Monday, May 04, 2009


For the past 5 years, Boy1 and I have been following an allergy desensitization protocol. We're both allergic to the same pollens - the ones that are out from mid-April to mid June, give or a take a few weeks depending on the weather.

I wasn't really very hopeful, at least for myself. These types of treatments seem to be more successful on children than adults, but the past couple of years have been better so I kept it up, trying to believe that my body could learn to assess those pollens as what they really are - just a part of nature - and not what it thinks they are - my lifelong enemies intent only upon my misery and eventual destruction.

I had to go to the allergy doctor's office last week to pick up some insurance papers. We chatted while she filled them out. I asked about the current pollen levels in this region, I hadn't even bothered looking them up, because I haven't been bothered - I just assumed they were really low.

Apparently not. Weird weather - hot/cold/hot/cold/rainy/not - has been just what my least favorite pollens needed to flourish. Mostly they're weeds and grasses so that's really no surprise. Why can't I be allergic to some really rare thing that only grows in extreme weather conditions on odd years during a Republican president's 1st and only term?

Anyway, I woke up with a start this morning. Actually a gasp and a start. A good gasp. Because I realized that some part of me - the smarter, wiser Nicole - had signed me up for a lot more desensitization protocols than I had ever suspected. And the accelerated kind. These past three months have left me with a lot fewer internal enemies than I could've thought possible, and all without me being aware enough to hinder the process. Because you know I would've.

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