I was able to book an appointment with the ENT for three weeks later. I was hoping I would go in and he would tell me I had some viral infection, or something that would be easy to fix. I figured, since the doctor had a last name that was the same as the maiden name of my wonderful Irish/Canadian mother, that I was in good hands. Let me start by saying that just because your doctor has a last name that is the same as the maiden name of your wonderful Irish/Canadian mother, and just because he is about your age and ridiculously good looking (not in a Derek Zoolander ridiculously good looking kind of way), does not mean he is necessarily going to be a really nice man who will solve your medical problem immediately. Don't get me wrong, I checked him out professionally, and based on the fact he had a top notch education, was well published, and had very high recommendations, I remain confident he is a top notch physician, or more correctly, surgeon.
So I walk in, sit down, pay my co-pay, wait about four minutes, walk in to an exam room, wait about 120 seconds, and he comes flying in, dressed in scrubs, looks at my nose a couple of times, then says "well, from what I see here, you have chronic rhinusitus and would be an excellent candidate for surgery". SURGERY. SURGERY ? For F*#@k's sake! I haven't had surgery ever, except when I was eleven and a Dr. Shapiro (at the Hunterdon Medical Center where they claim I don't exist), extracted a couple of molars to prepare me for braces. I actually said "you are kidding right ? It's just a sinus infection". He was neither kidding nor did he find any humor in my asking if this was a joke. He went on to inform me that I am "anatomically disadvantaged", and the hourglass shape of my sinuses is small.
Now comes the part in the story where we experience irony in it's purest form. Hourglass. Hourglass is how one would generally describe the shape of my figure, which has in no way, shape or form, ever been described as small. Ever. Athletic, yes, but small, never. Hilarious God, I get the joke.
The ENT then said I should have been put on topical steroids in the first place and we could try it to see if it would work. He also ordered a CT-Scan, which was conveniently located downstairs from his office. I did that immediately. The technician asked me why I was there, and when I told him the ENT thought I might need sinus surgery, he said "Of course he said that, he's a surgeon". Comforting.
I received a voicemail message almost two weeks later from the ENT, in which he said, I think, that I had a "maxifacial sinus fissure" and that I should have minimally invasive sinus surgery. He also said I should call him back and let him know what I wanted to do. I called him back, and didn't hear from him again. He clearly wasn't from the same lineage of the last name of my amazing Irish/Canadian mother. They definitely would have called me back.
By this time I was getting unbearable headaches, to the point that I was starting to think that I had something far worse wrong with me, like maybe a brain tumor or an aneurysm. There were even a few nights that I didn't go to sleep because I was afraid I would not wake up. My eyesight was still getting worse, and when I would try to go for a run, my nasal passages would start burning.
All throughout the autumn months, friends had kept advising me to try a "neti-pot". I didn't do it, because the idea of sticking the spout of a teapot up your nose with the goal of the liquid coming out the other side just wasn't appealing to me. Honestly, it sounded pretty disgusting. But I was desperate, so I did it, and it was awesome ! Neti-pot temporarily changed my life, At least enough to help me get through Christmas with two pots per day. I tried the topical steroids also, but they didn't really help and they made my throat hurt. I was basically coming home and making myself a cocktail of neti-pot, Ibuprofen, and Ambien (for sleep). I had stopped working out completely and was pretty unhappy. I no longer want to be around me, which I'm pretty sure meant no one else wanted to be around me either. All of this and work was more stressful than it had ever been. Good times.
The dogs were even over my bad attitude and constant misery, and then it was New Year's Eve.
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