¶ On Allergies

Am I allergic to June? I think I might be. A couple of years ago in June I submitted the final draft of my thesis to my committee and then later that evening entered the hospital for a multi-day stay for pneumonia. In June. June!

This year, I’ve got something wacky going: at about 4pm my allergies kick in something fierce. Not just your everyday runny-nose-and-puffy-eyes, but the whole hog: asthmatic wheezing (to the extent that I am forced to use my inhaler — which I hate), gigantic snot production1, sneezing to the point that I shouldn’t be driving. Exhaustion. And I can get nothing done. My work stalls and dies and the day withers as I wander around in a haze of watery eyes and benedryl.

Tomorrow, I’ll be at about 60% of my top form (which itself isn’t 100%) and only the day after tomorrow will I be back up to my pre-June self. Which will last until the afternoon, when I’ll probably be sneezing and snotting at every turn. Yes, this is gross.

This annoys me because I have work to do and because, if I’m not working, I’d like to be out riding my bike. Instead, I’m sitting here barely able to hammer out a sentence of either this post — which requires precious little concentration, as I’m sure you’ve noticed — or of the paper I’m trying to finish2. And then there’s the grading (shudder), which is, happily, limited to a few remaining papers and a pile of final exams. Anyone who complains about grading exams has never had to grade papers before. Still, it’s work that requires some concentration, and that’s tough when I have only one hand to work with (the other is holding something to my faucet-nose).

I’ve got a doctor’s appointment with my allergist… in July. What good will that do me? I should have thought to make the appointment six weeks ago in April, but who would have thought that far in advance? By July I’ll feel great and the doctor will smile and tell me that my regimen is working. “But I was miserable all June!” I’ll complain. “Are you still miserable now?” he’ll ask and I’ll stare and the floor and shake my head.

This wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t already spending mucho dinero3 on medication already, medication that seems to work fine for 11 months of the year. Somehow in June I need to supplement my already absurd pharmaceutical regimen with every conceivable over-the-counter supplement I can find, just to try to keep my sinuses from swelling shut and creating so much pressure that my head explodes. Literally.

C’mon July.

——

1 You think I exaggerate? When I say gigantic, I mean copiously, massively, enormously huge production. If I wasn’t sensitive to the delicate composition of some of my readers, I’d mention buckets.

2 I’m actually pretty excited about this paper (no, excited isn’t the right word. Entertained? No, not that either. Not bored? Closer.): I’m looking at the idea of exile in a couple of plays by the English Jesuit Joseph Simons. Nobody writes about Simons — heck, nobody except Alison Shell even writes about Jesuit drama — and so I’ve kinda got the place to myself. I’ll have to file it away until after the dissertation, though. So all you scholars of early modern English drama: hands off ideas of exile in Mercia and Leo the Arminian, OK?

3 I’m about about $400/month out-of-pocket in prescription costs. Is this what it feels like to be an Old Person? How does John McCain — himself a Certified Old Person — look other Old People in the eye?

4 June 2008

Comment

  1. # Comment by jw on Jun 6, 07:33 PM:

    $400 a month and you still feel awful? Poor you. Have you considered drilling a hole in your sinuses by yourself? C’mon, I know you’ve thought about it!

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