When I was young, I was always sick (some people are not surprised, I know).
Sneezing. Coughing. Horrible nightmares. I walked in my sleep so I wasn’t allowed to go to sleep-overs.
One day – I think I was around 12 or 13 – Mom took me to a new doctor and he changed my life.
He lived in a beautiful, old house with an attached office. The waiting room always smelled like bacon (I can only guess that the kitchen was right next to the examining rooms) and mold (Old house on Long Island. It’s gonna happen). Looking out the back windows, you could see horses in the field.
The doctor looked, I’m not kidding, like Santa. He had a big, booming laugh. Kinda balding but white hair. White beard. And he’d give me a hug whenever he saw me.
He did these tests. I had no idea what they were. Mom took me back every week so I could get a shot and I started to feel better. When he gave me the shots…it was unreal. You knew he was coming but you never felt it. After a few weeks I finally asked what the shots were for. “Allergies”, he said.
I go for allergy shots now and, EVERY TIME, I think of him. When I’m holding an ice pack to my arm because – I swear – the nurses just don’t know how to give shots, I think of him.
He really was an amazing man and this article only enforces that.
I haven’t seen him since I was in my early 20’s, and yet, I will still miss him.