I’ve struggled with allergies for as long as I can remember. In fact, one of my first memories is of being taken to see the doctor after being covered in hives from swimming at a local watering hole (or lake, you know…whatever). Seeing as my allergies have consisted of pretty much everything nature has to throw at me, and I really like being out in nature, I’ve just kinda rolled with it.
As I got older, my allergies got worse. Worse enough for me to finally decide to face one of my greatest fears (needles) on a twice a week basis for years in order to try to make things better.
And they are. As with my new eyes, I believe the decision to fix my allergies has prepared me for the coming apocalypse greatly.
But they’re still there.
Sure, over the years I’ve learned quite a few tricks for managing the symptoms. If petting animals, make sure to wash hands as quickly as possible afterward to ensure that I don’t rub my face and cause complete red-face dripping nose swollen eye breakdown. If I’m going places where I know there are a lot of dogs regularly inside, I make sure to take some sort of antihistamine (although they make me super sleepy) to try to keep from exploding in a ball of super-snot. I hold my breath while cutting grass, vacuuming my house (which has a dog), and during the entire month of August.
But from time to time, all of a sudden, my body gets attacked, seemingly out of nowhere, by an intense bout of allergens-related sneezing, snotting, and itching.
This morning was such a time.
Considering how well I’ve gotten at managing my issues, as well as the lessening effects of allergies brought on by years of biweekly (which mirriam-webster assures me means both twice a week and every two weeks at the same time (take that people who think American English is confusing!) torture called immunotherapy, I find myself rather surprised when a big attack hits. If it weren’t for the fact that I were well accustomed to the feeling of my body attacking itself due to a stray grain of pollen rubbing against my cheek, I’m quite certain I would wake up thinking my body has just decided to throw some sort of snot-based fourth of July fireworks show in celebration of snot.
Funny thing is…this attack doesn’t generally last all that long. It’s not usually a situation where the hay fever kicks in and I’m out for a week or however long normal people hayfever lasts. No, these random attacks generally last an hour tops, and then my body goes back to acting as if nothing happened. It’s like the end of a 21st birthday…you know, the moment where the debutante expels everything that she’s imbibed over the course of the night and you finally realize it’s time to put her in the taxi and send her home. That’s what happens to my allergic reaction. It just pukes up snot and heads home.
Allergies are stupid, much like the confusing nature of the meaning of biweekly. For some reason the human body decides that a completely normal part of everyday life is a terrorist cell attempting to undermine the integrity of the whole system, and its form of water boarding is red eyes and clogged up noses. And like a poison, the only way we currently have today to get over the issue (outside of some of those hippie folks saying raw milk can possible help (note to self, get raw milk)) is to slowly increase our ability to handle the things that make us react. Every time I got one of those shots, I got put into a room for the following half hour so they could watch me and make sure I didn’t die.
And, let me tell you, the moment you start taking a bad turn from the shots, things move fast, and scary, and fast. My heartbeat, over the course of 2 minutes, went from something like 200 bpm to 30 bpm to 100…those numbers are made up…I’m not a medical professional…All I know is it went from scary high to scary low to pretty normal…as they injected me with drugs to help my body continue to fight things as mundane as horse spit.
I hate allergies. But I’m happy to say that I’ve mostly defeated them, outside of the random day here and there. If you don’t believe me, find the Adam of before the shots, you know, like seven years ago, and see how he’s breathing right now at the end of August. I’ll give you a hint…not well. One nostril at best, but more than likely through the mouth.
This guy, the one barely using his two thumbs to type, is using both nostrils. Yeah…oxygen rules.
Alright…got a ton of editing, cleaning, and you know, real work, to do today, so I’m out.
Have fun out there!