Cold Weather Ramblings - Dr. Ed Iannuccilli

Monday, February 13, 2023

Dr. Ed Iannuccilli, Columnist

Weathering the freeze that penetrates Chicago in February is not easy. We experienced it when we visited one year. Everyone wears a face mask because of the biting cold and harsh wind on Michigan Avenue. And so, too did we experience that kind of weather last week here in Rhode Island; fortunately not sustained as in Chicago.

 

I ventured out to feed the birds on Saturday, the day it registered minus seven, abetted by a persistent whistling wind that increased the risk of frostbite. The trees squeaked in the whipping gusts. For this cold snap, I was a model of efficiency, donning a heavy coat with a hood, long johns, scarf tucked to my nose, high-top boots, Alpaca socks, toque, and thermal gloves.  In-out, feeder loaded, suet caged, done-in enough by cold, I was homed for the day. From my cozy denizen, I was gratified as I watched the awaiting birds’ feast.

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Why the word snap for cold? The best answer I found was from the UK where it seems related to the snap of snapping jaws; a sharp, short, sudden spell of frost. I remember itchy toes and a cozy home with hissing, squeaking, pinging, banging, rumbling, and whistling radiators in the snaps of my youth.

 

That ready little radiator can be a behemoth when it wants to be; warming your backside when you stand against it, drying your clothes, warming your coffee cup or French toast dish, heating orange skins, or even roasting chestnuts. We had them in the house we just sold, but not in this new one. I miss the sounds and the comfort they brought.

 

Winter days could be beautiful, but treacherous for us kids. Because I was sledding, I ignored my freezing toes and hands for too long. When the pain peaked, I had to get in the house to remove the layers: mittens, toque, scarf, snowsuit, boots of a thousand buckles (ouch my fingers), sweatshirt, gloves and wet socks that I had to peel off. I spread the socks and mittens on top of the welcoming radiator and slid my white-toed, cold feet underneath. And then trouble.

 

My puffy toes began to itch and burn like crazy. Unaware then, today I understand why the itch. When frozen toes are exposed to heat, the skin’s blood vessels dilate quickly. Unable to manage the rapid increase in blood flow, those tiny vessels suddenly expand before the larger vessels they are attached to can manage it. Fluid then leaks into surrounding tissues, which in turn becomes swollen and results in low threshold pain, the itch. Sometimes little bumps, chilblains, a term derived from two Old English words chill (cold) and blegen (sore), arise.

 

Well, days of yore. It won’t happen again. Oops, it just did to me. I had chilblains last year. “COVID toe,” said the doctor. OK, I’ll accept it, but there was no COVID back then.

 

The birds? Don’t forget them. Imagine how they feel in this cold. Buy a feeder. Fill it with seeds. Set out the suet. They love it, and so too will you.

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