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A head full of thoughts about allergies
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___ For starters, let me just list my impeccable credentials to speak on the subject of allergies. I’m not an allergist, and I don’t even play one on TV. But I’ve been seeing allergists since I was a mere infant.
___I’ve taken--and still take--the weekly injections. I’ve tried every form of antihistamine and decongestant known
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MARK WINGFIELD
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to modern medicine. I can spot a sinus infection at 50 paces. I’ve lived with post-nasal drip longer than I’ve lived with my wife (who’s not a drip).
___ The not-so-scientific conclusion I’ve come to after all these years is that allergies are a pain in the nose--and the head and eyes and ears and throat and chest. If there were any justice in the world, I already would have those elusive abs of steel from contracting my stomach muscles so much in coughing fits.
___ The second curious thing I’ve learned about allergies is this: Every place we’ve ever lived is a bad place for allergies. No joke. We’ll arrive in town, and one of the first people I meet will inevitably announce, "You know, (fill in the blank city) is one of the worst places in North America for allergies." How can so many places be so bad?
___ In Atlanta, it was the pollen--pollen so thick in the spring you could wash your car in the morning and find it covered in yellow dust from bumper to bumper by afternoon. In Louisville, it was the mold and various other mystery ingredients that spring from the Ohio River but are kept in a holding pattern over the Ohio River Valley by the forces of nature. In Dallas, it’s Bermuda grass, ragweed and other stuff I haven’t even figured out yet.
___ It’s becoming apparent to me that to be a city on the go in America today, you’ve got to have some allergy claim to fame. You’re nowhere on the map unless you’ve got at least one major allergen to brag about. And if you can round up two or three, it won’t be long until your citizens will be bragging to newcomers about their fair city being one of the worst places for allergies to be found.
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__When you’re allergic to ragweed, it doesn’t matter where you live. It will find you. Unfortunately, it found me way too quickly here in Dallas.
___ I didn’t need to see the nightly pollen count to tell when ragweed started shooting through the roof. My nose told me. I think I broke my own record with 15 sneezes in a row.
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ALISON WINGFIELD
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___ My biggest difficulty in dealing with seasonal allergies is what to take for them. I’ve found even the non-drowsy antihistamines do strange things to me. They either hype me up and make me nervous or drop me in my tracks so I fall asleep or am so loopy I can’t function.
___ But I can’t complain, because at least my allergies are seasonal. Mark is a year-round walking medicine chest (no pun intended) thanks to his various allergies.
___ When his allergies are really bad, I do my best to fall asleep before he does, for several reasons. First, I don’t have to hear the coughing spree that begins when his head first hits the pillow. And second, if I’m real lucky, his snoring won’t wake me up. Allergies or no allergies, I am not the sympathetic type when it comes to my sleep. He gets a good shove when the sawing starts.
___ I try to be sympathetic at other times. And my own occasional bouts increase my respect for what he goes through day in and day out. The hardest part for me to deal with is no pets.
___ I’ve known for a long time that we couldn’t have a cat. That would be my first pet of choice, but so far I’ve chosen Mark over having a cat.
___ Dogs were a good second choice. Or so I thought. But then he had his tests done for Dallas, and guess what showed up for the first time? You got it. Dogs. Any dogs. I’m still pouting over that one.
___ When the marriage vows said in sickness and in health, I sure don’t remember anything about allergies and no pets. I guess this is just an example of what it means to "bear one another’s burdens."
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He Said/She Said is a new regular feature of the Baptist Standard's on-line edition. Mark Wingfield is managing editor of the Standard. Alison Wingfield is a freelance writer. The Wingfields moved to Texas in January from Louisville, Ky., where Mark had been editor of the Western Recorder, in which this column appeared weekly. |
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