It was a warm March day in 1963 as I sat in study hall around 3rd period at Bellport High School, not feeling very well. I had a rather large headache and I hadn’t had the pleasure of drinking anything to warrant it. Soon the chills took over and I asked Mr. Handscomb, the study hall monitor to send me to the nurse’s office. She looked into my eyes, whispered: “You are sick, go home” and my Dad picked me up and took me home.
Mom was on one of her cleaning bingest hat morning, everything smelling of pine and disinfectant as I was informed that if I was too sick for school, I had to go to bed. I was more than happy to accommodate her sentiment and did so.
I entered my bedroom and noticed that Mom had all the windows in the room open, as I went to lie on the bed. I took off my shoes and lay there for a while. I started to feel this little itchy bump on my toe, then another. Kind of early for mosquitoes, but one managed to get into the house with all the windows opened. I started to look for the ^R&*)&^T&*^R& mosquito all over the room, ceiling, under the bed, walls everywhere. The mosquito was winning and I was getting eaten alive.
“Ma we have a mosquito in the house.”
“What?”
“Look at me!”
“You have hives!”
“I have what?”
“Hives, it’s something you ate, what have you been eating lately that’s different?”
“Nothing but the strawberries I’ve been picking at my job on the farm.
Sure enough, the doctor confirmed the fact that Mom is a doctor too.
Although I still eat strawberries, I still fear the outbreak of hives.
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