Nothing to Cry Over

Does This Area Give You Allergies? Probably Not

In this predictably wretched season of sneezing, sniffling, coughing and itchy, watery eyes, meet Andrea Theis. The Silver Spring mother moved here in the late 1990s from her native Utah, where she suffered spring and fall from the gunk in the air. She was warned to expect the worst: Even people without allergies, she was told, get them in Washington.

But a bizarre thing happened on her way to the medicine cabinet. The trees bloomed, the grasses grew and Theis's allergies . . . abated.

"I was worried, because everyone seemed so miserable," she recalled this week, standing Kleenex-less on a playground while her young daughter explored the jungle gym.

So much for one of the most common allergy myths in these parts: that the Washington region is so green and pollen-saturated, everyone is an allergy target. The reality: Some are. More aren't. Others actually find relief upon arrival. And, according to the specialists, the same thing happens all over, in warm and cold climes, anytime someone with a genetic capacity to react to a certain allergen is suddenly exposed to it.

It's admittedly little comfort for those most susceptible as the oaks here begin to bud, along with the maples, cedars, junipers and birches. Starting in late March -- weeks earlier during a warm winter -- noses clog, heads ache, throats scratch as the body's immune system goes into overdrive to repel the invader particle.

There is no question that Washington's pollen count at times competes with the worst of the worst, with airborne grains measured in the thousands per cubic meter. Since the heavy rains last weekend, allergy alerts have warned of levels high enough to trigger severe problems. Daily dustings turn car windshields yellow. Allergists' offices are jammed; patients calling yesterday for an appointment at Fishman Allergy and Asthma on K Street NW will wait until late May to see the doctor, Henry Fishman.

"This is awful right now," said Mike Twigg, his voice hoarse. His symptoms never really disappear no matter what the calendar shows, but they crescendo in April and May. Several years ago, his energy lagging, sick days increasing, the Springfield dentist added monthly shots to a regimen of prescription drugs and over-the-counter medication. "I was at the end of my rope. I thought, 'I can't live like this.' "

Yet, discrediting another supposed allergy truism, Washington cannot claim distinction as the nation's allergy epicenter. "Isn't it enough that we're ground zero for terrorism and other things?" asked Daniel Ein, chief of the allergy division at George Washington University Medical Center. "Do we have to heap this on ourselves, too?"

Not until last week did the region make the top 10 in the Asthma and Allergy Foundation of America's annual list of "the most challenging places to live with spring allergies," which it began in 2003. Its ninth-place finish represents a big jump from 16th in 2005, though the list's weighted scoring means considerable reshuffling from year to year among the 100 cities included.

Three factors play into the analysis, and this region compares poorly on two of them. Based on pharmacy and physician data from last spring, local residents used more prescription and nonprescription antihistamines and nasal sprays per patient than the national average while having access to fewer board-certified allergy, pulmonology and immunology specialists.

Still, when it comes to the predicted prevalence of certain pollens and molds, recorded spore levels and the duration of the peak season, cities such as Hartford, Conn., Sacramento and even Detroit are tougher on sufferers. "There is no safe place from your triggers. They are everywhere," said Mike Tringale, the foundation's communications director.

The ranking invariably draws a few complaints from people who think their cities should be rated higher. (Ein has noticed "a kind of perverse civic pride in having the worst allergy situation. It's not particular to Washington.")

But the foundation's greater point is to highlight the reach and impact of allergies -- it pegs their cost at $7 billion a year in the United States -- and to prompt not more hand-wringing and nose-blowing by the 36 million Americans with hay fever, but more research and funding for treatment.

The usual recommendation for seasonal sufferers is that they limit their exposure by curtailing outdoor activities: during early spring for those sensitive to tree pollens, late spring and early summer for those avoiding pollinating grasses, and late summer and early fall for people set to sneezing by ragweed.

The advice is worthless for Jim DeRamus, a horticulturist at Brookside Gardens in Wheaton. DeRamus grew up in the area but, inexplicably, did not develop allergies until he was in his mid-forties . Nowadays he battles back with an antihistamine, endures intermittently sleepless nights and counts down to June. "You find something you love," he said, "you'll do whatever it takes to keep doing it."

An understanding spouse helps, and DeRamus has that. His wife works on a tree farm. And her allergies are worse than his.