Dust Allergy

I have an allergy I’m pretty sure is due to dust. If I plunk down in a chair where the upholstery hasn’t been dusted, I’ll go off in paroxysms of coughing and sneezing and of semi-violent blowings of my nose. When the air circulates through the vents in the car, I experience the same thing. I keep boxes and packets of tissues handy—because sooner or later, probably sooner, I will need them.

This allergy comes and goes; usually I suffer for about three weeks to a month, then it calms itself down and I’m back to normal—such a relief, because the allergy is always accompanied by an annoying cough—hack-hack-hack—that feels unrelenting. My adult children monitor my disability—“Mom, when are you going to have that checked out?” Since I self-cure and can go for a month or so between episodes, and since a doctor who examined me when I walked into a critical-care center without an appointment proclaimed it an allergy, I don’t think much about it. If I go to bed for most of a day, do deep-breathing exercises for that bed day, pray for my body with calming prayers, I can shake the allergy, but most of the time, I don’t have a day to make myself allergy-clear.

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