There's Nose Business Like Nose Business!

There’s Nose Business Like Nose Business


WARNING!!!! This Blog contains descriptions of graphic, bloody, gory, and otherwise disgusting stuff. Don’t read it if you get queasy. If, on the other hand, you read it and yak, I will take some satisfaction in my ability to graphically portray grossness. Let me know.



Man, why didn’t somebody slap me? I wrote blogs on my previous nose surgery. You’d think that I would read those blogs and steer clear, wouldn’t you? No. Not me. Macho nose guy that I am. I voluntarily entered into the Ear, Nose and Throat specialist for yet another nefarious nasal misadventure!

Why did I first have my septum redone? Cause I couldn’t breath through the old schnozz. Well, shortly after my septumology (or something like that), I found that I still couldn’t breath. I still had to drown my sinuses in nasal spray just to breath through my newly sculpted septum.

I go back to the specialist and he reminded me that he told me that my turbinates were bad and that we might have to do that after my septum surgery. He was right. He told me that right before I went under the knife the first time. Great. Turbinate-ectomy. What the heck is a turbinate anyway?

Not to worry, he says. Simple. We sonically fry the mucus membranes surrounding the turbinates and BAM!!! you can breath again. ( I couldn’t tell if he sounded more like Emerill or John Madden). Super. It’s just like microwaving my nose. Can’t wait.

How come my many friends didn’t step up and slap me silly. Wake me up. C’mon guys, I needed some help. But no. There is no one so lonely as the guy facing the turbinate-ectomy.

I showed up, nose in hand. What do I see first? A six inch long needle! That’s simply the long skinny needle part of the medieval torture device. Guess where that sucker went? Right. Up my nose. The doc tells me to make a motion when the needle goes into the back of my throat and I can feel the novacaine dibbling down the back of my throat. Does it get any better than that? My “motion” resembles the dying gasp of a bad actor in a grade B detective movie. The doc gets my signal and backs the needle out of the inner recesses of my head. What happens then?

Blood. Lots of blood. As the needle slipped out of my nose, a four-foot spurt of blood shoots out of my nose and hits the wall beside me! Of course, large amounts of blood also flowed out of my nose and onto my face, hands, and clothes. The doc yells. “This has never happened before!” he says. Seeing as how he has practiced medicine for about fifty years, that’s saying something.

There I sat. Blood in hand. Blood in face. Blood in clothes. Oh, yea. My nose was numb, too. What a beautiful sight I was.

Now that half of my nose was numb, all that was left was to fry the mucous membranes of my nose. The doc takes a blue patch with wires hanging off of it and tells me to lift up my shirt. He needs to put this “ground patch” on my back to keep from electrocuting me. He lifts up my shirt and announces that he’s found Sesquatch. I didn’t even know he was a comedian.

Grounded, numb, and bloody. I was ready. Fry away, baby. The little sonic frying device even dinged when it was done, just like a microwave. Three times he fried me, one for each turbinate. Each time, blood would gush out of my nose when he removed the probe. Yet relief was not to be mine. There was still the other side. Another six inch long needle foray to the back of my throat. Another three sonic frying events. You get the message.

Listen. Breathing well probably isn’t worth it. Next time, somebody hit me. But, just in case, don’t hit me in the nose!!!!

Blawgerman