Sneezing Seasons

Gail M. Galvan


There's a war going on inside hypersensitive bodies between the antigens and us, the antibodies. Battlegrounds within bloodstreams, leaky fluids, cells, and body organs, a conglomeration of chemical reactions occur every minute. Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose, but my comrades and I always give it a good fight.

My name is Henry. I'm an antibody, a specialist in hypersensitivity. My enemies call me a scout, someone to be wary of and avoid at all costs. You can think of me as an agent, a good guy or a bad guy, because I can be both, as some of the following stories will attest to. Remember, I'm only one agent, and I can merely tell you about the lives of a few of my buddies, but there are armies of us out there. So don't think this is the whole story by any means.

Let's see, where should I begin, with the survivors or the casualties? This last case was the one that really turned my head around. I'll tell you about her. I've always been a sucker for high-spirited, cute 16 year old blondes. And this girl, Marin, had all it takes to make any creature's heart skip a beat. But Marin bit the dust, as the young kids say these days, a few weeks ago. What a heartbreaker. Her insatiable curiosity and zest for life was so impressive, her spirit so remarkable. She was special all right, and things will never be the same, not since Marin. Her death taught me every thing I ever feared about the consequences of over-reacting.

The day she died, a Saturday afternoon, lightning bolts kept flashing across the sky, but it wouldn't rain. Marin lived in a small Kansas town, known for its vicious tornadoes. She told her mother that she was headed for the bowling alley with a couple of her friends. Mrs. McDonald urged her to be careful because of the oncoming storm. Of course, Marin didn't like being treated like a little kid, so she wised off and gave her mom some static before she left.

"Mom, didn't I just have a birthday, you know, a year older, a year wiser? And haven't I always been real careful about any tornado warnings? When will you ever let me grow up? I love you Mom, but sometimes, you drive me nuts. You know J.J.'s has a shelter in case we need it, now I gotta go. Carrie's waiting for me."

"Okay, okay. Marin, go. I'll see you when you get home." By this time, Marin realized that she'd been a little too harsh on dear old Mom, so she tried to make up for it with a good-bye kiss.

"Bye Mom, I'll see you about five, okay?" She kissed her on the cheek and ran out the door.

Marin had been ill throughout her childhood and adolescence. She suffered from frequent episodes of hay fever, sinus problems, and stomach aches. With age, the predicament worsened. Minor headaches became major ones. Her mild gastrointestinal upsets grew more serious, and included bouts of acute abdominal pain.

A family physician, troubled by the increased severity decided it was time to consult a specialist. Marin was finally referred to an allergist. The appointment was only a few days away. Now if the hometown doctor had known about me, my enemies and my pals, that we were actually at the root of her problems, much of Marin's suffering could have been alleviated, and her life saved.

Our power, as antibodies, to either protect or destroy is frequently underestimated. Often, people tend to blame emotional problems. Like Marin, sometimes her mom and the doctor believed the complaints were a teenager's way of rebelling and gaining attention, or a method of playing hooky from school. Of course, the mind and body are both important to consider, but for people, even experts in the field of psychology, to deny my existence with so much obvious proof. Wise up. Especially these days, we're busier than ever fighting off environmental stressors that hypersensitive people can't seem to adapt to.

I understand what some psychologists believe. The mind can be so influential in causing or combating disease. But so often, it's the misunderstanding and lack of proper education and health care that causes an unnecessary death of an allergic or asthmatic victim. Just like Marin, all she needed was a lifesaver kit, one shot of epinephrine and she might have made it to the hospital. Now all we can do is hopefully learn from our mistakes.