Allergies: The Battle At Nostril Peak
As I sit at my computer desk, the seemingly endless box of ultra soft & strong tissues glares at me in disgust. Down to its final sliver of tissue, the box prepares for the cardboard recycle bin, where it’ll be reunited with two other vacant tissue boxes that met their demise just a few days earlier. I’m hesitant, at first, to reach for the last slice of nasal relief, asking myself if this time it’s absolutely worth it. With an aggressive sniff, the mental argument is laid to rest, as I’m sure this time is worth it; it’s time for this box of ultra soft & strong tissues to be put out of its misery.
I have allergies, and contrary to popular belief, they’re not fun. Usually, I only have to put up with these pesky problems during the spring, when the outside world is blooming, and pollen is on the hunt for my nasal passages. But these annual annoyances have become somewhat of an everyday occurrence for the past five months, causing me to become a terribly unhappy camper. A new neighbor moved in a few months ago--standing about six inches high, fur from face to tail, with an incredibly adorable “meow.” Back then I didn’t know it, but this bundle of pet dander would soon prove to be the bane of my existence.
The first few weeks after the arrival of my new neighbor had convinced me that I was in the clear. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. I decided to spend the night, and the morning after, I awoke to a baseball sized left eye and an incredible urge to rub profusely. This was the beginning of the end, the moment of truth, the turning point in the war against allergies. Unfortunately, the pet dander was able to infiltrate my allergenic defenses and conquer the interior territory of my sinuses. It's a defeat I am still suffering from today.
Each morning is like waking up in a bottomless pit of pollen. Opening my eyes feels like a piece of sand paper was sliding back and forth overtop of them continuously through the night. The chance of oxygen entering my nasal passages or carbon dioxide exiting through them is slim to none. It’s a feeling of suffocation almost, like you’re descending further and further into a pit of quicksand. These reactions lend no helping hand in my motivation to get out of bed every morning; they’re more like that degenerate friend who tries to convince you to skip class.
Even with my battalions of tissues, over-the-counter pills, and expensive filtering fans, the allergy regime has continued to come away victorious. More and more empty boxes will continue to be laid to rest in the graveyard formerly known as the cardboard recycle bin, I’m sure. But with each day that passes, my sinuses increase in strength and immunity. Maybe one day they’ll be able to stand up to the tyrant of dander and put and end to my habitual sneezing, coarse eyelids, and blockaded nasal passages so that peace can reign over my body once again.