The cedar...Dear God, the cedar...

I thought I'd escaped the pox of cedar by moving to east side of the county. Seriously. Austin straddles a geological fault, and the terrain is different from east to west - everything from soil to rocks to plants. And the east side is blissfully low on cedar trees.

But apparently, this year, that's irrelevant. The cedar pollen doesn't care. It's like freakin' mustard gas.

I thought at first that maybe it was a cold or a garden variety allergy thing - maybe a little oak or a little mold giving me some congestion. I don't *get* cedar fever anymore, after all. But I saw the allergy report, and the cedar is through the roof: 4,000+ grains per atomic measurement or something, and the news folk assure me that even people who aren't allergic are having symptoms. My symptoms - the ones I'm having and that are getting worse with each passing day.

So, I'm screwed. That's what they're saying. George Kanuck on KVUE may as well have said this morning, "Suzanne, you're screwed. Buckle in, because you're going to be on a misery sinus ride for the next several weeks. There's no escape. Take all the medications you like, but there's poison in the air, and if you breathe, you *will* suffer. Sucks to be you."

I'll do everything I can, because my God, you have to at least make an effort. If you're not throwing everything you've got at it, I think you literally die. Your sinuses just stop working, and your body says, "I can't work under these conditions," and you die. I'm taking antihistamine, decongestant, Tylenol, cough syrup. I'm flushing my sinuses with the Neti Pot (incidentally, I think I've gotten more hits on my blog from mentioning that bizarre little invention than on anything I've ever mentioned). I pulled out the humidifier (with inhalant) last night. I'm taking vitamin C, just because...well, it can't hurt. I'm keeping myself hydrated to keep all the gook loosened. It's a freakin' 24-hour job to fight this stuff. And it's going to go on for WEEKS people!

Oh, and on top of everything else, I bashed my face into a door frame this morning. I'm not joking. I had turned out all the lights to leave for work when it occurred to me that I should take my decongestant with me to work. So, I ran back to the bathroom - or to be accurate, I walked really fast - and somehow I got disoriented as to my position in the hall (which never happens because I've been blind since 3rd grade and I can usually maneuver in the dark with ease), and I slammed cheek-first into the bathroom door frame. Blinding pain, a shooting headache that started at the spot on my cheekbone that made contact and radiated into my temple, and the immediate thought of, "Are you kidding me?"

I had no time to ice the spot or do anything really, so I grabbed the decongestant and held my cold-ass fingers to my face halfway to work. I just hope I don't end up with a giant bruise plastered across my cheek. If I do, Jonathan, I'm going to tell people, "Oh that bruise? Well, I can tell you that it's not from Jonathan punching me in the face after I said his hair smelled yummy like a girl's. It wasn't from that."