A lot of money and manpower are being invested in medical research for the big mass murderers — heart, stroke, cancer, Alzheimer’s. Sooner of later one will get us, but if they don’t something else will.There’s no dodging our rendezvous with the reaper.
Maybe more money should go to the things that bedevil us for all our lives, not the ones that deliver the coup de grace. I have two medical problems that I’d be all in favor of subjecting to a full-scale assault —the two little A’s. They may be mundane, but cause a steady drip-drip-drip of daily angst to more people than malaria or other far worse blights. I’m talking about allergies and arthritis.
I know, what an anti-climax. And I too used to have no patience with oldsters and their joint pains or sensitive flowers with their red-eyed, runny nose, sneezing fits. But a funny thing happened on the way to the grave. I have joined the legion of sufferers for both. Guess what? They’re no laughing matter. They won’t kill you, but they sure can make you wish you were dead.
So far, I haven’t found anything resembling a cure for either. For the aches in every joint, ointments, heat, cold, less exercise, more exercise, painkillers, all do next to nothing to keep knees, neck, shoulder, thumb and any other moving part from hurting. I did recently get a shot when a shoulder joint got so bad I couldn’t raise my arm above my head.
That doesn’t sound like so big a deal, but you’d be surprised how often you need to raise your arm above your head when you can’t. It worked for a month or so. And I’m now scheduled to have my thumb injected. Am I now going to have to get a shot in a new joint every day until they work back around to the beginning and start all over? Probably. I get ‘roid rage just thinking about it.
I never had a allergy until I was in my forties, unless all those colds I kept getting weren’t colds. At first I got fall allergies, presumably related to the falling leaves and their mold. They were soon joined by spring allergies and little by little they seem to be conquering more and more of the calendar. Allergy season now begins in February and lasts until November, if I’m lucky.
Pills to keep these symptoms tamped down have little effect. Flonase is useful, but more palliative than cure, and when the major waves of allergens strike, it fails to keep up. Sufferers will try anything. Shooting saline up their noses, sticking their faces in steamers, cowering indoors, supposedly armored by anti-allergy bed covers, pillow cases, Xtreme air filters. All to little avail.
I recently learned I have lived, off and on, for almost thirty years, in the 9th worse city in America for allergies. Only eight others have climates and biomes that make their inhabitants more miserable. Apparently where I ought to have been all these years is Portland, Oregon, ranked best for allergies. Now they tell me.
I finally got fed up with what is widely believed to have been one of the longest, worst springs for sufferers on record. It has been so bad I’ve been able to get zero sympathy for my woes. People who never have allergies have been hacking, dripping, wheezing, and whining just like me. Whoever said misery loves company didn’t meet enough miserable people.
So I bit the bullet and toddled off to an allergist who tested me with scratches on torso and upper arms. He discovered a veritable smorgasbord of bad reactions to numerous grasses, trees, flowering plants, weeds, insects, cats, dogs, humans, hiphop music and possibly alien lifeforms. They only things I didn’t seem to be allergic to were rocks, ice, and reptiles, if you don’t count politicians.
He gave me a new, much more expensive nasal spray to replace the old one, and three new pills to replace a single previous one. You know you’re heading for the last round-up when the rows of pills take up so much space on the bedside table they crowd out the books.
I made the mistake of reading the fine print for one of the pill bottles. It listed the serious side I might experience, including “agitation, aggression, anxiety, trouble sleeping, abnormal dreams, sleep-walking, memory/attention problems, depression, hallucinations, suicidal thoughts, numbness/tingling/shooting pains in arms and legs, sinus pain, muscle weakness, and uncontrolled muscle movements.”
As soon as I read this I began to experience most of them without opening the bottle. Why can’t the side effects ever be something pleasant, like joy, peace, happiness, hope? I have not rushed to take this pill, in part because my arthritic thumbs make it impossible to open the vial it came in. But also because I am scared silly. All because I didn’t follow my wife’s advice, “Don’t read the fine print.”
The doctor told me if I’d like to try it, I could come in twice a week, then once a week, then once a month forever to get allergy shots. They might work, if my insurance will pay for them. Between the allergy shots and the arthritis shots, I could spend every day shuttling between doctors’ offices, and end up looking like a porcupine, or feeling like I got in a fight with one.
I’m pretty sure none of the treatments being offered is going to constitute more than a palliative, certainly not a cure. That’s why I want government and private enterprise to undertake an all-out war on arthritis and allergies, a moonshot, an American crusade using all the resources of genetic engineering, DNA meddling, biological warfare, the works.
It should also include fund-raising drives, lachrymose telethons, 5K runs, and airwaves crowded with tearjerking, public service ads showing lovable young people dripping snot into their oatmeal and endearing codgers at risk of starving to death because they can’t open a jar of pickles to save themselves. They are counting on us, people! USA! USA!