Yesterday, I took the boys to get allergy tested.
Little E has chronic hives. His last flare up was so bad, it looked like the measles.
Big E has had two allergic reactions to two different types of nuts. One resulted in us pulling over on the side of Peachtree Battle so he could hurl in the bushes of one of the stately mansions lining the street. Sorry rich people.
I was preparing for the worst, after the flu shot bonanza, where Big E attempted an escape, only to be tackled by a nurse before he reached his freedom.
After waiting in the lobby forever, we were finally called back. Both boys were weighed, measured, and had their blood pressure taken. Thank goodness they didn't take mine. I'm sure it was through the roof as I was STRESSING this appointment. I had even applied extra, EXTRA deodorant and water proof mascara.
Big E immediately began laying out his case for why he shouldn't have any shots.
I pulled the nurse aside and asked her if we could split the boys up if they were both being allergy tested today. I wanted to avoid a repeat of the flu shot freakout.
Thankfully, Little E was diagnosed with plain hives occurring in 20% of the population with no known cause (sweet). He was off the hook for allergy testing.
But Big E was not. And he did not know what was about to go down.
Big E remained glued to his Kindle and I was so glad I had brought it. We had now been waiting over an hour and had had very little doctor action.
Things changed fast when the nurse walked in with her tray of terror. Rows and rows of arm pricks.
Big E's voice went up about seven octaves.
WHAT ARE THOSE? NEEDLES? I SAID NO SHOTS!
The doctor heard his escalating concerns and came in to help the nurse hold Big E's arm so they could mark it with a pen and get down to business.
Big E began crying as soon as she cleaned his arm with alcohol and then moved on to full-on murderous screams as she scratched up his arm. It took a minute at most.
Then we were left in the room with the giant toy bin to wait to see how his arm reacted.
Big E and I got down to business. We each grabbed a super bouncy ball from the toy bin and played a close range game of mini-dodgeball. It was all out war in that 9x9 room. I'm sure we were making a ruckus, but we were going on two hours of being there and even I was getting a little nutty (see what I did there?)
The doctor finally reappeared. Big E and I had both broken a sweat. It was time to read his arm.
He was going to meet the girl of his dreams and embark on a semi-successful career path at a mid-sized regional company. Oh wait. That's a palm reading.
His arm reading. It was clear as day, not so much in the above picture though. Cashews for the win. Which we already knew.
I received a quick lesson in stabbing your kid with an EPI pen. Once he told me that I didn't have to stab him as hard as they did in Pulp Fiction, that was all I could think about. Royale with cheese, anyone?
A few takeaways. It was not as bad as I expected. I had even made these:
Instead, I am now carrying around two zip lock bags full of candy in my purse. If we have another show-stopping ice storm this year, Mrs. Yoy's Toyota will be THE place to party on 285.
If I don't have a chance (or reason) to write again before the end of the year, Happy Holidays!!
And if you are lucky enough to be on the Yoyser holiday card list, you are so very welcome.