Over the past few weeks I’ve been spending a little quality time with a nose specialist. No, I’m not flirting with the notion of transforming my honker into a sharpened beak that could sharpen a knife. Just getting my nasal breathing problems fixed, as I mentioned a few months ago.
My regular doctor referred me to this particular nose specialist. I’m aware that specialists are renowned for exorbitant fees, but I was in his attendance for the entire length of a Brand Power infomercial! This lead me to fret about the level of attention he was paying to everything. The referral letter from my doctor was clearly signed by a “Jessica”, but he kept referring to her as “he”.
Nose specialist: So your doctor prescribed some nasal sprays prior to this, did he?
Me: Yes… she did.
Nose specialist: Did he suggest you try this particular brand?
Me: Yes, JESSICA did.
Nose specialist: How often did he prescribe you use the nasal spray?
Me: SHE told me to use it twice a day, right before she excused herself from the surgery TO CHANGE HER TAMPON.
After turning it over in my head, I’m uncertain what’s more of concern: that I have a latently sexist specialist, or simply a perenially hungover specialist.
Most of my appointment consisted of the specialist ramming a tiny camera up my nasal passages and down the back of my throat, while he made worrying “ooh” and “gosh” noises. That was when he made an unexpected suggestion: would I like to take a look at the TV monitor and take a close-up view of my inner nostrils?
Without waiting for a response, he spun around the monitor he’d been studying for me to view. What confronted me on that TV screen appeared to be night-vision footage of a slimily threatening boss from Silent Hill. As I struggled to keep my breakfast down, there was little point resisting: the camera was stuck so far into my respiratory system that I had no chance of protesting.
The verdict is that my breathing problems are caused by a deformed septum (the middle part of my nose) and enlarged flappy-bits on the inside of my nostrils. That’s flappy-bits, the, er…. official latin term. After getting an x-ray, we had the all-clear that I don’t have any sinus problems – so I just need to get the insides of my nostrils drilled out, and a septoplasty so my septum’s straightened. HOT!
After looking at the x-ray of my skull, I couldn’t work out why it seemed so damn metal – then a mate reminded me that I was probably thinking of this Deftones album cover:
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This inspired my mate Dan to construct an impromptu Deftones album cover titled “Septoplasty” using a photo of my x-ray…
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Not only does this crack me up, it actually looks like it’d be a damn fine album!