Today Full Speed had an evaluation by an allergist. I have suspected that he may have some seasonal issues and frankly, if he has my DNA, odds are he might be allergic to something. Fire ants, anyone?
He was quiet as we waited for the nurse to perform his skin tests. He did not enjoy the process. He writhed about and complained vociferously as over 50 scratches of allergens were placed up and down the length of his back. Then, all we had to do was wait fifteen minutes for the results. He questioned me emphatically as to why this craziness had to be done, and I said so we could better understand how to treat him when he is sneezy.
“Once the doctor returns, he’s going to ‘read’ the marks on your back and let us know if you’re allergic to anything,” I explained.
“I already know, Mom. I’m allergic to needles,” he said. At this point he was ready to pack it up and be on his way.
Miraculously, despite his direct genetic link to me, he was allergic to absolutely nothing (switched at birth?). Well, not including the needles.