This morning was the first day of the new school year and did I spend it reviling in regained freedom from fighting or tears from letting my babies go? Nope. I spent it in a panicked state at the doctors office. I hate to admit that I was that concerned but pride be damned, I was worried.
Worried because last night I went to bed with a few bumps on my chin thinking I was getting acne. Worried because all night I had dreams of being bitten by ants, having spiders crawl on me and another dream of me being forced to wear a woolen union suit while singing “Tiny Dancer” Of course in my mind the song is sung as “Hold Me Closer Tony Danza” I know, I know…just when you think the level of weirdness of my life can go no higher….it goes to Eleven.
Returning to my story now… I awoke in a damn near panic when I found that my neck, chest and face were covered in raised, itchy, red welts.
No, this was not good. I don’t have any serious allergies and I have not been trapsing in the bush so this was unexpected and bad….very bad. I called my doctor and she suggested I come in just after I dropped the girls off at school. I had the entire car ride to sit and stew about what my options were in regards to my new acquired illness.
Dear God, it’s Measles. I bet it’s Measles. Those miserable lunatic anti-Vaxer nut jobs have finally done it and given me Measles. Twenty minutes of traffic jammed madness later and I had warped myself into quite the frenzy. I was practically chewing on the steering wheel as I pulled in to the doctor’s parking lot.
Once checked in I decided to wait outside on the covered porch in case I was contagious. The waiting room was full and I was nervous that if I did have something horrible I would pass it along. Got a few weird looks for standing out in the rain, but my self-induced martyrdom shielded me. ” I’m doing this for you!!!” I screamed back through the window (well, in my head that is) “Just say thank you!!”
As I stood in damp exile I started to ponder again about having Measles. My God, what would I do? I have incredible friends and I know they would do what they could but be realistic…..they have their own lives. No, this would be a disaster.
On top of it all, not only would I be sick, but I would be incarcerated for beating the hell out of the first anti-Vaxer I could get my hands on.
It’s true.That’s the idea that ripped through my brain. I thought it, accepted it as a fact and rapidly began to plan for the outcome. I was going to jail. I wasn’t upset about the jail part. That was simply the inevitable outcome of a scenario in which I contracted Measles.
As quickly as my plan formed a memory of my father popped into my head. Years after I left high school my mom told me once about a time my dad was going to solve a problem I had. It seems that when I was 17 I had my heartbroken by a boy (I know, hardly original) and I spent a few days sobbing on the couch. I’m sure ice cream was involved. Part way through one of sobbing episodes my mother looked out the front window to see my dad heading to the car. Leaning out the window she asked where he was going.
With great calmness and decisiveness of purpose he announced that,” Cecelia was still crying so he was going to beat the shit out of the little bastard.” My mom, not usually known for her calm nature, but understanding the severity of the situation, spoke in relaxing, even-tones to remind him that he couldn’t go beating up a teen age boy; that he would get arrested. My father stopped again, and replied, “No, no. It’s okay, I have the check book with me.” He knew perfectly well that it was wrong to beat his daughter’s boyfriend to a bloody pulp and he was willing to accept the consequences. He was bringing the check book to post bail. It was the price he was willing to pay.
I saw the doctor and I do not have Measles. FYI, measles is not itchy, I did not know that. I am having an allergic reaction to something. I have medications now and all should be well. Unless it’s the start of a new developing allergy and I may be beginning a life-long process of itchy hell. Either is an option. Personally, I’m hoping for option number one.
I did learn something about myself today, however. I am prepared to pay the consequences for my actions. If I or one of my children end up catching one of these hideous diseases because someone is trying to have their fifteen minutes of ill-deserved fame, I have no problem knocking them into next week. Hell, I’ve got a contingency plan started for it. Sure I’ll end up in jail, but at least I will have done something. Something positive in my book.
I accept that it’s not the most adult or mature way to handle the situation. However maturity, logic and education combined hasn’t been terribly helpful in reigning in these wackos. Perhaps a little wall-to-wall counselling is in order after all. I bet I could get away with it. All If have to do is plead genetics. It’s in my blood, I have no choice. If it was good enough for my old man, it’s good enough for me.