Thursday, June 30, 2016

Sorry, I'm Allergic, by Phillip Hoyle


I’m allergic to several fine particles such as house dust, essential oils, and some burning incense. They sometimes provoke histamine reactions such as itchy eyes, tears, sneezes, or a runny nose.

In my late 30’s I became allergic to MSG when it is used in high proportions in the food it seeks to enhance. I started getting hives when ingesting this food additive. Originally the itchy red spots showed up just in the hair on my head, then later in my ears, then on my cheeks, eventually on my neck, and finally on my shoulders as well as all the other places. The hives tend to itch for about 20 minutes and then subside. A doctor friend gave me Benadryl when I got hives at a meal. When the medicine went to work some twenty minutes later, I wasn’t itching but was so sleepy I yawned until our friend left. I decided the treatment wasn’t really effective for me. I gave up eating anything marked MSG.

In spring and fall I tend to have congestion in my sinuses. I usually blame pollens or other things in the air. I abide them and their attending discomforts, usually without treatment. My relationship with allergies seems pretty mild and way too lame to provide fodder for stories, a fact I’m actually happy to report.

But who wants to hear such good news except the person receiving it or their partner who may have to suffer with them sneezing, wheezing, blowing, and complaining? Oh I do snore and wonder if my partner will develop an allergic reaction to this condition. He rarely complains, and for some reason I almost never am aware of my snoring.

My sister Holly was allergic to Tommy Shane, the boy next door. She’d get congested and develop hives anytime he came around much the same as she would get when eating fresh strawberries. Fortunately she eventually found a guy she was not allergic to and they have been married for decades.

No one in our family was allergic to work.

Sometimes when fresh cut flowers are on display in the living room I find I have to move to another room. I blame it on the strong aromas of some of them but suppose more realistically my reaction is to the pollen they bring into the house, but to say so seems as lame as telling my history professor my paper was late because one of the children was ill. Oh well. I just don’t talk much about my tiny allergies that seem like almost nothing compared with the skin allergies my mother and my next younger sister endured. They seemed especially reactive to springtime elm pollen. Mom also was allergic to some household cleaners. She wore gloves and smeared lots of petroleum jelly on her hands at certain times of the year.

I feel fortunate that I am not allergic to any of the art materials I choose to work with.

 That’s about it. Really boring…

I can’t even think of a personal story to treat allergies as a metaphor so broad is my acceptance of people. So you can probably conclude that if I were to make the excuse, “Sorry, I’m allergic,” I’d probably be lying or at least exaggerating a non-condition in order to get out of some situation I didn’t want to cope with or some activity I just cannot abide.

© 15 Sep 2013

About the Autho


Phillip Hoyle lives in Denver and spends his time writing, painting, and socializing. In general he keeps busy with groups of writers and artists. Following thirty-two years in church work and fifteen in a therapeutic massage practice, he now focuses on creating beauty. He volunteers at The Center leading the SAGE program “Telling Your Story.”

He also blogs at artandmorebyphilhoyle.blogspot.com

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