Random Thoughts: Allergies

I've had allergies all my life. Throughout my childhood the insides of my elbows were so covered with eczema I didn't know what real skin looked like. As I grew older, the skin allergy transformed into hay fever and my friends learned not to bother saying, "Bless you," after each sneeze, because so many would come in a row.

Cat-lovers have never loved me, because I have to ask them to put their little darlings away when I come over. Even so, after a few hours in a feline's family's home, I'm ready to scratch my own eyes out they itch so badly.

Now, I've added a little asthma to the mix and need to use an inhaler when I work out too hard, or when I laugh too much.

I've had several series of allergy shots, taken every imaginable allergy pill, and even tried a few homeopathic remedies. There has been no magic bullet, just periods of relative calm in my sneezing, dripping, wheezing life.

I've learned to live with my allergies. In fact, I use them to explain every ailment that can possibly be related. Sore throat? Allergies. Burning eyes? Allergies. Tired? Allergies. Headache? Allergies. When I catch a cold it takes me a few days to realize that it's a virus, not my allergies.

Allergies are a part of who I am. The person you can count on to have a tissue; the one who you can tell is approaching by the constant throat clearing; the one who will wake you from the deepest sleep by the explosion of her sneezes.

I won't say I've grown fond of my allergies, but they are mine. They used to have a positive side because they made me stand out from the crowd. People regarded me with interest after a series of sneezes, or an attack of hives, when they understood that for me, because of my allergies, such symptoms are a common occurrence.

My condition was once an oddity -- something that set me apart from normal people who could go near cats and pick ragweed. Now, however, when I answer "my allergies" to a quizzical look from someone who has witnessed a bout of histamine reaction, instead of needing to explain I need to compete.

I no longer face questions or blank stares when I mention my allergies. Now, I face dueling symptoms. If I explain that I am blowing my nose because of allergies, increasingly, my companion will often answer, "I know, my allergies have been terrible, too." Or, even worse, "You think that's bad, I just sneezed 17 times in a row." These days everyone has allergies.

You have to wonder why so many of us are reacting to our environment. I might think it was simply age, but I don't remember people in my parents' generation wheezing, sneezing, and wiping their eyes the way many of us do. The fact that there is something in our air, our water, our vegetation, that is making so many of us miserable is certainly of real concern to me. What really gets to me, though, is that suddenly so many people have the allergies I always thought of as mine.

During the summer, when one of my friends didn't show up for rowing practice, someone mentioned that it was her allergies. Several others agreed that she was having a terrible time with hay fever. "Hey," I thought, "I'm the one with allergies. They wouldn't even believe the state of my sinuses right now." But of course I couldn't say anything -- she had claimed the allergy gold medal.

You would think I would commiserate with my fellow sufferers. Misery loving company and all that. I do empathize, knowing how unhappy such afflictions can make a person, but I'm also somewhat resentful.

I thought that one benefit about all this sharing of my allergic ailments would be that with all this public awareness of the condition, I could get at least get a little sympathy for my woes. But no one has sympathy -- they're too busy suffering themselves.

Like my colleague in the hall who inquired about my streaming state. When I told her my problem was my allergies, did she say, "Poor you."? Of course not. She said, "Oh, I know, my allergies have been awful lately." She then proceeded to describe each symptom she had experienced since she had awakened that morning. She was so busy talking about her allergies, she didn't ask one question about mine.