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Living Without magazine
April/May 2008

For over a year, my eleven-year-old son, Robby sniffed and snorted every 15 to 20 seconds. Loudly. Without fail. SNIFF. SNORT. Driving in the car, eating dinner, putting him to bed, trying to read the paper or make dinner in the same room. SNIFF. SNORT.

It drove me crazy. It really bugged my otherwise Zen-like husband. We’d routinely hand him a tissue and command him to blow his nose. But 15 seconds later, he’d be right back at it again. SNIFF. SNORT.

“ROBBY! At least TRY to stop sniffing,” I’d plead.

“Ok, I will,” he’d promise. But 15 seconds later. SNIFF. SNORT.

Outside playing football or Frisbee, on the tennis court, watching TV, playing XBox. SNIFF. SNORT. It drove his three, older brothers nuts, and they’d punch and hit him to get him to stop. His friends would cajole him to knock it off. Even strangers would offer him Kleenex. It was THAT bad.

We thought it was just another bad habit he developed. Something he started as soon as he stopped throwing head to the side to get his hair out of his eyes, which started as soon as he stopped itching his nose, which started as soon as he stopped obsessively blinking his eyes, which started as soon as he stopped making slurping noises with his mouth, which started as soon as he stopped…

You get the point.

I’d try to reason with him, telling him the snorting sound was really gross. I would point out old men doing it and ask, “Do you realize that’s what you sound like, bud?” He would somberly shake his head and promise to stop. I was so proud of myself for coming up with such great rationale. But 15 seconds later. SNIFF. SNORT.

We’d send him to bed early, ground him from the computer, make him go to his room. Nothing would make him stop the infuriating noise-making. SNIFF. SNORT.

After an extremely frustrating, irritating and exasperating morning drive with Robby to school, I called a pediatric allergist and made an appointment. I really didn’t believe he needed an allergist. We lived in Ohio most of Robby’s life where Robby had a week or two of seasonal allergies but nothing like the snorting and sniffing that had been going on since we moved to Atlanta over a year ago. I thought threatening him with this appointment and the possibility of shots or surgery on his nose might break this habit and scare him sniff-less.

It just scared him.

The day of his appointment, Robby was so anxious he couldn’t eat breakfast and trembled as we sat in the waiting room. He bravely held back tears as tray after tray of potential allergens were pushed into his back and his arm was pricked with eight tiny needles of full of dust and mold.

A few minutes later, hives began popping up all over his back and up and down his arm. Ten minutes later, the bumps ran together and his entire back became red and swollen. Robby was allergic to dust mites, dog and cat dander, Red Oak, Willow, Hickory, Birch, Red Maple, Red Cedar, Elm and Sycamore trees; Bahia, Bermuda, timothy fescue, Johnson and June grasses; ragweed and many different molds. He was even slightly allergic to peanuts.

He squirmed and complained that his back hurt and itched unbearably. The allergist told me Atlanta was infamous for its year-round high pollen count and the unusually high number of allergy sufferers—both native Georgians and transplants like Robby, who had no problems when they lived elsewhere.

Robby burst into tears, as if the pressure of trying to stop sniffing and snorting to try please his family finally hit him.

I held him and apologized again and again for being so hard on him. I begged him to forgive me. Obviously, this was not going to be the year I won the “Mother of The Year” award.

With tears running down his face, he looked up and asked, “Can you talk to my brothers and make them apologize too?” SNIFF. SNORT.

I promised I would.

Epilogue: The allergist recommended Robby wash his hands after petting the dog, emptying his bedroom of stuffed animals, getting rid of the carpeting and making his bed with allergen-free bedding. If this doesn’t help, Robby will have weekly allergy shots.

His brothers apologized immediately. They seem to have found other reasons to punch him, though. And thankfully, Robby is no longer sniffing and snorting. Unfortunately, he has now developed the habit of sucking air loudly through his mouth. Is there a doctor for that?

Used with permission courtesy of Living Without magazine
www.livingwithout.com

(Update:  Robby began immunotherapy shortly after I wrote this original article.  He did well on the routine: two shots per arm, three times a week.  I, on the other hand, did not do well getting him to the allergist's office that many times a week. Aside from the time involved, the cost was staggering (over $300/month, including a $20 co-pay every time we walked into the allergist's office.  Plus, there was no improvement in his sniffling, etc.  After about 4 months, I had had enough.  

Thankfully, I began researching treatments when we started putting this segment together and discovered sublingual immunotherapy.  Three months ago, Robby began the drops.  Every morning, after he brushes his teeth, he puts three drops under his tongue and then goes on with his day.  No more co-pays and the cost is around $120 for a three month supply.  No marked improvement in his symptoms yet but we'll keep you updated.)  

Diana Keough is the mother of four sons and the co-founder and Editor-in-Chief of ShareWIK.com.

For more Diana Keough articles, click here.

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