Man! What’s in the air these days? Nothing much is blooming yet, but I’m having an awful, disgusting, terrible time with my allergies. If I’m not blowing my nose, I’m coughing. I feel horrible. All I can hope for is that whatever it is goes away soon.
I’ve been treated extensively over the past 4 1/2 years in an effort to get rid of these symptoms. I’ve been tested by the well-known “prick test.” I’ve used allergy drops under my tongue every day for about four years. I’ve had sinus surgery. I’ve been prescribed nasal sprays and oral medications. And still my problems persist. Tonight I have chorale rehearsal and plan to sit in the back where I can blow my nose without disturbing everyone around me. I’ll also take a day-time cold remedy, which helps some, and squirt my current not-very-effective-but-better-than-nothing nasal spray up my poor beleaguered nose.
So what’s the point? Just this: although I’m spouting off here, I’m trying very hard not to talk about this problem to the people around me. There’s no point, as there’s nothing anyone can do except to say, “I’m sorry you feel so bad.” I had a vague idea as I typed this that there was a Samuel Johnson saying that would fit into this context, but when I googled the words I could remember I instead came up with a quotation from Shakespeare’s Macbeth: “Things without all remedy/Should be without regard./What’s done is done.” Not quite my situation, as good old L.M. is saying to her husband that he shouldn’t lose any sleep over the fact that he’s committed regicide. (I’ve said before, and will reiterate here, that if I never see another Shakespeare play it will be too soon.) Still, there’s a sound principle in the lines: If you can’t do anything about it, keep quiet!
One of the many impressive character traits that my son Gideon displayed during his bout with cancer last year was that he didn’t complain. He would tell us how he felt if we asked him, and he would describe various medical procedures that had been done, but I don’t remember him ever greeting us when we showed up at the hospital with the words, “I feel terrible.” Even in the most awful days before his diagnosis, when he was in ever-increasing pain but we didn’t know why, he didn’t complain. He had times when the pain was so bad that he was actually screaming, but that doesn’t count, as he couldn’t really control that. He never repined, never said, “Why me?” He just . . . got on with things. I was well and truly rebuked for my own complaining nature as I watched him go through agonies.
The “don’t talk about it if there’s nothing you can do” principle holds true in many other areas of life. I was raised in a family that did comment and complain about unfixable problems. You’re caught in a traffic jam? Be sure to keep up a running litany of how awful it is! The waitress hasn’t brought your food yet? Comment prodigiously on her shortcomings! The weather is too hot, or too cold, or too windy? Complain every few minutes! It wasn’t until I married Jim that I realized not everyone does this. Their attitude in the midst of the traffic jam would be more along the lines of, “Well, we have lots of time to talk!” I gradually recognized that the people who didn’t complain, who ignored the unfixable and fixed the fixable, were the . . . cool people. (Can I say that?) It’s very uncool, and uncouth, to complain.
So if you see me with my wad of tissues over the next week or so, just say hi and ignore my honking and coughing. And I’ll try to do the same. Maybe we can talk about the mythic and symbolic aspects of the three witches in Macbeth. Or our hopes that we won’t have an April blizzard in Colorado this year. (But if we do have one, we won’t complain about it. Right?) Or how sad we are that there’s only going to be one more season of Downton Abbey.