As a kid, I had terrible allergies and asthma. It was so bad, I can remember choking on phlegm so badly that I couldn’t breathe. Once my dad had to hold me up by my feet while my mom pounded on my back to clear my lungs. I had to go to the hospital several times for adrenaline shots. It was very scary.

When the back test lit me up like a Christmas tree, I had to start getting allergy shots twice a week.

Eventually, I had a scratch test on the insides of both arms. I was allergic to so many of the things they tested me for, they game me a broader scratch test on my back. When the back test lit me up like a Christmas tree, I had to start getting allergy shots twice a week. On Mondays I would get two shots in one arm, and one in the other. On Thursdays I’d go back for two in the other one, and one in the first arm.

I did this for three years. I would walk to the doctor’s office from school and I’d have to wait 15 or 20 minutes for them to see if I had a reaction. Most days my triceps would swell to double their normal size and I’d walk home with these hanging bags of flesh dangling and painfully swinging around as I walked. Some days I’d have to fold my arms across my chest and hold them with my hands to keep them from swinging.

If that wasn’t bad enough, my brat of a sister would wait until we were alone and I wasn’t paying attention and punch or swat one of my hanging arm bags! And she was a girl, so I couldn’t hit her back! But man, I wanted to.

The shots worked. Today I have hardly any allergy symptoms. An occasional flareup, but nothing like when I was younger.