Nose job.
I've been sick. Not stuck-in-bed-for-weeks draw-the-blinds dying-of-Victorian-ennui sick. Illness that extreme presents things to handily medicate or to stick needles into. No, this is far more sneaky and pervasive, a ninja sick. The kind of sick that keeps a feather in its pocket and uses it to tickle my upper lip while I'm working, interrupting me (and every other writer within 20 yards) an average of three to five times per hour. It's the sick that stops you as you're about to invite a friend out for drinks, because you know that you'll be ready to fall into bed before they even make it to the bar. It leaves behind its quiet calling cards like lost mittens, one in an aching back and another behind a plugged ear, and you can never quite figure out who they belonged to so you can't very well return them, now, can you?
The malaise has been only mildly frustrating. Going to bed early every night, while bad for my social life, has been great for my bank account. The increasing sinus pressure, sneezing and dribbling, though, have been just plain annoying. Blaming a premature onslaught of seasonal allergies, I played the waiting game for three weeks, soggy and splattered, before finally succumbing to the sinal Sahara that is Claritin.
I must clarify at this point that I do not care to be treated for my symptoms. I avoid suppression therapy at all costs, preferring to let my immune system beef up its bag of tricks and take care of interlopers on its own. It is the natural order, and who am I to interfere? I was hopeless, though, fearing for my job and slowly drowning in my own nasal fluid, and the fear of sexual mutiny when my boyfriend discovered that my upper lip had morphed into a salt lick finally drove me to the drugstore for pill-shaped relief.
Apparently, you're not supposed to take Sudafed for too long because the newly-dehydrated infectious matter can get trapped inside the sinuses, and transform into a recurring case of sinusitis. They should include fair warning on the Claritin package, because that's exactly what the wonder-med had in store for me after two pleasantly dry weeks (during which the collective productivity in my office reached a spring high, and my desk neighbor actually smiled at me).
My nose drained steadily, the color shifting towards an alien green. The space between my eyes seemed to grow larger by the hour. Even the simplest of thoughts slid murkily out of focus, and I did little to stifle low moans when in my car or at home. Leaving work early, I remembered back to last year's sinus infection, when my boyfriend told me to buy a neti pot. I balked at the time, but this time I was truly desperate. By 5:00pm, I had one in my tired little ha
Have you heard of this? Jala neti is the ancient yogic practice of nasal irrigation, using a saline solution just like what's already running through your tear ducts. You fill a specially designed pot with lukewarm salt water, and then you pour it in one nostril and let it drain out the other. No, I'm not kidding. Not one little bit.
The practice has been done for thousands of years, and the list of supposed benefits impressed me enough to part with $16: allergy and sinusitis relief, improved breathing, faster healing from colds, improved vision and sense of taste/smell. Besides, growing up in California, I snorted more than my fair share of pool water as a kid. Six summers of Burning Man dust storms up my nose had taught me that sometimes, sticking a finger up there to clear it out was far better than not. How bad could this possibly be?
Day 1: Neti pot, check. Sea salt, check. Warm water, yep. I read the instructions eight times, checking photographs online to get the angle of my head just right and avoid an infused saltwater gargle. Failing at the first point, I endeavor to at least get through the entire pot, but a burning sensation and a bizarre pressure in my tear ducts proves too overwhelming and I manage about a quarter of a pot on each side. Even so, I breathe clearly the rest of the night.
Day 2: A bit more research reveals that sea salt, while a pleasant seasoning for soups and casseroles, is not recommended for intra-nasal cleansing. A quick scan of the cupboard reveals a large box of Kosher salt. A quarter-teaspoon per side yields a soothing waterfall, the great majority of which lands in the sink and not on my shirt. The burning sensation from yesterday does not return. Though I am sluggish at the start, a strange wave of energy hits me 15 minutes later and I am unable to fall asleep until 1:45am.
Day 3: Something inappropriately beige escapes from my right tear duct. Clearly, we are now getting right down into the thick of it. I hurry downstairs and up the salt to a half-teaspoon per side, once again attaining that pleasantly nostalgic but surprisingly painless "I've been swimming!" sensation at the top of both nostrils. I return to work, waiting impatiently to feel some sort of magic, but feel only a mild drip returning cautiously on the left. The poolish sensation sustains for several hours. Food seems to have slightly more flavor. The itching in my eyes has become sporadic.
Stay tuned...
I've been sick. Not stuck-in-bed-for-weeks draw-the-blinds dying-of-Victorian-ennui sick. Illness that extreme presents things to handily medicate or to stick needles into. No, this is far more sneaky and pervasive, a ninja sick. The kind of sick that keeps a feather in its pocket and uses it to tickle my upper lip while I'm working, interrupting me (and every other writer within 20 yards) an average of three to five times per hour. It's the sick that stops you as you're about to invite a friend out for drinks, because you know that you'll be ready to fall into bed before they even make it to the bar. It leaves behind its quiet calling cards like lost mittens, one in an aching back and another behind a plugged ear, and you can never quite figure out who they belonged to so you can't very well return them, now, can you?
The malaise has been only mildly frustrating. Going to bed early every night, while bad for my social life, has been great for my bank account. The increasing sinus pressure, sneezing and dribbling, though, have been just plain annoying. Blaming a premature onslaught of seasonal allergies, I played the waiting game for three weeks, soggy and splattered, before finally succumbing to the sinal Sahara that is Claritin.
I must clarify at this point that I do not care to be treated for my symptoms. I avoid suppression therapy at all costs, preferring to let my immune system beef up its bag of tricks and take care of interlopers on its own. It is the natural order, and who am I to interfere? I was hopeless, though, fearing for my job and slowly drowning in my own nasal fluid, and the fear of sexual mutiny when my boyfriend discovered that my upper lip had morphed into a salt lick finally drove me to the drugstore for pill-shaped relief.
Apparently, you're not supposed to take Sudafed for too long because the newly-dehydrated infectious matter can get trapped inside the sinuses, and transform into a recurring case of sinusitis. They should include fair warning on the Claritin package, because that's exactly what the wonder-med had in store for me after two pleasantly dry weeks (during which the collective productivity in my office reached a spring high, and my desk neighbor actually smiled at me).
My nose drained steadily, the color shifting towards an alien green. The space between my eyes seemed to grow larger by the hour. Even the simplest of thoughts slid murkily out of focus, and I did little to stifle low moans when in my car or at home. Leaving work early, I remembered back to last year's sinus infection, when my boyfriend told me to buy a neti pot. I balked at the time, but this time I was truly desperate. By 5:00pm, I had one in my tired little ha
Have you heard of this? Jala neti is the ancient yogic practice of nasal irrigation, using a saline solution just like what's already running through your tear ducts. You fill a specially designed pot with lukewarm salt water, and then you pour it in one nostril and let it drain out the other. No, I'm not kidding. Not one little bit.
The practice has been done for thousands of years, and the list of supposed benefits impressed me enough to part with $16: allergy and sinusitis relief, improved breathing, faster healing from colds, improved vision and sense of taste/smell. Besides, growing up in California, I snorted more than my fair share of pool water as a kid. Six summers of Burning Man dust storms up my nose had taught me that sometimes, sticking a finger up there to clear it out was far better than not. How bad could this possibly be?
Day 1: Neti pot, check. Sea salt, check. Warm water, yep. I read the instructions eight times, checking photographs online to get the angle of my head just right and avoid an infused saltwater gargle. Failing at the first point, I endeavor to at least get through the entire pot, but a burning sensation and a bizarre pressure in my tear ducts proves too overwhelming and I manage about a quarter of a pot on each side. Even so, I breathe clearly the rest of the night.
Day 2: A bit more research reveals that sea salt, while a pleasant seasoning for soups and casseroles, is not recommended for intra-nasal cleansing. A quick scan of the cupboard reveals a large box of Kosher salt. A quarter-teaspoon per side yields a soothing waterfall, the great majority of which lands in the sink and not on my shirt. The burning sensation from yesterday does not return. Though I am sluggish at the start, a strange wave of energy hits me 15 minutes later and I am unable to fall asleep until 1:45am.
Day 3: Something inappropriately beige escapes from my right tear duct. Clearly, we are now getting right down into the thick of it. I hurry downstairs and up the salt to a half-teaspoon per side, once again attaining that pleasantly nostalgic but surprisingly painless "I've been swimming!" sensation at the top of both nostrils. I return to work, waiting impatiently to feel some sort of magic, but feel only a mild drip returning cautiously on the left. The poolish sensation sustains for several hours. Food seems to have slightly more flavor. The itching in my eyes has become sporadic.
Stay tuned...
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