“This will be uncomfortable,” the nurse said as she picked up the first of the 8 allergy testers and brought it toward my arm.
“Wait–is it going to hurt? Because every time someone says something is uncomfortable, it hurts.”
The nurse paused. “Well, it doesn’t hurt me. How sensitive are you?”
She put down the allergy tester and explained in detail what she was about to do, which was to prick me with plastic needle-like (“but they’re not needles”) tools that would inject allergens into my skin, but only under the first layer.
“So it doesn’t even go very deep under the skin,” she finished. “Ready?”
“Uh–” I laughed. Clearly I had no choice. “Go ahead.”
It turned out the allergy test was the least uncomfortable part of the visit to this specialist.
This specialist essentially told me:
1.) I don’t have allergies or asthma, which I already knew.
2.) My throat is clogged, which I definitely already knew.
3.) That I’m not being patient enough, which in general is true, but in this case I’ve been dealing with the condition for 2 months now so I think that’s the most patience I’ve ever had about anything.
4.) That I’m making it worse by expecting it to happen every time I run, even though every time I run I expect it NOT to happen because I really want it not to happen.
5.) That I shouldn’t run for a while, even though the only way I know whether it’s better or not is by running.
So I wasn’t overly impressed by this specialist, who then prescribed me about a million different nasal sprays (or 2; who’s counting?), along with another inhaler, and, in case they don’t work…dun dun DUN: steroids!
If it ends up that I should have just taken those stupid steroids in the first place to save myself a month of panicking over not being able to train for the marathon–
Well, I’m going to accept it because that is the calm, sane, smart, adult thing to do.
Hahaha. No really, I am.