I sat slouched over on the papered examining chair at the doctor's office (has anyone ever sat comfortably on those?) yesterday, finally giving in to modern medicine.
Side note: Am I the only one who pushes off going to the doctor because they feel spending $25 to hear "it's viral, there's nothing I can do, it'll pass" is a wash of $25?
Yesterday, I reached my limit. If you've seen or talked to me in the last two months, while we've both been in Boston (emphasis actually important this time), you've probably seen me wiping my nose, or my eyes, or heard the timbre of my voice three octaves below it's usual tin can warble. I've joked that I'm at Target so often buying DayQuil/NyQuil packs that they're going to turn me in to the authorities on suspect of running a meth lab from my home. (Dear Big Brother: I'm not running a meth lab. BLACKBRIAR.) I leave town, and the head cold of doom leaves. I come back to town, my face weeps from nearly every orifice, and my sanity begins circling the drain.
So, there I am at the doctor's office. (Aren't you glad you just lost three minutes of your life to circle back to this point?) Of course I don't have a sinus infection or something treatable with prescription drugs, but I was instructed to stop using menthol nasal spray (sad! but it creates an echo illness!), keep taking the DQ/NQ combo, try a saline nasal spray, and.... wait for it because it's so awful... a nasal rinse.
People. This is not a joke. You concoct a rinse from water and secret ingredients. Warm. And then squeeze with even pressure until the rinse starts draining from your other nasal cavity. Don't forget to leave your mouth open and breathe. Don't worry if some of the rinse slides down the back of your nasal cavity into your mouth. But don't swallow it.
Um, freak me right the freak out. NOTHING natural about that. So, in my twenty-seven years of wisdom, I grimaced and winced right in the doctor's office, sitting on the crinkly paper with a hunchback (and as uncomfortable as it was, boy was I happy not to be lying on that chair in stirrups). He kind of shrugged his shoulders, said it was up to me, but people swear by the method. Considering he prescribed me no other medication for the stuffiness that may drive me to a padded cell, I purchased the nasal rinse kit at the pharmacy.
Stared at it. And stared at it. The whole thing looks like a purchase from an infomercial. Oh but wait. I guess it was. (Watch an instructional video too!) I finally mustered the strength to read the instructions. Did not nasal rinse. Went about my daily life instead.
Cue bedtime. Still plugged. Can't sleep. Thinking about that darn nasal rinse. Internally cringing, but deciding to give it a go. Warmed up the water. Created the secret solution. Put the bottle up to my right nostril, applied some pressure... squeezed... and yes indeed. I squoze water through my face out the other side. Ironically, it wasn't that bad--but watching that video made me squeemy all over again and dread doing it. As long as I breathed through my mouth and calmed my frantic brain, it didn't last or feel so bad. IT'S JUST NOT NATURAL. (Like having a clamp on your eyeball. Brain. Does. Not. Compute.)
The upside is that my doctor told me to avoid the cold as much as possible, so since I clearly follow everything he says, I'm keeping myself inside, working from home. Being in your pajamas at 2:42 on a Wednesday might just be worth a nasal rinse.