What a prick

So the last few weeks of this Midwestern summer have been a nuisance to my allergies. (And with that stimulating opening sentence I'd like to say farewell to those who have already zoned out.) Today I went to visit my allergy doctor to see what's going on. She suggested that I take an extensive skin test to see what allergies I'm dealing with. Basically this very technical procedure involves the doctor pricking my back with toothpicks 47 times. Each prick tests for a different allergy and if it causes a reaction that means you have that particular ailment. Within two minutes my back is on fire. Fifteen minutes later the doctor walks in and says "Whoa, I think I need to get my sunglasses." I think that was her ever so comical way of saying that my back was bright red. She states that she has never seen a patient react with this many allergies. The next thing I know she has corralled two nurses, another doctor, and a guy that looks like Steve Sanders from 90210. They all stare down at me, intently studying the lying freak show with the rash they only have ever seen in a medical school textbook. In the end out of the 47 allergies they tested for I have 43 of them. (Try harder next time molds.) So basically I shouldn't mow the lawn, adopt a cat, take up smoking, rake leaves, get stung by a wasp, cut down a tree, take up a career arranging flowers, or jog through a field of poppies. Welcome to the life of a shut-in.