I’m knee deep in an exhaustive number of medical appointments, blood tests, vaccinations, clinical report-gathering, etc. for my Peace Corps clearance (while dragging a terrific memoir named How to Cook a Crocodile, about a NYC chef who served in the Peace Corps over age 50, to offices and hospitals all around metro Atlanta). I think it’s gonna come down to the Snuffaluffagus drugs.
Since I’m allergic to penicillin (or at least that’s what I’ve been saying my whole life), I need to be allergy-tested for a whole class of drugs (that sounds like Snuffaluffagus to me) on which the Peace Corps relies to see if I can withstand them. This can go either way, folks, and either way is whatever is meant to be. Am trusting the journey . . .