October 1, 2007
I’m having a dream. It’s a nightmare, really. A horrible, horrifying nightmare.
I’m trapped, surrounded by thousands of creepy things I cannot see. These tall, prickly things wrap themselves tightly around me. They weave themselves through my fingers, get tangled in my hair, poke me in the eyes, ears and nose, encircle my body like thousands of slender, spindly boa constrictors. They squeeze mercilessly, and I want to scream.
But all I can do is sneeze.
My eyes start burning and tearing. My skin begins to itch violently all over, but I can’t scratch. My hands are tied to my sides.
I’m doomed!
I have to wake myself up. This nightmare is getting out of control. The itching! The sneezing! I’m about to lose my mind! I force my eyes open and sit up in bed, willing myself into consciousness.
Then it hits me. I was dreaming about RAGWEED!
I’m not a bit surprised. Since late August, I’ve been obsessed with ragweed pollen. How do avoid it. How to fight it. How to eradicate it from the planet (a highly unlikely possibility, thanks to global warming).
Did you know that a single ragweed plant produces up to one billion pollen grains that can travel for miles, staying airborne for days? Did you know that ragweed’s genus name is Ambrosia, from the Greek word for “food of the gods”? Did you know I know entirely TOO MUCH about ragweed!?
I fixate over daily pollen counts and curse ragweed’s name to the heavens on a daily basis. I lock myself in my air-conditioned house on weekends, foregoing simple pleasures like gardening and picnics. I watch my neighbors through the window and feel sorry for myself and my immune system.
Then I get angry and defiant. I cry out, “No genus of flowering plants from the sunflower family is going to keep THIS woman down!” So I load up on antihistamines and nose spray, throw caution to the wind, and spend five hours in a field at a tailgate party.
The next morning, I wake up looking like Quasimodo.
With swollen sinuses, I dragged myself to the pharmacy one evening last week to get a refill on my Allegra prescription. The drive-through lane held so many cars, it looked like McDonald’s after the bars close on Friday night.
Finally, it was my turn at the window. The haggard pharmacist took my name and fetched my white paper bag.
“Rough night?” I inquired. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“Ragweed?” I asked.
“It’s unbelievable,” she replied, looking genuinely frightened.
I know I’m not alone. The chorus of sneezes echoing through my office proves that. But my misery doesn’t want company. My misery wants relief.
I want to enjoy life during what used to be my favorite season of the year. Heck, I got married on a warm October day in 1979. I didn’t sneeze once! It wasn’t until I moved to Lawrence seven years later that I experienced my first hay fever symptom. What’s up with that? We moved only 35 miles west!
These days, I spend my Octobers glued to the Weather Channel in hopes of hearing those magic words: hard frost warning.
This week, our city was named one of the top 10 places in America to retire by U.S. News and World Report. I wasn’t shocked by the designation. Lawrence is a picturesque college town, full of vibrant, creative people and stimulating cultural activities such as concerts and theater. It meets many of the criteria for a happy settling spot. The only downside, according to the article, is our weather. “The winters can be kind of rough,” it said.
Are they kidding me? Our winters are nothing! A couple of snowfalls, a few bone-chilling days, maybe an ice storm here and there. Who cares?!
But when a simple monoecious plant — thriving in grassy plains, river banks, roadsides, vacant lots and disturbed soils — can force otherwise healthy people to hunker down in their homes for two and a half months out of the year, now THAT’S a downside.
So, listen up, all you nomadic retirees! Come to Lawrence at your own risk! And bring plenty of antihistamines, or you might live out your days locked in the drive-through lane at Walgreens, and your nights dreaming about man-eating plants.
Comments
rockandrollgrandma (rockandrollgrandma) says...
I know what you mean. I don't suffer from allergies, but my husband has had some of the most intense sneezing fits in his life for the last 2 weeks. It's been years since it's affected him this way. And my granddaughter actually broke out in hives for several days from skin allergies. It has been a rough autumn, but the cold weather will be fast upon us. Hang in there...
October 3, 2007 at 4:33 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
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