I have been having some problems with fluid in my ears and today the doctor gave me a nasal spray to try. I am afraid of nasal sprays. I know, I know. It’s just that the thought of spraying fluid up one nostril while smooshing the other closed seems really, really scary.
Boogery liquid sloshing up my nasal passages and then careening down my throat like white water rapids just does not appeal to me. Neither does shooting medicine that burns or tingles up my nose. This is my punishment for being cruel to my husband whilst he was ill.
The doctor’s expression showed some incredulity when I disclosed my inexperience with sprays of the nasal sort. She did, however, assure me that this particular kind was very mild; there would be no nasty ejection of said spray from my mouth, no unpleasant taste, and the mist is exceedingly fine. Alrighty then. I’ll be brave. I’ll use the scary nasal spray.
When the time came for me to administer the fearful cure for all of my sinus maladies, I found myself in need of a hand to hold, some sort of emotional support. I considered my options. Little Sister was asleep and Big Brother kept running in and out of the room asking for cereal. If they witnessed me sticking something up my nose I would probably be in search of the needle nose pliers within minutes to remove some sort of entity from their nasal passages. I decided not to wait for Daddy because he would probably jump at his chance to make fun of me for being taken hostage by a smallish sort of white bottle with a ten-foot long applicator tip.
After carefully reading the instructions on “how to use this product and live to tell about it”, I took a very deep breath (possibly my last with functioning nostrils), willed my nerves to calm, tilted my head at the appropriate angle, inserted the scary tip of death into my right nostril and pumped.
My clenched eyeballs slowly opened. I hadn’t felt anything. No nasty monster had launched itself from the depths of the bottle. Did I do it right? I spritzed the other nostril. This wasn’t so bad! I have to do it every day for the next ten days? No problem.
Until tomorrow afternoon rolls around and I find that I need to psyche myself up for it all over again. Yep. There’s definitely going to be some “oh, oh, oh!” and also some cringing as my brain tells my thumb to “push up, push up, PUSH UP!” on the bottom of the bottle. Let’s not lie to ourselves.
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