Both morning glories and I with my CAD are warm-weather beings
When the temperature falls, both the vine and my red blood cells wither and die
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The garden behind the old family property had been neglected for many years when my husband and I began whacking and hacking at the weeds and vines some years ago, frequently pausing to enjoy what we’d find beneath the dense vegetation — a brick walkway that surrounded a rose garden, a wheelbarrow completely hidden by the overgrowth.
“How far back do we need to go?” Mike asked me.
“At least as far as the swing,” I replied.
“What swing?” he asked, surveying the yard.
The old swing was completely hidden beneath a tangle of smilax, trumpet vines, and Virginia creeper. We had already opened up some Mister Lincoln and Peace rose plants, and we were exhausted, but we pressed on until the swing was finally discovered, and we decided to call it a day.
The area around that old swing was eventually completely cleared, the vegetation removed, and the swing was replaced with a newer one. But last week, I went out there and was surprised to find the first shoots of morning glories emerging from the ground.
CAD is like a morning glory
Morning glories remind me of my cold agglutinin disease (CAD), which also developed without me having done anything to encourage it.
Both are affected by cold weather: Morning glories die with the first frost, and so do my red blood cells (RBCs) when exposed to low temperatures, a process known as hemolysis. Yes, morning glories and I are both warm-weather beings.
Morning glories also lie dormant during winter — I didn’t even know there were any by the swing until the vine’s sudden appearance in July — and my CAD lies dormant, too, with no symptoms, such as an enlarged spleen or a high immunoglobulin count. Yet both the disease and the vine are persistent, growing stealthily until they demand attention.
If I ignore morning glories, the vine creeps everywhere. It just appeared one day this summer, winding about the swing. The tendrils reach out and attach to anything and everything nearby — azalea bushes, my roses, the boxwood that surrounds my garden, and even the oak tree a couple yards away.
CAD also creeps around my bloodstream, winding its “tendrils” to every cell in my body. The fatigue it causes is constant, and the brain fog leads to forgetfulness and goofiness.
Keeping the vine and CAD contained
I have learned a few tricks to keep morning glories confined, though. I plant them in containers such as raised beds or pots with solid bottoms. Hanging baskets are also recommended to keep the roots from escaping into the surrounding soil. It’s also important to prevent seed pods from forming by removing spent blossoms. This eliminates seed spreading via bird waste.
I must also work to stop my CAD from propagating. I have to wear sweaters and face masks when I’m exposed to cold air, and I need to keep my extremities warm by wearing socks, moving my fingers and toes, and using chemical hand warmers when I need them.
Being diligent pays dividends — with both my morning glories and my CAD. I have been able to enjoy a beautiful and joyous life in the garden by keeping both in check.
Note: Cold Agglutinin Disease News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Cold Agglutinin Disease News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to cold agglutinin disease.
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