IHAD A CONVERSATION with my sister the other day that a lot of other suffering folks will understand.

It went something like this:

"Hey (sneeze) brother (choke), how are you (cough)?"

"Oh (sniffle), hey girl (wheeze), how are you doing (snort)?"

"From the sounds of it (achoo, achoo, achoo) about like you!"

Yes, it's that time of year when temperatures rise, flowers bloom and misery reaches out to smack a sizable chunk of us with seasonal allergies upside the head.

This year, doctors tell us, things are going to be especially bad.

Remember that wet, wet winter we just had?

Sure, it was great for wells, the water table and reservoirs throughout the area.

But the wet, wet conditions have supercharged plants, grasses and trees, producing enough pollen to reduce allergy sufferers like me to sneezy blithering idiots.

I knew something was up this year after waking up one morning with eyes full of what felt like sharp, irritating grains of sand.

Hey now, hay fever had begun.

In no time, I went running for drugs to put some distance between me and the Big Sneeze.

Those lucky enough to have been spared seasonal allergies probably aren't familiar with the Big Sneeze.

But those of us with runny noses, watery eyes and shaky spirits know it all too well.

It's the sneeze you can't fight, the one that shakes your body and soul so hard it scares you.

The problem with that first Big Sneeze: It's instantly infectious.

One immediately brings another, and another and another, to the point where we're left clutching an empty box of Kleenex and sides aching from the effort. Then we repeat that unpleasant ritual all day and night.

Yes, there are all sorts of modern drugs and treatments to alleviate this spring suffering, and I've tried most of them. Some help, some don't.

As a youngster and again as a young man, I took the allergy shots and reached a point of success where, for me, there never was a full sneezin' season.