August and September are notoriously unpleasant for those of us with allergies. Every year around this time, there comes a day when I find myself absolutely miserable, eyes watery, kleenex massacred all over the floor, breathing becomes a chore.
Thank you, Autumn.
Most days Zyrtec keeps my allergies in check, but last Thursday life was unbearable. Unable to focus at work, I called the nearest clinic and explained I needed an appointment with any doctor, and I needed it as soon as possible, because I needed prescription-strength allergy pills.
Going to the doctor's office is usually not high on my list of "fun things to do". But I've had allergy prescriptions in the past, so I knew there was a solution, the only thing yet between me and relief was getting the Doc's signature to bring to the pharmacy (okay, electronic signature, but you get the point).
Meanwhile, going through my mind was, "yes, Doctor, I weight 145 pounds, I don't smoke, no fever, just give me the pills!"
Don't worry, Mom, I was nice about it.
In reality it was under and hour (though in "I'm-not-feeling-well-give-me-pills" mode it felt much longer) and I was on my way home with an Rx of Fexofenadine, a nasal spray, and a steroid to help kick-start the feeling-well-ness. I'm pretty sure the steroid is what gave me a nasty headache yesterday, but at least I can breathe again and don't look like I've been crying all day. So I think that's progress, right?