Anti-Antihistamines

Some people love antihistamines – what’s not to love about a miniscule pill that stops your eyes running like taps, your face exploding in clouds of gloopy nose-gunk and your throat itching with an infernal irritation no one can scratch - I don’t seem to have ever got on with them though, sadly. It may all be in my head, of course, there’s a very real possibility of that – there are all sorts of weird, irrational things up there after all that there’s really no accounting for – but that doesn’t stop my experience of intense lethargy whenever I take them, even the, so called, non-drowsy ones.

There’s non-drowsy and there’s non-drowsy of course and my drowsiness may very well be despite the miniscule pills and not because of them, but there’s a direct correlation that’s formed in my poor little brain between swallowing the little blighters and an intolerable afternoon’s transformation into a sloth-like creature that can barely muster up the energy to breathe in and out let alone carpe the diem out of life… and I do want to be able to carpe the diem out of life. (And, yes, I know that’s mercilessly butchering a poor defenceless old Latin phrase but I’m figuring the Latin police are long gone by now… surely… No?... Well, even if they’re not, I’m exercising my jure divino to create bona fide ad hoc phrases despite the de facto status quo railing against it… there, I’ve done it again… veni, vidi, vici et cetera… quod erat demonstrandum! Erm… I think that’s enough of that.)

So, antihistamines – not for me. From roughly March till September, I have reconciled myself with the fact that my mornings and evenings, and perhaps afternoons in between, will be accented by nasal explosions, throat clearing, nose blowing, bleary eyed stumbling, soggy hand wiping, frantic throat manipulation and endless apologising, but, as people once used to say in the good old days, sic vita est.

Sic vita est, indeed.

Till next time,

Sx