Netti, Set...Go!

Hormones do wacked-out things to your body. In our favorite manual "What to Expect When You're Expecting," pretty much any weird symptom that you worry about and look up has the same answer: hormones. Mood swings and hot flashes are the more obvious symptoms of pregnancy hormones; the less obvious include carpel tunnel, fast-growing hair, and chronic nasal congestion. If you think bellies and ankles are the only things that swell in pregnancy, you are sorely mistaken. Swollen nasal membranes = illnesses that are nearly impossible to get rid of.

On Friday, I woke up with the beginnings of my 3rd sinus infection in 2 months. By the afternoon, I was having trouble hiding it. Let's just say that while I was in a patient's home, listening intently to the concerns of a mother, I felt something hot and wet trickle down my upper lip. That would be snot, folks. Snot that came without warning because my left nostril was completely occluded. All I could do was lick, and quickly, before anyone noticed. Gross and canine-like, yes; but a quick sweep of the tongue across my lip was much less conspicious than wiping my nose on my sleeve, or letting it drip onto the family's floor. What would have been the point to respectably removing my shoes at the door if I was just going to blow my nose on the carpet?

Before finding out I was preggo, I used to think that being sick and being pregnant was not a good combination because you can't take anything. This isn't necessarily true. I am allowed Sudafed and Tylenol, the occasional short course of nasal steroid, and have already exhausted two courses of different antibiotics with previous infections. My doctor had a lot of sympathetic frowns for me this morning, which I appreciated. But as she looked in her drug reference book, we found that I had exhausted most of my options for pregnancy-safe antibiotics. I have one left to try.

Beside my bed, I have a tupperware container. A sick-bin, containing Sudafed, Kleenex with lotion, inhalers, Tylenol, nasal spray, chapstick for lips that frame a mouth constantly hung open, you get the idea. I never get around to storing its conents away before I need them again, which is useful, and this morning I went to Cub and bought everything I thought I'd be willing to drink. Okay, and donuts. I am all about stocking up my environment with things to help me get better, in addition to whatever I'm picking up at the pharmacy counter. When I heard that this was the last option for an antibiotic, I reluctantly succommed to the inevitable. I would have to add to my sick-bin something that I have been avoding purchasing for quite some time: a Netti Pot.

Chronic sinus-sufferers swear by sinus washing, and swear by the Netti Pot. Even so, before today's desperation, I just couldn't go there. First of all, I just don't like the word "pot". It reminds me of the toilet, and I am opposed to putting something that reminds me of the toilet anywhere near my nose. Secondly, it looks like a mini-tea kettle. That's just freaky. I was pleased, then, to find that Cub did not carry the Netti Pot itself, but a more modern descendent, a very non-threatening water-bottle-looking version. I can handle water bottle.

Step 1. Wash hands. I can do that. Step 2. Fill bottle with warm water and sprinkle in a packet of granules, then shake to mix. I can do that, too. Step 3. Hey, there are only 3 steps! I'm almost done! This isn't so bad. Lean over sink, open your mouth, put the tip inside your nose and gently squeeze until- oh, nasty - it comes out either the other nostril or your mouth. Ohhhhh-kay, this is just unnatural. I felt a mixture of amusement and disgust when - oh, my gosh- it actually did come right out the other side. I'm a nurse and I know my anatomy, but I was still mildly entertained by this. Until it then also came out my mouth, and that's when I felt like I was purposefully snorting water from a swimming pool. The directions went on: keep squeezing until 1/2 of the bottle is gone. "But that's 3 ounces!," I silently protested to the Netti-Pot -Descendent- maker as I continued to irrigate the inside of my head. Heavens, this was torture. I finally reached the center line on the bottle, and with warm saline still dripping out of my mouth and off the tip of my nose, I read the rest of the instructions: gently blow your nose. I made it! That was it! Oh no, wait, there was more: Repeat step 3 for the other side. Grrrreat. Nostril number two proved more difficult as it was more occluded than nostril one. I squeezed and squeezed the bottle; when I didn't see it dripping out of any oraface, I could have sworn that I felt pressure behind my eyes. Was that possible?! Finally it worked itself through my mouth, which I can hardly say was a relief, but at least I was't wiping snotty tears from my eyes.

Tonight, I asked Michael if he wanted to see me wash my sinuses. He stayed planted in bed, far from the bathroom sink. "Nope." I thought guys liked gross stuff like this, watching things go in one side and out the other. Aren't they infatuated with body functions? I guess today I am the one with the stronger stomach.