Over the past few months, my wife and I have noticed that Oliver’s face breaks out randomly throughout the day. Our doctor asked that we send pictures, and she immediately concurred that he suffers from non-food allergies. We informed her that the blotches and small hives quickly dissipate after a few minutes, and that they never seem to bother the little guy, but she seemed concerned enough to refer us to an allergist.
Some people say this was inevitable. I have almost always been known for my ridiculous allergies. When I was 22, my cell phone voicemail message was “Hi, I’m Thomas. I am allergic to apples, bananas, chocolate, coffee, cola, corn, and peanuts. Please leave a message.” I figured that enough people had asked what I could or couldn’t eat, and I wanted to help eliminate the question altogether.
When I was in fifth grade, my parents began to discover that I was allergic to cats, dust mites, and everything ever. I went to an allergist while I was in middle school, and was asked to undergo the widely known “scratch test.” After having my back ripped open under a hot light, I was told that the entire world is at war with my immune system.
Over the past 20 years, I have taken countless medications, avoided all sorts of foods and creatures, received weekly allergy shots throughout high school, and routinely dealt with sinus problems on a daily basis. I am a mess.
And now Oliver has to start this process as an infant. While I certainly do not feel responsible for my son’s condition, I cannot help but feel frustrated. My friends have always joked that my kid was doomed, but I still held out hope that he would not inherit my terrible immune system. This process was tough for me as an adolescent, and I cannot imagine being tested and treated as an infant. Poor kid. If any parents out there have navigated this process with their babies, I would love some advice.
The allergist will be seeing us on Friday. I can only hope that Oliver isn’t allergic to the doctor. That would be quite the predicament.