RACHEL'S COLUMNS
These articles appeared in Rachel's column every Friday in the A3 section of The Age
A wheeze-sneeze phlegm magnet
30th April 2004
As our weather develops a personality disorder and we’re no longer able to predict what mood she’ll be in, I find it’s best to stay indoors and make lists of all the small chores I plan to do, but won’t get done, through winter. This weekend the munchkins at the Bureau of Muesli have predicted wind, rain and cold weather; perfect conditions for constructing a doona tent. I plan to sit under mine and rock back and forth for hours reflecting on the fact that we’re all just spots on the backside of the universe. I’ll probably go over and over what I should have said to the waitress who gave me a filthy look while on a date ten years ago – and because I can, I’ll imagine her in a montage of hideous mishaps.
Yeah, yeah, I know I have to move on, but that’s why nature delivers miserable weather – so we can bring the doona down to the bridge of our nose and take a peek at what makes us cranky. For starters I wish someone would initiate a campaign to stop people sneezing without covering their faces. Am I the only human left on the planet who owns a hankie? I’m a phlegm magnet; not a day passes without some one spluttering and wheezing all over me. Two days ago I walked out of a doctor’s waiting room because the guy sitting next to me was so steamed up and congested you could see the germs doing back flips from his body onto mine.
He was hell-bent on babbling at me but I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. “Ong Ong nnhh voom nuf mem,” he snorted.
I tried to be compassionate but after twenty excruciating minutes I exploded. “Excuuuuuse me,” I snarled, like a nurse holding up a cold thermometer about to perform a rectal examination. “Will you please stop dribbling all over my shoulder!”
“Norry,” he said, stealthily gasping for air. I was unyielding, “Do you have to breath like that – in and out, in and out?”
Every-one seated in that room who needed to cough, sniff or sneeze did so directly in front of my face. Those that were standing, choked and spluttered black smoke above my head like a row of stalling buses. And not one single individual covered their face! What am I – chopped liver?
I know I should be more tolerant, Melbourne is the allergy capital of the world. Forget fashion, buzzy restaurants and glamorous night-life, if you want a thrill-seeking experience of wheezing, sneezing and itching, sniff no further, this is your town baby! Melbourne boasts Australia’s first centre for allergy research, where experts wearing masks are encouraged to explore where no man or woman has gone before–up our noses, down our throats and into our ears. What’s to research? Clearly Melburnian’s allergic reactions are a psychosomatic response to our schizophrenic weather changes.
Living in Melbourne is like being on one of the rides at Luna Park. The fun commences by having lamps shone on you that are oppressively hot. Then you're sprayed with teeth-clattering ice-cold water, followed by a gust of humid northerly wind and finally a chilling blast of arctic air. Triumphantly, you’re handed an umbrella that you learn to carry with you at all times, even though it’s 36 degrees and sweltering hot. I shouldn’t have yelled at that guy for breathing – now I feel guilty – and guilt gives me psoriasis!
Autumn is traditionally the season when newspapers are full of scarifying headlines about killer flu. Last week delivered a new case of SARS in China and some politicians in Canberra have recently been busted wearing pyjamas under their regular clothes to keep warm. Finally the Anzac Day image of our Prime Minister in a flak jacket is making sense – it was to stop him getting the flu. I bet Janette made sure she’d rubbed a bit of Vicks under his Chesty Bonds too. Killer flu, what are the signs – how will I know? Will a huge blob wearing jungle greens and carrying a sub machine-gun slide out of my nose when I sneeze? He’s back, he’s meaner than hell and this time he’s contagious – RAMBOGEY!
