By the looks of it, the whole of Malta is suffering from rhinosinusitis: the inflammation of the nasal passages and sinus cavities, which cause a blocked nose, nasal discharge and facial pain.
The Malta Medical Journal revealed that in 2009 more than €100,000 was spent (pointlessly) on radiographs, X-rays and CT scans by doctors trying to understand what’s wrong with their patients, and to finally step back and say: “Ah! Is-sinus, sinjura!”
Eh. I should know. My sinus goes haywire in June. By August I am usually partially deaf in one ear; I hear my own echo when I speak; and in rhino-style, I am perpetually grunting through my nose, trying to get the mucus out.
In summer, everyone used to sit out on the doorstep chatting, enjoying the light summer breeze. Now only old people do that
I’ve been prescribed: antihistamines, anti-inflammatories, steroids, antibiotics, the works. They either make me feel like a rhino shot with a tranquiliser, or else like a rhino whose river water has been contaminated with Red Bull. In short, the medicine either zonks me out or hypers me away.
These days I don’t do anything, except swim in the sea at every opportunity. And I stay away from air conditioning. In fact, I point my finger fair and square at air con for this influx in sinus problems.
The thing is, there is a limit to how much you can avoid ACs. I am one of the few citizens with an AC-free home and car. I’m lonely in summer because no one ever wants to hitch a lift with me, except fellow sinus sufferers.
I have developed an aversion for air conditioning because: a) it’s spoiling the seasons: air con makes me want a hot chocolate more than an ice-cream, and at work I have to wear layers of cardigans on top of my summer dresses, and b) it’s spelling the death of the open window.
When was the last time you opened a window this summer? We no longer open car windows, house windows or office windows. We are living in hermetically-sealed structures. New buildings are all un-openable stretches of glass – and the air around us has become a collective non-choice: we have lost the power to ventilate our patch of office desk or car seat.
Takes buses: During the era of the yellow buses, it used to be that if you opened the window you’d get lung cancer from the fumes throttled out. But, now on our modern buses – with sealed windows so as not to affect the air con efficiency – when the air con breaks down (all the time), we’re boiling ourselves alive because we cannot open the windows.
One of my favourite authors, Harry Mount, wrote in The Telegraph recently about this matter. He traced the whole history of the window: from the Roman era when glass was first inserted into wall apertures, right up to the sophisticated windows of the Victorian period.
“And then,” he asks, “Suddenly, over the last 20 years, we regressed and sealed our windows permanently shut. Why?”
The New Yorker magazine this month also tackled the issue: “What if, in an apocalyptic turn of events, the world’s air conditioners just stopped working? What would we do then?”
In the pre-air conditioning era, argues journalist Joshua Rothman, your open windows let you snoop on your neighbours and everyone knew what was going on. Now no more.
No wonder the Maltese trust each other much less than citizens of many other developed countries, according to a study on social cohesion released last week.
In summer, everyone used to sit out on the doorstep chatting, enjoying the light summer breeze, or sharing a whine or two if there’s a lack of it. Now only old people do that, the rest of us are boxed inside, chilling our bones under the AC.
It is in this spirit that last week, my daughter and I camped on the roof, under the stars, both of us giggling with excitement as we counted shooting stars. We had to cover up with sheets in the cool night time air. (At 2am we were voraciously attacked by mosquitoes and we had to sheepishly make our retreat – but we’ll be back armed with Stermino stuff).
It’s true that air con makes us more productive: the heat does tend to wilt the brain, but isn’t that the nature of summer? It’s the season to relax, sans the sinus problems. In summer we should follow the call of leisure and save our energy for the winter days when we’ll be stuck inside because the weather is unpleasant.
I’ll end this piece by suggesting a quirky, charming little poem that I really like, Before Air Conditioning by Frederick Seide, that talks about the joys of throwing the windows open: “The sweetness of the freshness of the breeze!/ The wind is wiggling the trees/ It’s the smell of laundry on the line/ And the smell of the sea, brisk iodine.”
Twitter: @KrisChetcuti