Last night, I sat bolt upright in bed and sneezed so hard I chipped a tooth.
Yes, it is that time of year again. When male Ashe Juniper trees spread their powdery joy across the land and throw otherwise normal, rational human beings into fits of sneezing, coughing, and feverish hallucinations. Why is it the human body cannot understand that a simple plant powder is not trying to kill it? Instead, you end up (if you are like me) being caught by surprise with a "sore chest" or even a "stuffy head" one day and then about 12 hours later you are battling for your life in the grips of a 6-hour long fever, immobilized on the couch.
I moved to this town some 20 years ago, from a dry desert climate, and used to poke fun at some of the "weakies" that would whine about their allergies and show up to work with nose dribbling and eyes glassy and red around Christmas. In fact, I used to suspect that some coworkers and friends were just trying to cover for their rampant use of cocaine or some other illicit drug. I mean, who the hell has allergies?
Isn't that something women complain about?
As time wore on, I began picking up little clues here and there about my own susceptibility to these seasonal tormentors. I still remember driving to school one day in 1989 and noticing how red my eyes were in the rearview mirror and how especially sensitive they had become for no reason at all. It had rained the day previous, and this seemed to mark my first exposure to mold sensitivity. Unbeknownst to me, the fun was about to get kicked up several notches in the coming years... with Ashe Juniper (in the Winter), Live Oak pollen (in the Spring) and molds and ragweed (in the Summer).
Spring has definitely become the season to avoid. About the only time I spend outdoors during the months of March, April, and May is the time it takes for me to walk from my car in the parking lot to the building I work in. Thank God for homes with garages. For those laughing right now, I dare you to spend an Oak Pollen season with us and not have to vacuum the yellowy stuff out of your car like so much beach sand after a trip to the coast. Yes. It is that bad. And this year has seen very little rain, so the stuff will be everywhere come 2009. Images of yellowish-tinted cars in the parking lot come to mind. Brrrr... Something tells me M. Night Shyamalan did his research for The Happening in San Antonio.
I find it funny that for a time I considered the Summer to be an allergy-free season where I could be outdoors biking, running, swimming and not worry about any one particular plant singling me out for death. That is until one August, when I began noticing a burning in my chest after a moderate mountain biking session... Unlike a paperback book, there is no way to skip ahead and find out who the killer or antagonist is, so in real life I began putting clues together and finally determined that a slender, ropy and leafy weed growing in some of the creekbeds around that time was the culprit. And while I was dismayed to learn that my (almost) last open window of seasonal outdoor funnery had closed shut, I was still able to schedule around some of the worst periods of plant activity. Ragweed is a particularly nasty plant, and I did not like a single thing I read about it, including its apparently degradory effects on the human immune system. Ugh.
Through the years, it became apparent that the geographical area I now call home was conducive to all this pollination because it is situated perfectly between extremes when it comes to weather events. This is why locals tend to joke about the 4 seasons we experience here: Hot, Hot, Hot, and Warm (Winter). Just tracking frontal passage through the area for a year will show the casual observer that cold air does not stick around long, and consequently, nothing freezes. Including the plants. So without a killing cycle of frost, cold, and snow, the local flora happily pump out pollen at various times of the year, leaving residents to figure out how to live with it - if at all. I have to wonder, in light of recent economic tumult, how long before some of the newly-relocated San Antonians that fled the East- and West-Coast real estate debacles begin to feel the effects of some of the local spore-bearing plant life? Not too long, I suspect.
So as I compose this, I have been confined to the house for about 2 days, tired of lying down as my bones hurt from it and unable to venture outside for long without my skin feeling like it is irritated or on fire. My ears are ringing loudly from an apparent overdose of Acetaminophen and the effects of some horrific cough medicine I found in the back of the medicine cabinet are starting to subside (anyone ever see the South Park episode about Sexy Action School News and the Cough Syrup?) Nothing scares the wits out of me more than enduring a horrific fever, and I will do anything in my power to waylay it. So far, I think things might be looking up.
I was able to smell my cup of coffee this morning.
