You there, with the personal aroma cloud

From sixwise.com

People who wear TONS of perfume or cologne are not just unpleasant to be around-they represent a real health hazard for people with allergies, asthma or multiple chemical sensitivities.

Chemicals used in perfumes (read this past article for more on the little-known dangers of chemicals in cosmetics) are almost entirely synthetic, as these are cheaper than natural fragrances, and only about 1,500 of the more than 5,000 materials used in fragrances have been tested for safety.

As many as 30 percent of the public say they have some sensitivity to chemicals, including fragrances, according to the University of Texas Health Sciences Center. Even more serious than that, the American Lung Association reports that exposure to fragrance chemicals may result in dangerous and painful asthma attacks in which muscle spasms, fluid and excess mucous obstruct the airways.

About 14.6 million Americans suffer from these attacks, and 5,000 Americans die, each year as a result. People with sensitivities to fragrances report symptoms including:

• Nausea
• Dizziness
• Shortness of breath
• Lungs tightening and burning
• Headache
• Extreme fatigue
• Muscle aches and weakness similar to the flu
• Brain fogginess
• Difficulty concentrating

Don't be a Germ Spreader: If you wear perfume, don't use half the bottle at once-just spray it on lightly-and don't spray it in a public place. Also, be considerate of those around you. If you know you'll be in a confined space, such as on an airplane or train, consider not using it at all.

Down the Rabbit Hole day

Today is Down the Rabbit Hole day, when bloggers are encouraged to write in a different style than they normally do, so I decided to share two poems I really like, since the computer ate my poetry and I've been too lazy and/or distracted to retype all those pages.

The Mower
Philip Larkin
The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found
A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,
Killed. It had been in the long grass.

I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world
Unmendably. Burial was no help:

Next morning I got up and it did not.
The first day after a death, the new absence
Is always the same; we should be careful

Of each other, we should be kind
While there is still time.



Flying Lesson
Julia Kasdorf
Over a tray of spent plates, I confessed
to the college president my plans to go East,
to New York, which I'd not really seen,
though it seemed the right place
for a sophomore as sullen and restless
as I had become on that merciless
Midwestern plain. He slowly stroked
a thick cup and described the nights
when, a theology teacher in Boston, he'd fly
a tiny plane alone out over the ocean,
each time pressing farther into the dark
until the last moment, when he'd turn
toward the coast's bright spine, how he loved
the way the city glittered beneath him
as he glided gracefully toward it,
engine gasping, fuel needle dead on empty,
the way sweat dampened the back of his neck
when he climbed from the cockpit, giddy.
Buttoned up in my cardigan, young, willing
to lose everything, how could I see generosity
or warning? But now that I'm out here,
his advice comes so clear: fling yourself
farther, and a bit farther each time,
but darling, don't drop.

Cough syrup

On Friday, we had to go to Wilmington, Delaware, a trip we've been making every two weeks for the past several months.

The day after is always a recovery day. We spend it regaining our energy and hacking up black crud, as we do after going to any large city. That's exhausting, too, and painful. We've pulled muscles and torn the connective tissue between ribs, injuries that last long after the cough is in temporary remission.

A recent study shows that the placebo effect is alive and well where OTC cough syrup is concerned, but I bet sales won't suffer because of it.

One good thing

Yesterday we had a few things to do. First was meeting a friend at the local Social Security office to offer moral support as she applied to be representative payee for her sister, whose Alzheimer's has rapidly advanced. Having been in the office previously, I knew I'd need to wear a mask. The guard/traffic cop went past us with his hand over his face as if we (my partner also wore a mask) were contagious. I didn't see him do this, but my partner called him on it. Speaking clearly and loud enough for everyone to hear, she told him, "This is for our protection, not yours."

After that bit of fun we still had to shop at Walmart, which carries a few things our regular grocery doesn't. Since I had been coughing at SSA, even with the mask, I put it on again for the expedition through the store. We split up briefly, and she got the better end of the deal. I got skunked, through the mask, by two men wearing way too much cologne or aftershave. I hacked my way through the aisle and back to her.

She was talking with a small boy, five or six years old, who politely asked her what the mask was. She explained why she was wearing it, and when I returned, still coughing, pointed to me as exhibit a. After we left him, my partner told me that his adult companion told her she has the same problem with fragrances and the same frustration: "People just don't care" that their behavior is harming others.

Happy New Year!

Here's hoping it's safe, happy, healthy and prosperous for everyone.