On more than one occasion, I’ve blogged about breathing or my lack thereof. It is no secret that I have an uneasy relationship with my sinuses. With every passing year, I’m guaranteed at least one or two sinus infections, either glancing or full-blown. And while I love the feel of spring, the arrival of pollen always fills me with dread.
When I’m not entirely ill, I take allergy meds to make my life just a little easier. This also helps those around me, my co-workers and my loved ones, because I am cranky as hell when I’m not feeling well. Ask anybody. They’ll tell you.
Allegra-D keeps the affects of Atlanta’s air at bay (at least under normal conditions), while Flonase acts directly on my sinuses to make them relax. I take these everyday and have done so for at least as long as I’ve held a job with benefits to allow it. Before Allegra, I took Zyrtec, though it was unkind to my stomach. Before Zyrtec, I took Claritin, which worked only most of the time. Neither of those were available over-the-counter at the time, so during those periods when prescriptions weren’t available, I was not above accepting samples or even the leftovers of other’s prescriptions. When your ability to breathe normally is in question, you tend to develop the humility required to get by on the kindness of others.
Earlier this year, I was hit with what felt like a familiar cold. I stayed home from work on January 20 to try and get over, treating myself to chicken soup and news footage from the Inauguration. The next morning, I went to the doctor and had my suspicions confirmed of another sinus infection. I was prescribed a course of antibiotics and sent on my way.
A month or so later, I fell victim to another apparent sinus infection, only this time it was accompanied by a bout of conjunctivitis. I’d never experienced pink eye before and do not wish to do so again. Ever. But as before, I was prescribed another round of antibiotics and life went on.
But nothing was really helping. Not only was I dealing with the usual issues of congestion and feeling run-down, but there was this tingling in my cheek, like someone had stretched a ragged power-line between my ear and my nose. So I decided to get serious about my situation.
I’d toyed with the idea of visiting an ENT, but every time I started looking into the possibility, I found only doctors practicing in offices that seemed to emphasize corrective surgery and botox, with maybe a little ear, nose and throat maintenance on the side for good measure. It wasn’t until this past spring that I had the brilliant idea to ask around, see if anyone else I knew had a recommendation.
And they did. Thank you, Twitter. Praises be, Facebook. From two different friends, I was recommended the same doctor. So I called, got an appointment, and in early March, I went. And it’s a good thing I did.
No, my condition wasn’t life-threatening, not really. But it was early into my appointment that Dr Mickelson revealed that I was harboring a low-grade sinus infection. “Another one?,” I asked. No, actually, this was the same one that I’d had since January. It had survived not one course of antibiotics, but two. Most likely, it had also been key in dropping my immunity and making me susceptible to freaking pink eye. So I was given a 21-day course of even stronger anti-biotics, twice a day. He ordered a CT scan of my head to see just how my sinuses were built. Additionally, he recommended me to an allergist for testing, just so I’d know what my environmental enemies are.
Based on the CT scan, he said that surgery was a route I could take. Sure, I could keep taking meds every day and still risk the possibility of more sinus infections (or another long-lasting chronic infection), but surgery might help me overall.
I’ve a deviated septum that veers wide and to the right (probably from a nasty fall I took as a little kid) and my turbinates are somewhat in the way when they get angry. A septoplasty is a procedure where the septum is righted and held in place for a few days with little plastic splints. After a week, the splints are removed to allow the septum to continue healing along their new, straighter path. A rhinoplasty is where they “fix” your nose, but that is not what I am getting. Turbinate reduction is … well … reducing turbinates. Pretty straight-forward. This is all done under general anesthesia, but is out-patient, same-day surgery all the same.
And so … that’s what I’m doing on Friday morning. I go in at 8am and the surgery takes place at 9am. By noon, Nikki should be driving me back home to recuperate for a few days. I did my pre-op paperwork yesterday. Nikki ordered my prescriptions for painkillers and more antibiotics this afternoon.
Am I nervous? Sure. I’ve had lots of dental work done, gotten more than my fair share of Novocain shots, but general anesthesia is a new thing. To be honest, it kind of freaks me out when I think about it too much. It’s odd, but I think I’m more ponderous over briefly going under than I am for the pain that might await me on the recovery side.
As is my custom, I’ve researched ad infinitum. I’ve read recovery stories both good and bad, though the good seem to outnumber the bad by a wide margin. And even those who say the recovery is painful still can’t get over how much better their lives are now. And I know that my doctor is one of the most respected in his field, with a list of publications that scrolls on and on.
If I can, I’m going to blog my recovery. Of course, I might be on enough Percocet to turn sensible prose into a Burroughs-esque fever dream, but I’m willing to give it a shot. I’ve gotten so much good from reading the stories of others, so it is only right that I try to help someone else that’s considering this option.
T-minus 40 hours (or so) and counting …
(Title Inspiration: “No Nose Job” by Digital Underground)
