It’s hard to believe that the Red Sox will be playing in the World Series today, after being down three games to the Yankees in the ALCS… Anyway, where was I?

Oh, right, my allergist appointment on Tuesday. You may or may not know this, but I have a bit of a phobia when it comes to sharp objects, especially as regards their ability to draw blood. This has been a problem for me as long as I can remember – I especially remember the color draining from my face during a high school classmates’ presentation on snakebite remedies, and I certainly remember having to leave the classroom during an anti-abortion presentation. We had to stop the car once because I was reading Jurassic Park – bloody dinosaur mayhem mixed with a bit of motion sickness was clearly a bad combination. Fortunately, I can generally recover by removing myself from the situation. I’ve wondered what the end result of my discomfort would be, but I certainly never imagined that it would result in unconsciousness. That is, until this past Tuesday.

Strike one was when my allergist mentioned the possibility of allergy shots. This wasn’t even likely at that point, of course, but it may have got my subconscious on the wrong track. Strike two was the skin pricks on my back to test for allergies.  But they didn’t really hurt that much, I couldn’t see them, and I was pretty sure there was no blood. Strike three was the doctor’s decision to make absolutely sure that I wasn’t allergic to a few things – seven little shots under the skin in my right arm, like tuberculosis tests.

I was brave, and still felt fine even after the shots, though the last one was a bit painful, and there was a little blood there, and there… But, no big deal, it’s over, the nurse is gone, just fifteen minutes and she’ll be back to check the results. I’ve got time to read my book. Yes, this is an interesting chapter. But why am I feeling pale? Ugh, a little more blood on my arm. I need to clear my head. Walk around a bit. Deep breath. Not getting better. This is not good. What is wrong with me? I think I’ll step out of the office. Get some fresh air in the hall. A doctor walks over, wonders if I’m okay; I rub my eyes, can’t see very well…

And the next thing I know, I’m looking up at a number of faces, lying on the floor, leaning slightly against some equipment. A nurse lifts my legs, and they give me an oxygen mask… How embarrassing. Apparently the seeds of subconscious discontent had been sown, and there was no turning back. Fortunately, I got away with only wounded pride and a rug burn on my knee. The doctor insisted that I take this seriously in the future, warn people that I might have this reaction, and lie on the floor the next time it gets bad, so I don’t hurt myself on the way down. Sigh.

Thankfully, I’m not completely limited by my strange reactions. I was pleasantly surprised to make it through three childbirths without so much as a light head. I don’t tend to have much trouble at the dentist, either. A bloody nose is no big deal. But, please, keep the needles away. Try not to talk much about blood, particularly about it leaving the body. Blood drives are out of the question for me – please give a little extra on my behalf. And certainly don’t suggest any kind of surgery without anesthesia. Just knock me out – that’s probably where I’m headed anyway.