Trapped Inside

(re-run)

As the roses explode in red, peach and orange colors across my two yards, I am stuck inside. Through the window, I see mounds of yellow blossoms on the Jerusalem sage plants, both front and back, red and white petals on the Hot Lips sage, purple tips on the English lavender, and every other color you can think of, except blue.

I don’t do blue flowers. So, imagine my horror when a garden designer jotted down blue and then returned with a whole garden planned around blue flowers. Needless to say, I didn’t use her services.

But I digress. It’s May, and I am stuck inside. Pollen is not my friend and has become more of an enemy every year. It doesn’t help that I live in a valley where the pollen sits and waits to get me when I walk out the door.

I take Zyrtec and use a nasal spray that costs more per month than my first apartment. I have an appointment scheduled with an allergist, but it’s not for two weeks, plus I have to go off my allergy meds for 5 days and 3 days, pill and spray.

In the meantime, I have events to attend outside. How in the heck will that work? Yes, we are still wearing pandemic masks, but I need a super-duper grade N-95 mask to keep the pollen at bay. Those aren’t the prettiest masks you’ve ever seen, but what choice do I have? Wear the ugly mask or stay home.

I’m back. My son is adding a router to the home network so he can have better internet. He needed my help holding the flashlight while he moved the plugs around. I won’t be complaining about him here. A nurse friend just told me her son died from a Fentanyl overdose last summer. That is the third mom I know who lost a son to Fentanyl. It’s a heartbreak for too many parents. I hope the drug company that makes the drug goes bankrupt by the time the government gets done with them.

Oops — I have digressed yet again. Back to my nose. Actually, it’s my throat that closes up every now and then and gives me a good scare. Gasping for air is one way to appreciate every good breath you get.

So, I stay inside. I write, I sew, I read, while I long to do yardwork and to clean up the sticks and weeds in my sister’s carehome’s backyard where we walk. But I can’t. Yesterday I couldn’t even take her for a walk. I lost my breath and went into a panick. Looking back, I should’ve worn a real mask when walking the dogs, not just a bandana. I should not have trimmed some branches off my huge hedge, wearing only a bandana over my nose and mouth. I learned a hard lesson. The pollen isn’t over. I am not out of the woods yet.

I might be able to scrounge up one N-95 mask for Friday evening’s music in the parking lot of a golf course restaurant. I won’t be able to sing along. I won’t be too styling either. Hopefully I can breathe.

That’s my # 1 priority these days.