I woke up this morning ... itchin' like a bitch
So I jumped into the shower guessing that perhaps I was having a reaction to something on my skin, then in perfect horror movie style I wiped the mirror free of condensation to reveal I was a godawful freak.
My face was swollen. I looked 15 years older, and had sillier lips than when Meg Ryan had her collagen mistake a few years back.
Walking back into the bedroom I woke up Anne and said "We have to go to ER".
Anne was Cool Hand Luke. She calmly observed my hive riddled torso, dressed, gave me some Benedryl and bundled me into the car. A taxi moving like a drowsy snail held us up for a while, so Anne rode his tail until he pulled over like an old lady pulling a caravan on a Sunday afternoon jaunt in the countryside.
Once in ER, they jabbed me with a cocktail of stuff administered from one of those liquid bags that looks like the world's worst breast implant.
I'm fine. What sucks is that I had to miss my 'Hand Doctor' appointment. The past few weeks have been agony. A click of the mouse hurts like crazy, and that sucks when your only talent in life is clicking a mouse.