Rooting through my handbag you'd quickly conclude I was either a drug addict, or pioneering to open my own pharmacy. In fact, the truth is that I have an unfavorable response to pollen, like the many others suffering from hay fever. I have scoured endless sites with promises of hay fever tips and cures, from thrice-daily showers to wrap-around sunglasses. However, the thought of an angry landlord waving the water bill around or me resembling an alien from a Doctor Who episode with my pollen-blocking visor, I think I'd rather the trauma of red, raw eyes, an abrasive cough, and a mini-replica of Niagara Falls streaming from my nose. The laughable matter of this being that this is how I met my boyfriend-to-be, many years ago.
To all those lucky non-sufferers, let me paint a picture for you. An early start to the day, thanks to a blocked nose and a need for yet more tissues, sporadic attacks of sneezing and a concoction of hay fever tablets which won't even touch the surface of the symptoms you have the following 24 hours to face, ranging from itchy ears to a hollow cough that would make anyone assume you were a well-dressed tramp. I like to think of myself as a fashionable gal, yet I leave the house unintentionally presenting myself to the world as a pepper-sprayed clown.
I have tried everything, resulting in me to have become so knowledgeable of the individual ingredients within anti-histamines that I feel I could pass a module in a bio-science degree. There was even a point (before screaming at my doctor to 'give me something stronger!') where I tried to create my own anti-histamine with the powers of all the current over-the-counter ones. With a boyfriend who studied pharmaceuticals at university, science for me has been taken to a new level, and it seems almost like a candy store.
The doctor was just plain patronizing, speaking to me like I'd never experienced hay fever in my life, and suggested these 'new, super anti-histamines' (emphasis on the 'super'). Through a nose I can barely breath through I ask her what exactly the main ingredient is, and am surprisingly happy when it's a name I've not heard before. After paying a scandalous amount for a box of pills and one inhaler for the occasional delight of hay fever-related asthma, I leave feeling positive that my aversion to summer is soon to end. It is a known fact that Antonio Vivaldi suffered from hay fever too, hence his summer concerto from The Four Seasons depicting an unbearable heat, complete with wasps and sticky hay fever. Sad to say, the 'new super-duper anti-histamines' don't work, and a Boots' own pack of chlorphenamine maleate (found in Piriton) seems to be having more of an effect. But still nothing close to building a dam to stop the waterfall of mucus.
A colleague from work was put on steroids for a week to combat her hay fever, and despite bloating, lethargy and being unable to drink a glass of water in one go or eat any meat, it certainly relinquished all signs of hay fever temporarily. Although I may become paranoid of waking up with the body of the Incredible Hulk after taking them, it is something I am considering as a final straw - I'm sick of opening another pack of anti-histamines which don't work. I am currently on Avamys, a nose spray which is half steroid, but I despise nose sprays at the best of times. Regardless of the fact that alcohol fights against the work of anti-histamines, perhaps a jug of fruit-laiden extra-strong Pimm's with ice would ease my misery if not my symptoms and contribute to a laid-back summer, topped off with a slice of lemon, half a strawberry and a bout of itchy eyes. As a last ditch attempt to assuage my eyeballs, I lick the alcohol off the cucumber and place slices over my eyelids.
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