Lord, deliver me from allergies
They say there are two kinds of people who live in San Antonio: those who have allergies and those who are going to get them. Believe me, I’ve got ’em, or rather, they’ve got me. Specifically, I am reeling and sneezing and blowing as a result of cedar pollen, the invisible, insidious matter that ruptures from the pods of junipers and blows like hell when the wind is from the north, and goes right into my nostrils. If I hadn’t had so much therapy, I might think it was personal. The other disturbing thought is that it’s possible that the pollen that’s blowing about may actually spawn more cedar trees. That is terrible.
We all know that Linus drags around with him a security blanket; this time of year, mine is a bandana, in the old days known as a handkerchief. When you see that red thing hanging out of my purse, you know it’s bad. It is. My eyes are glowing; my nose is blowing, and the snot is flowing. This almost makes the colonoscopy a good memory…almost.
Allergies aren’t a new thing to me…I’ve had them for a long time or at least I’ve had them since moving to San Antonio. In the beginning, I saw Dr. Dale Wood. I recall that first visit, having to lay on my tummy and have my back pricked with needles containing every allergen known to man so they could figure out what was causing my itching. They did, and pretty soon they came up with a concoction of potions just for me and my allergies, and I got on self-administered allergy shots. This was back in the 1980s when people weren’t as lawsuit-happy as they are now, and I could go to the doctor’s office and pick up my kit and some syringes, and give myself my shots. And my resistance to allergies grew to the point where I could enjoy living in San Antonio in January.
I have thought about getting back into the allergy shot routine; however, now you have to go to the doctor’s office for every shot (there are a lot of shots) and pay a co-pay every time, and it’s a big production. No doubt someone sued some allergy doctor for something and now, you can’t give yourself your own shots. That is pitiful, but it is the way it is.
I know from first-hand experience that this isn’t the worst thing that will happen to me. But at the moment, it’s like having a two-year-old or a labrador puppy…it demands immediate attention and won’t rest – ever. And neither will I, at least not in January.
Cissy's Thoughts Along the Way 