As some of you know, I’ve been fighting sinus “stuff” off and on for the last few years. A lot of it I’ve blamed on the boy, since he’s a card-carrying member of the Microbe of the Week Club (comes with going to school). But this year has been particularly brutal; on many days, I’ve considered paying someone to pick up a cordless drill and put a hole in my forehead to ease the pressure. Some people were willing to do it for free, but I digress.
After trying three or four (who’s counting) different rounds of antibiotics with no results, my doctor referred me to an ENT. After a hearing test, a few questions, and a peek in my ears and nose, I walked out of my first visit hearing three things I really hadn’t anticipated: deviated septum, CT scan and TMJ.
So before we could get too carried away with what else is going on in there, we schedule the CT scan. I think my tweets from the morning describe it pretty well:
Deviated septum, and some generally odd “architecture” going on my head – something that has most likely been there for a very long time. The CT was done at the ENT’s office, and I met with him immediately after it was one (which was handy). You know you’re in for fun when the doctor starts the conversation with “I’m glad we had the CT done, because there were a few things in there I wasn’t expecting to see.”
I get the photo tour of my noodle, so I can see my deviated septum and the various other things going on in there. The word “surgery” has now crept into the discussion, as he’s telling me “we can go in there and do this and this, yada, yada” – my brain kind of fogged at “go in there”. I’ve heard tales of sinus surgery from others. I’ve seen the immediate aftermath of a few of them. Not pretty at all. And then there’s the “blood clot thing” – that part where my hematologist tells me she wants to know any time sharp instruments are involved. Then I get the part of the discussion that talks about the risks of doing sinus surgery, and all of the things that “could” go sideways during the excavation. We schedule a date for surgery for late June. That functional part of my head above the ill-functioning sinus cavities is now running at full speed, hovering somewhere between DEFCON 4 and 5.
And then he says, “I think we’ve also got some allergy things working in there too – let’s do an allergy test, so we can have as much info as possible before we start climbing around in there.”
My brain said “what a fabulous idea.”
Nine days later I go in for the allergy test, also in the ENT’s office (I’m beginning to think this is a racket). I come in, lay down on my stomach (BlackBerry in hand, of course) and they put the allergens in the pattern on my back. Again, I refer to my “thoughts of the moment”:
The full rundown of the things for which I tested positive – grasses (all of them), ragweed, three tree families (oak, maple and alder), mixed feathers. Grasses and oak trees were the real big winners in this test, with grasses showing a really strong reaction (hence the allergist’s comments).
Let’s see – grass is everywhere, ragweed is a real treat in the late summer, I live in a forest and my charming and delightful wife sleeps on a feather pillow.
I found this October 2009 picture of my back yard. I thought it would be amusing to identify the offending trees. Pretty funny, isn’t it?
The worst part is that this is just the immediate back yard – the front and side yard are more densely populated with my enemies. If I had to guess, the woods at Pug Hollow is probably 25% oak, 20% beech (part of the oak family), 20% ash, 10% maple, 10 % hickory and the rest being walnut, hackberry and whatever the hell else is growing out there.
Yes, Pug Hollow is trying to kill me. Honestly, though, I’m kind of relieved to actually know what’s causing me grief. I’ve made mention to Cathy that it seems every year gets worse, and I don’t remember having these problems at the old house.
I’ve been paying a lot closer attention to conditions when I feel like my sinuses are acting up, and I read the daily pollen forecast on the The Weather Channel site. For the latter half of May and the early part of June, they’ve looked like this – and I’ve felt it. I never really noticed how much stuff gets launched into the air when I cut the grass, but I do now – and it’s a lot. Frankly, it’s no wonder I’m always packed up.
So while I know that I’m “not right in the head”, I broke the news to the ENT yesterday that I think there are other things I can do before we get all crazy and start rearranging the furniture in my sinuses. The best way for me to not have post-op complications is to not have the “op” in the first place. I think I’ll try finding ways to reduce the swelling/irritation in my sinuses so that I might breathe a little easier, rather than going the RotoRooter path. That option will always be available, so for now it will be the last resort.
I’ll wear a mask when I cut the grass, along with my ear protection. I know I’ll look like an idiot, but really don’t care. Hell, I’ll wear a full hazmat suit if necessary. And while I don’t like doing it, I’m getting more comfortable with nasal sprays and rinses. Immunotherapy is Plan B. We can be more diligent about cleaning the house and washing clothes, so enemy pollen isn’t floating around. And yes, Cathy has offered to surrender her feather pillow for the good of the cause (albeit grudgingly).
I love where I live, because of the woods. I’m not going anywhere. I’m just going to have to find a way to fight back so I can continue to enjoy the outdoors, despite the fact that most of what’s out there is not my friend.
Better living through chemistry, I say.