Itchy Itchy Itchy

The post below, "Itchy Itchy Itchy," was actually written on January 11, 2011.  Sometimes I think before I post.  Sometimes I don't.
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After itching and scratching for over three weeks I finally made it to the doctor.

After waking up to: a swollen face one day, a portion of my lip being swollen on another and swollen fingertips on yet another I finally made it to the doctor.

After diagnosing myself with tools provided by google and webMD I finally made it to the doctor.

When I saw that two of my knuckles were twice their normal size I thought maybe I should go to the doctor.

 After I called MinDog for the millionth time each day of the three weeks telling her my time on earth was about to come to an end because I had every disease ever explored in every Lifetime movie I made it to the doctor.

After realizing that the constant itching and scratching and random swelling wasn't connected to an allergy I know I have, I finally made it to the doctor.

After looking in the mirror one too may times and thinking my normally brown skin looked gray I made it to the doctor.

After my tongue kept itching and I couldn't adequately scratch it I finally made it to the doctor.

After noticing I was bruising myself with all the scratching and becoming worried about scarring my skin that I love so much I finally made it to the doctor.

When one of my friends heard about all my symptoms and said, " next you're going to grow a tail," I thought it's time to make my way to the doctor.

After not making it to the gym for three weeks because I was physically weak and vomiting and itching and therefore scratching I finally made to the doctor.

After convincing myself that the doctor was going to tell me my self- diagnosis of having every disease known to man (except HIV- I knew I didn't have that because I had a test recently- like everyone should) I finally made it to the doctor.

Before I continue let me tell you- I hate hospitals.  They literally make me sick.  After the third night of itching I did consider going to the emergency room.  I decided against it because I knew that would create more anxiety and I would probably hyperventilate and die even sooner.  I had to wait until the private doctor could see me and that was that.

After scaring myself half to death I called my mom(I had be calling her throughout of course and she kept telling me I needed to go to the doctor) and my dad(it's rare that we converse but he is still my dad and he thinks he's a doctor and somehow that's comforting but this time he didn't try to diagnose my symptoms he told me  I needed to go to the doctor) .  I finally made it to the doctor.

Now this is where it gets funny...as old as I am I was so scared that I actually took my mother and father(mind you they have been divorced for about 9000 years and haven't spoken in about 10000 years, so the two of them going anywhere together is absurd- but for the love of their child they did it...yes, I even had both of them in the exam room with me- I was scared for my life people... side note- THIS SITUATION IS A VERY GOOD EXAMPLE OF WHY I ONLY WANT A DOG CHILD.  I don't think I have it in me to do what my parents did that day- uh, I think I may be selfish... whatever I am, I recognize that being a parent is life long and I don't have that kind of commitment in me.  Notice I don't even own my dog child yet.  A dog child requires a commitment but not one akin to what a human child demands... there will be no sucking up of any feelings and quieting my soul because of my dog child- only human children make those two things a part of life... and you can totally have a dog child alone and not fight discouragement, the way my mother so admirably did,  when her husband at the time decided that only she should be responsible for the three kids they created together---uh oh I'm supposed to be talking about the itch and I've gone off on a tangent that I considered editing immediately but then decided this is today's truth so I'm leaving it in... the more run-on sentences the better...).

Needless to say the car ride was comedy.  I can't go into details(this is already too personal I think) but all I was thinking the entire time was- WHY DIDN'T I MAKE MINDOG COME TOO?!?!  If I had done that someone else would have been there to witness the absurdity.  Relaying the story in its entirety just doesn't do the day justice.  I will say it was the best theatrical experience I ever had and never want to repeat- mind you about 80% of it happened in silence and the 20% that wasn't silent was me talking.

After all this- what happens?  With my parents in the room, the doctor takes blood, thoroughly examines me, asks me a gazillion questions, allows me to tell him all the diseases I think I have which causes me to land at the verge of tears over my death that is about to come too soon  and then he gives me three prescriptions and tells me I could have a particular disorder but he won't know until my tests come back but the higher probability is that I'M ALLERGIC TO LIFE.

I'm writing about this because the tests are back and  it seems the allergy to life was the correct diagnosis.  I still don't buy it but all tests to date say that's what it is...I've acquired an allergy to life. The soles of my feet are itching, my entire body is itching and I can't stop scratching because I've acquired an allergy to life... Does that sound normal to anyone?

WHAT THE WHAT?

Why are some Malcom X but I'm a walking Lifetime movie?  Anybody want to write the script?