The Moonlit Path

The stark brightness of today is very different from the faint golden hue of a clear winter's sun. Even the subtle rise in temperature is enough to cover the skin in a thin blanket of warmth just under the gleaming light. This changing of seasons is quite apparent now even though spring does not "officially" start until the 20th of March, roughly six weeks from today. I may not miss the bitterness of the freezing cold, but I will miss the rain and furthermore, I am not so sure that I am ready for clear blue skies, blazing California sunshine and the pollen-filled air that comes with the blooming of all those brilliantly pastel-colored flowers that seem to cover the gardens of various homes down my street. But it's here. It's definitely here. I can hear the bickering of playful children just outside my window, the grinding of skateboards zipping down the unevenness of sidewalks and all the birds perched upon tree tops seem to have something to sing about. Even Suki and Atrus are estatic; rolling around on their backs like a pair of pups, soaking up the sun.

There is a tingle in my nose and a slight stinging in my eyes that is telling me, this year I need to go to my doctor for allergy medication that actually works. I have tried many medications, from over-the-counter drugs to high-end perscriptions, and it seems after several doses, my body begins to create an immunity. I have gone the last year without having a real need to go to the doctor, even though there had been a few days scattered throughout the seasons that were memorably intolerable. But since the beginning of this year, I have already had more than a handful of unbearable allergic reactions, which seems to me the very glimpse of the long road to come.

I go through each year telling myself that people who do not have allergies could not even begin to understand how easy they have it, and I hate them for it. Ok, the word "hate" may be a tad bit strong, but it's true. I "hate" them! Having severe allergies, those without them will never understand the pure torture that one goes through, and how easily irritated one could get when one is having an attack. Seriously, the extent of my suffering gets so bad that it feels as if my eyes were bleeding and that relief would only be justified if I could rip off my nose. Alright, I probably would not want to really rip off my nose, but that is the only way I could possibly describe it. It gets to a point that it almost feels as if I have a very severe case of the "Cold." It is often accompanied with a slight fever and throbbing sinus headaches, depending on the degree of it's severity. Sometimes it hinders my ability to function and all I can really do is bury my face inside my pillow and hope to fall asleep until the irritation subsides. Unlike those who simply can divert themselves from coming into direct contact with specific allergens, it is virtually impossible for me to avoid pollens, environmental triggers and air-bourne particles. Until a cure is developed, all I can do is either get temporary alleviation by the use of grade-A pharmaceutical drugs or I can sit here, take it and bitch. There is also possibly one other form of treatment that I could possibly look into called Immunotherapy in which a patient is "gradually vaccinated with progressively larger doses of the allergen in question [until it reduces] the severity or eliminate hypersensitivity altogether" (Ross RN, Nelson HS, and Finegold I, 2000). Seems like the perfect solution, but according to medscape.com, the treatment can have an estimated cost of $1200/year. Considering the price, I'll stick with my measly $10 co-pay.


Vivien and I took a short walk around Central Park today, or what most people refer to as Lake Elizabeth. It was a nice day out for a walk I suppose. I invited her to go perhaps to help in motivating her to complete her daily work out, and perhaps it was also a way to deviate myself from the normal routine of heavy lifting that I do on Mondays. I normally enjoy my routine workouts, but there have been days when the mere idea of it would be the very last thing that I would want to do. One of those days was today. I convinced myself that since I worked out the whole time during my "vacation" last week, that I would take it easy today and continue with my intense exercise sessions starting early tomorrow morning. I kept thinking to myself over and over if this was okay? I have been somewhat obsessed with exercise and nutrition for over a year now that throwing myself off track just a little felt so strange and out of the ordinary. I suppose looking back in hindsight, it really was just a poor excuse not to follow my usual régime and justify the simple fact that I was being lazy. I feel almost inclined to complete a few sets of push-ups and maybe a few crunches now just to counterbalance this inconsistency. I can't help but feel a little guilty. Some might say that I am being too hard on myself or that this way of thinking may be unhealthy. But it can't be too unhealthy to want to be healthy, can it?