I was this close to breaking up with my doctor today.
My friends would probably be like, “Remember the good times, don’t throw it all away, you guys seemed great together,” but here’s the thing – I just don’t feel like we communicate anymore.
It’s just that she keeps telling me the same things – this is like the third time she’s diagnosed me with post-nasal drip when I’ve gone in to her with cold symptoms. Now, some people might say that if I’ve had the symptoms of post-nasal drip three times in the past few years, maybe I really do have it. Nonsense! If I really had it, wouldn’t I have the symptoms all the time?
Is it like with cops, where they have a quota of tickets to give out each month, but she has a quota of post-nasal drip diagnoses to dole out?
Well, quota or not, I took her nasal steroid sample and written directions for what she called a “nasal rinse” and stormed out of the office. While I was waiting for the elevator, I started to glance over the directions:
Equipment needed:
• Bulb syringe
• Tap water
• Table salt
• Baking soda
• Tissues
“Bulb syringe?” I thought. “Isn’t that like those baby snot turkey baster things?”
I went to the drugstore and searched the aisles for bulb syringes, but they were nowhere to be found. This left me no choice but to wait in line at the pharmacy counter and ask for assistance.
“Uh, hi. Yeah, I’m trying to find where you keep the bulb syringes…”
“I’m sorry, what are you looking for?”
“Bulb syringes. You know… for noses?”
“Is it for you or for the baby?”
I looked around to see if some random baby had sidled up to me, but there was just a woman who looked a lot like Shelley Winters standing behind me. I could see her white hair peeking out at her temples from underneath the brown wavy wig she was wearing.
“No, it’s for me. I… I don’t have a baby. I mean, is that okay? Is that all right with you… J. Mitchell? Is there some law that says single women without children can’t buy bulb syringes? Are you judging me? You’re totally judging me. Christ, you have some nerve. All you holier than thou pharmacists, looking down on people like me, with your white lab coats and your Prilosec pens and your sensible shoes and your glasses on a chain. God! It’s not like I just asked you for 100 boxes of Sudafed and some drain cleaner. I JUST WANT TO RINSE OUT THE MUCUS IN MY NASAL PASSAGES, INCLUDING THE HARD TO REACH POSTERIOR NASOPHARYNGEAL AREA! Little help!?!?”
“Aisle 15, ma’am.”
“You’re damn right it is.”
I found the adult equivalent of a baby snot turkey baster, and picked up some red seedless grapes and cinnamon Altoids on the way out, just so it wouldn’t seem like I just came there for the nose thing. Let them think it was an impulse purchase.
As I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, braces removed to reveal my missing tooth, hair pulled back in a pony tail to avoid the inevitable torrent that was about to shoot out of my nose, saline filled syringe slowly nearing my right nostril, I thought to myself, “Jenny? You have truly reached a new low today.”
I glanced over at the directions sitting on the edge of my sink:
1. Lean over sink.
2. Keep your mouth open without holding your breath.
3. Place syringe inside one nostril and gently squeeze until the solution starts draining FROM THE OTHER FRICKIN’ NOSTRIL!!!!! (emphasis mine)
4. If tolerable, sniff in any residual solution remaining in the nasal passage prior to blowing nose.
5. Some solution will reach the back of the throat, so please spit it out.
6. Repeat steps 3-5 for your other nostril.
A few quick breathing exercises to gear myself up… and then I squeezed.
It was the unforgettable sensation of childhood pool parties where you got a little too rowdy and ended up snorting a quarter cup of chlorinated water. Then you would call a time out while you blew your nose into the nearest towel.
But here’s the thing: I think I kind of liked it. I breathed a little easier when it was all over, and more importantly, psychologically I felt like my nose had been purified. All the toxins and cat hair and coal dust and Ritalin I inhale on a daily basis came rushing out the other side, leaving me with what I imagined to be pink healthy nasal passages.
It remains to be seen if this will actually cure the cough, sore throat, weepy eyes, fatigue and headache that I originally went into her office with, but for now, it looks like she dodged a bullet. I won’t be dumping her just yet, but mark my words: if I come in to see her with a back ache next time and she prescribes a high-colonic, we’re totally over.

Filed under: General on May 2nd, 2007