Eternal Naivety

Well, spring is here. It is rainy, and the dry days are becoming simply stunning. Green runs amuck, and several people have told me this is the most beautiful time of year. Banja Luka itself is fortunate enough to still be fraught with trees. I can twist in my chair, and look out the window behind me to a “Simpson’s sky”, and a cheerful array of growing things beyond our building and the truck yard next door. Turning my head less, the new, clean windows show me buildings all about a hilltop, conjuring opening movie scenes in my head.

I smile at this. The sun feels good when I am out; not too warm, but warm enough for no jacket. Then the soft palette of my mouth starts to itch. Thirty seconds later, I am sneezing in rapid fire and wondering if I really did take my allergy medicine only 2 hours ago. My eyes water, and I sniff a bit, and let the oxygen pour back into my bloodstream. Sometimes, a good bout of sneezing can give me spots and light headedness.

This is my annual dilemma, and the source of my eternal naivety. I have had wicked allergies through my life, though after 13 years of medications and shots, they did seem to toddle off for 4 or 5 years. I know what green does to me. I speak about it. I have long had a general, knowing aversion to the outdoors. Everyone who knows me knows about it. I can offer informed critiques of most ever allergy medication available.

Why, oh why then does it only take one winter to convince me that I am probably cured of them? Oh, sure. I know I am allergic. But, how can the severity fade from my dread and misery to an academic subject that I don’t wholly believe. How is it,most every spring I am stunned at how worn out they make me feel?

Thankfully, I still make sure I have meds available. I have enough here to get me to the States again. I even thought about rationing during the first part of my visit, in preparation of spring! And now, with my head clogged, my body feeling a bit tired, and my palette itching faintly, I wonder how I didn’t anticipate this. It’s the worst kind of mental bureaucracy. I have a tidy little report on the severity of my allergies, and when they will hit. I have an office set up to ensure the proper medications are on hand. The trouble is, the clerk in charge rarely gets out of the office, and is shocked each year by the human element of my situation.

Posted by Andrew     

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