Nose-igation, or Coming to my Senses, Part II!!!

Having cystic fibrosis means I am more prone than most to sprouting nasal polyps; nasty little unplanned growths inside the nostril, shaped kinda like cauliflowers, tend to block things up and be a nuisance, especially if you enjoy breathing. No doubt, belonging at the end of this paragraph is some bereavement aimed at a hypothesised Divine Creator and Her/His ineffable sense of humour.

When I was twelve, I had surgery to pluck two of these things from both of my nostrils. With a mouth constantly sandpaper dry and a nose constantly spewing swamp-matter, I'd say I lead a pretty normal life style for those of that age. But apparently, breathing is important in the long term, and so is not having vegetables descending from your nose and invading your face, so out they came. Actually, it was less "plucked" and more "gnawed"; they actually used a tiny mechanical jaw contraption to chew and grind the Boltzmann brain matter into excavate-able mush. I suppose belonging at the end of this paragraph is some ironic sense of relief that technology has definitely advanced since 3000AD.

Anyway, the Relevant Bit: For a good while afterwards I could breath and smell again, great! But then I was diagnosed with yet more polyps again, which have been growing ever since, boo! However, this time round they've had the good courtesy of only disrupting my sense of smell this time, and relentless use of Weed Killer-esque nasal spray has kept them from growing out of control and terrorising villages, etc.

It was only as I told my nose-specialist doctor, in our most recent appointment (incidentally, the very same I had my ears cleared, yay), when I revealed that any semblance of a sense of smell I might have had has long since been relinquished, that he provided me with a solution.

The solution was this: one teaspoon sugar, one teaspoon salt and one teaspoon bicarbonate of soda mixed into boiled water left to cool. This then gets snorted up my nose. This is what is known as a nasal douche. Actually, I use a bottle to squirt it, but still.

If you ever wondered about the etymology of the term "douche" as an insult (and never thought to utilise the largest resource of information known to the history of anything on this planet to find such an answer, even though you're using it to read this), then this is very nearly, but not quite where it's origin lies.

The other thing I was given was military grade, weaponised, bio-hazardous, nose drops, which require you to kindly ignore the laws of physics regarding the force of gravity, so you can drop a droplet or two right up in the nostril to attack the invader directly.

And that wasn't over-zealous hyperbole on my part, it simply can't have been because I'm pretty sure that, as of the time of typing this post 1:00am Tuesday morning, even if only temporarily, it has worked. I know this, because the air smells funny, just ever so slightly, like a whiff of something fowl round the corner, but it doesn't go away, as if perhaps someone smeared something unpleasant just above your top lip. And it didn't used to smell of anything.

And also, I've just been to the toilet. I have been granted no luxury.

Stay tuned for next week folks, where I'll be having my eyes unblocked thereby revealing that everything I ever thought I saw has been a mental construct protecting me from the horror of the horribly evil Nasal Polyps, their threat was real after all. All that and more in: Coming to my Senses, Part III: Eye-migration Off Earth!