Spring Literally Takes My Breath Away

---

By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher

For centuries mankind has expounded the gloriousness of spring.  Poets, songwriters, authors, painters – virtually everyone in the arts has glorified the season of awakening.

Hemingway said, “When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest.”  We all know he drank.

In 1921 Picasso painted Three Women in Spring as an ode to the season.  I’ve seen it.  I absolutely do not get how these three extra-large ladies relate to the season, but what do I know?  Art is, after all, subjective.  And of course, Shakespeare’s sonnets and poetry often captured the essence of spring: renewal, beauty, birds singing, flowers blooming.

I am not a fan of spring or anything spring-related, particularly when it comes to grass growing, flowers blooming, trees budding out.  Spring, in any form and incantation, does nothing but make me completely incapable of drawing a deep breath, of ceasing to cough or of breathing at 100 percent.  I’m literally allergic to the concept.

For the past three weeks, I’ve been at a solid 93% pulse ox level.  That is not even an A at The University of Texas!  It’s an A-.  That is not okay.  I’m more of a 99 to 100% girl – in all things, so this springtime situation is not really working for me.

I’ve had steroid shots, breathing treatments, and I suck on an inhaler like it’s a Marlboro Light.  The steroids make me jittery, and coupled with the never-ending inability to breathe, I’m all together rather unpleasant.  I sound like a chain-smoking 80 year-old woman until at least noon on the daily, and I cough so much, I have abs.  I know this because they hurt from all the coughing fits, spitting and spewing.

This spring allergy attack is not a good look for me.  My nose is constantly crimson, my throat always itches and then, the coughing – morning, noon and night.  Of course, there’s always a silver lining.  I don’t want to eat; ergo, I have lost weight during this spring tsunami attack on my respiratory system.  Then there’s the now somewhat visible, if you look real hard, abs.

With my shrinking self, I’ve informed Mr. Kaminski that if all goes south, just find a boot box to put me in.  A full-size casket will not even be necessary.  Now don’t get it twisted; I couldn’t possibly fit into a shoe box, but a nice oversize boot box just might do the trick.

So just as I’m sparring with spring to try to make it through summer, another spring issue pops up: the time change.  So now I’m having to “spring forward” to try to keep up.  None of this “springing” is working for me.

I’ve got to run.  It’s time for me to take my cornucopia of meds as the allergy assault continues, and I’m an hour behind because my watch – much like me – does not spring forward.  See y’all next week – on the porch, hopefully!

---

Patti Parish-Kaminski

Follow Patti Parish-Kaminski on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnThePorchWithPatti/ and on Instagram at instagram.com/ontheporchwithpatti/.