Anything But the Sun

I tried to step out of the house during the day today, again. But just a few steps into the sun, I ran back into my apartment. There was something about the light that made the hair on my back stand. Even with my sunglasses on, the glare was too much for my eyes. Three minutes was the longest time I was out in the sun in my adult life. The fire alarm made me do it. Even then I wore three layers of blanket over myself. And when someone pulled away the blanket over me, I ran back into the apartment that was possibly on fire. Lucky me, it wasn’t. Even if it was, I would have still stayed inside. The only reason I went out was because of the annoying alarm sound, not my safety. That was how bad the sun was to me. It was almost equivalent to the death of me.

I wasn’t always allergic to the sun. I used to play with other kids at school in the playground back when I was younger. I played football, baseball or police and thief. Oh, how I missed those days. It was all fine until I got into an accident running towards third base when we were playing baseball. It was never the same again after I had a blood transfusion. My mother told me I had a very rare blood type. And someone who wanted to remain anonymous donated the blood.

My allergy also came with psychological pain when I was a kid. Kids being kids, they started to call me Count Dracula. The kids at school avoided me. I remember them surprising me with a necklace of garlic at my desk. Someone even wrote a note to me using tomato ketchup.

The funny thing is, my parents never wanted to believe that I had such allergy. They said it was all in my head. They tried almost everything to get me out of the house. They tempted me with funfairs that passed through our town, my favourite football team playing in the stadium, and even an outdoor concert by my favourite artist from the Bahamas. Nothing worked. I knew for sure I was allergic to the sun.

I embraced my condition by wearing clothing that covers most of my skin and sunglasses and face mask wherever I went. People would stare at me and some would even came up to me asking me if I was a celebrity. I knew the attention was just part of embracing my allergy. Yet, there were days when it got too much. I remember the time when I was walking passed a bank carrying my groceries. A couple of policemen mistook me for one of the bank robbers. They took me to the station and questioned me for hours until my mother came over and lawyered them.

Another time when it got too much was when my so called fashion became a trend at school. It was something that I thought was cool at first, but after a while, it annoyed the heck out of me. Everyone wanted to be my friend. Everyone wanted a piece of me. I knew they were just following what’s trending. And I was sure most of them we insincere. I never felt more alone in my life than at that time. And when the trend died at school, I became that weirdo again. I was left alone, again. I never felt happier.

When I was in college, my parents still never talked directly to me about my allergy. They only talk about it behind my back, saying that it was all in my mind. I wanted to confront them and asked why they didn’t believe me. But I held back. I thought I could teach them a lesson. So during one of my semester breaks, I went out of the house and stood near my mother’s many plants and flowers, while they were busy gardening. I took a deep breath and suddenly my I felt my throat closing. I couldn’t breathe. My parents who at first thought I was just acting, came over to my side and jabbed me with an allergy injection to lower my allergic reaction and brought me to the nearby hospital.

Believe it or not, I smiled as they looked terrified. After everything calmed down, I asked them,“So you believe me now? Told ya I’m allergic to the sun…” Both my parents’ faces were still pale from the incident. Only silence ensued. I knew I won; I convinced them I was allergic to the sun! After that, my parents never bugged me about going out during the day when any outdoor activities were involved.

One day while I was home during my semester break, I saw an opened letter lying around in the living room. My parents were out meeting old university friends who came over to our country for a couple of weeks. It was a letter from the hospital where I got my blood transfusion. In it, it mentioned about how they were running low on blood and appealed for more donations.

Remembering how tough it was for me to get my blood type, I decided to go to the hospital at night before the donation drive closed. When I registered my name, the nurse asked me a couple of questions about my health. After I told her everything, she recognised me and blurted out, “Oh, you’re the one who got the billionaire’s donated blood, Mister Vlad!” After realising what she just said, she quickly asked me to sit and wait for my turn.

I thought about the name. He sounded familiar. Then it hit me. He sounded like the real-life Dracula we learned in history — Vlad the Impaler. When I got home and asked my parents about what the nurse said to me at the hospital. They looked at one another, and my father said, “We were desperate to get you the right type of blood son. And yours was rare. He was the only one who had it. It didn’t matter what his name was. As long as he was healthy. And yes, his name is Dan Vlad. So what?” I knew then, for sure why I was allergic to the sun.