were signing in earlier. My receptionist-radar told me that these were probably nice, drug-rep pens.
I stood there, checking that the date she gave me was okay, knowing that the she would give me a card with the info on it. I doodled anyway, writing the date on the bottom of my allergens list.
Oooh, nice pen. Hmm. I will take the high road here, I decided.
"Can I keep this pen?" I nonchalantly asked her.
She replied, "Sure, take as many as you want. We have tons of them."
...tons of them...tons of them...echoed in my mind, as I resisted the temptation to open my purse up and dump in a couple, or five, or the whole cupful.
They have no idea who they're dealing with.
"Thanks." I took one. Really. I don't want to be labelled the "Pen-klepto lady."
As long as they always have one for me, we'll get along juuust fine.