what's up doc

Today I found myself in the role of patient, rather than wannabe physician. By way of background, I have terrible nasal allergies and was meaning to get checked out for a long time. My dad finally got around to calling his colleague - an Ear, Nose & Throat specialist - and scheduled an apppointment for this morning.

A few points. Being the child of physicians has some unique perks and drawbacks. First of all, any doctor I see tends to be affiliated with my parents. Second, whatever injuries / symptoms I have will be either self-medicated or ignored until there is a truly adverse effect. For example, I had a hernia surgery in high school. Post-op, the surgeon prescribed some prescription painkillers. My dad scoffed at the prescription, and told me that Tylenol would be fine. I do admit that the Tylenol worked, but I still suffered from pain - especially while laughing and/or coughing.

A side-story: during my recovery, my brother played a very cruel trick. As I lay in bed one day, he came into the room and put the tape of the movie "UHF" into the VCR. For those of you who do not know it, it's a Weird Al Yankovic movie. Enough said. The sadism, however, can be traced to when my brother took the remote and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Let me remind you that I could not move from the bed, and that laughter resulted in serious pain. A funny practical joke, perhaps. But only because I was on Tylenol and not narcs.

I return to my original theme. The doctors I see are all connected to my parents. The ENT this morning was a great doctor, but it did not escape my mind that she knows my dad. Hence some hesitation on my part when answering some questions that did not really require any thought:

"Do you smoke?"
No.

"Drink?"
Ummmm .... uhhhh ... no? (Secretly hoping that occassional imbibing is not the cause of my nighttime sniffling and sneezing, but not cough symptoms).

"Do you take your allergy medications regularly?"
Yes. No. I mean sometimes. I'm supposed to. Please don't tell my dad.

On the whole the appointment went fine. I luckily do not need surgery for my recently diagnosed deviated septum. She did a rhinoscopy (sticking a thin fiber optic camera into my nose). There were two screens in the room, and I got to see a real-time version of my nose in action. Quite disgusting, actually. But in all honesty, still better than Alexander. She also took some photos and gave me a glossy copy. It can go right into my album of school photographs. Unfortunately the neon laser beam backdrop was not available today.

The ENT suggested that I see an allergist as soon as possible and actually get tested in order to determine whether I should get immunotherapy, or allergy shots. Dr. Dad swooped in with his connections and got me an appointment for this afternoon. Now, I was not prepared for seeing an allergist or for what became a game of "pin the tail on every freaking part of my upper arm." But that is exactly what I got.

The Doctor was extremely nice and obviously very knowledgeable. After we met, he asked me, "So you are a junior?" It took me a minute, but I soon realized that my dad must have mentioned that I'm planning on going to medical school. I had to correct him and give him the abbreviated story: "worked, wrong career, med school, post-bac." When he learned I used to be an investment banker, his reaction - although quite animated - did not surprise me. "Are you crazy?? Why would you want to leave finance and become a doctor??"

Sigh. I wonder if my dad set him up for this, for that is his argument as well.

Aside from the career inquisition, the appointment proceeded smoothly. The doctor injected my arm with 15 different allergens, and I had to wait twenty minutes to see which I reacted to. By the time the waiting period was over, my arm looked as if it had been barraged by savage mosquitoes. Since he had spaced the shots pretty equally, my arm resembled a mangled flesh checkerboard. Or human bubble wrap.

The result: "You are basically allergic to everything." Hmph. I could've told you that, but I suppose now I have the proof. He suggested I begin allergy shot therapy. Sounded simple enough right ... maybe a few shots and then, presto! I'm cured! Unfortunately, nothing can be so easy. Apparently I would have to get shots over the next 3-4 years. Once a week for like six months, and then once or twice a month forevermore.

Hmmm .... I can't commit to anything for more than a month. My gym plans have fallen off my radar, as has my plan for taking a daily multivitamin (why do they make those pellets so damn huge??). Allergy shots. Allergy shots. What to do? I'd rather just bear the pain of allergies. Though I say that now, when the ragweed is down. Ask me again the next time my hay fever kicks in.

So I'm back at home, with two tasks to complete: 1) a haircut in the morning and 2) studying for my midterm on Monday. I made it to mosque tonight, where they had some kebabs after service. I love kebabs. I don't think I could ever be a vegetarian. However, I did take notice of some very precocious behavior by some kids in our mosque. Two examples:

1) The 8 year old daughter of very close family friend of ours ran by me. I grabbed her and said "Hello? Don't I get a hug?" She obliged and held her arms up for me to carry her. I picked her up and gave her a kiss. To which she responded "When are you going to get married?"

2) Some pre-teen boys were shuffling past where my friend and I were standing. We heard one kid comment to another "This place smells like balls." My friend and I glanced at each other with that "Did he really just say that?" look on our faces.

I came home and comforted myself with the most divine treat ever. Falooda Kulfi Ice cream. I don't know if this is a newly created product, but my mom recently purchased it from Patel Brothers. It's phenomenal. It is rose flavored ice cream, with the falooda sev AND the tukmariya eyeballs already *in* the mix. For those of you non-brownies out there, please forgive me for my cultural vacuum here. I can't explain it to you though. You must have it. And don't let the eyeballs freak you out. They're actually quite good.