I Just Can't Do This!

The Lord has blessed me with a variety of abilities: I can write, I’m good at reading books instead of doing chores, I can sing on key, my cooking skills are renowned my family over, and I can make felt barrettes. My photo taking skills are decent, I’m organized, and I am very good at annoying my husband. Unfortunately, there is at least one thing that I stink at.

Ever since February, when the dreadful disease of Death and Much Ear Pain tore through our entire home, I have had non-stop problems with my ears. I find myself forced, once again, to administer a scary nasal spray. Happily, I have graduated from my intense fear of the nasal spray bottle; however, now that fear and trepidation are not clouding my mind, I find that I am incapable of using the spray properly.

According to the package directions one is supposed to tilt the head forward, insert the tip of the bottle into one nasal passage while plugging the other, and pump the collar of the bottle quickly and with determination thereby administering a mist of medical goodness.

(This whole pumping the bottle thing can be a little tricky. Twice now I have pinched my upper lip between the rim and the collar of the bottle. It not only causes my lip to hurt like the dickens, but it also makes me feel like an idiot. I mean, who does that?)

So there I stand in the middle of the kitchen floor with my head tilted forward and the plastic tube up my nose. I pump the bottle and I can smell the Astelin as it exits the bottle and soaks my nasal membranes. Within a second I also hear the sound of liquid splatting on the floor; I look down to see a glistening droplet of medicine on the linoleum. The package insert doesn’t say anything about wiping the floor after administration of the medicine, so I’m pretty sure it is supposed to stay in my nose.

I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong. I inhale the mist gently, as per the directions; I would try horking it up in there, but I am afraid that I may hurt my brain or that it may squirt out of my eyeballs. I’ve tried to use my ninja-mommy skills to pump that little bottle with a fury in order to produce the finest mist ever seen by a nasal passage, but that doesn’t seem to help either. (Not to mention I’m afraid of pinching my lip again).

I suppose I shall have to continue in my pursuit of proper nasal spray technique. I shall continue to tilt my head forward, inhale gently, and mop up the kitchen floor. I shall continue to puzzle as I feel the medicinal stream rushing out of my nose. I shall continue to taste the disagreeable flavor left behind in the back of my throat. And I shall continue to have unpleasant sensations in my ears because I cannot medicate myself properly. The end.