Snot funny

Unpleasant experience today. Far more stressful, even, then taking three high-strung children under the age of five to the mall on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. For lunch. With no real game plan, or even a restraining device.

No: that was leisurely when compared to my first attempt with a Neti pot.

Over an uninterrupted four-year span of either gestating, birthing or nursing babies, I developed this weird quirk: I eschew medication whenever possible.

Drives my mother bonkers. But that's not why I do it. No, that's just a fringe benefit.

I just figured, with my own warped logic, if it's of questionable risk to take these compounds and pills when I'm growing a kiddo, then how safe is it when it's just... me?

Now, I'm not completely consistent about this philosophy: when Trey came down with strep last year, I took note of what a miserable lump he was, and went running to my doctor the instant my throat felt a little scratchy. I knew he'd toss a z-pack my way without blinking, and he didn't disappoint.

A pretty hypocritical act from the same person who rages against the overuse of antibiotics, but there you have it.

And I do recognize the blessing, the luxury I have, of being able to forego medication most of the time. Because most of the time, I'm pretty healthy. [Knock on wood.] So most of the time [knock on wood], if I come down with a little bug [knock on wood], it's nothing that some extra sleep, better hydration and steamy showers can't cure. [Knock on wood.]

So that's my feeling about this current ick, which is why I spent most of Turkey Day thudded over, under the covers. And I do feel better, much better. But my sinuses: well, I'm really sick and tired of my sinuses, and I suspect they're not too happy with me.

I can breathe, but only from one nostril, and only when I'm hopping on my left foot. Or: I'm totally congested no matter what I do or say or think. Or: I sneeze once, then spend the next half-hour camped out with a box of kleenex. And always, always, my nose is noisy. Blech.

So today seemed like the perfect opportunity to try out the nifty Neti pot I saw at Whole Foods a few weeks ago. My friend trabilcobb had given the practice rave reviews, and I'd read the testimonies of total strangers: sold, I was sold. Excited, even.

Trey eyed the whole business with skepticism and a note of anxiety tinged with humor. What if you die? he asked. I seriously doubt this will kill me, I said, but why don't you stay close, just in case?

So I read the directions for the dozenth time, warmed up the water, stirred in the non-iodized salt, poured it into the small ceramic pot and... stared at it, a little petrified.

Oh, go on, said Trey. Nothing to be scared about. Look at the picture on the box: she's smiling. She's happy! This will be fun.

Fine. Nothing to lose, everything to gain. I took a deep breath, leaned over the sink, tilted my head, gently poured warm salty water into my right nostril, and immediately began hacking and coughing and gasping for air. Aw, this sucks, I said. I can't do it.

Sure, you can, Trey said. You just have to tilt your head a little more. See? See the picture? And it says you have to put your forehead in line with your chin. Are you putting your forehead in line with your chin? Although, really, isn't your forehead naturally in line with your chin? What the heck are they driving at here?

Of course, this gave me a case of the giggles, but I decided to give it another try while Trey offered support and advice.

No, he said, you're not forming a seal. You need to form a seal! A SEAL. You know: ark ark ark. At which point he began clapping his hands together.

That did it. Now I was laughing AND drowning in lukewarm salty water of my own making. Which is, really, more fun than should be allowed on a Saturday morning while the muppers sit in the happy thrall of another episode of Max & Ruby.

I gave it a few more attempts, but they only left me with burning nostrils and a deep-seated loathing of the happy woman on the Neti pot box. Dejected, I e-mailed trabilcobb and told her of my failure. Totally without her permission, I'm copying her reply here:

Oh, to have been a fly on the wall. The Neti pot, she is tricky even without laughing. But saltwater in the nose and giggling definitely do not mix. In fact, you are not supposed to make a seal (or to be one. I can't imagine a seal would need a pot to flush its sinuses.), at least if my yoga teacher was showing us right. I think if you do it right it is supposed to go in one nostril and out the other. (I just realized I don't think I ever in my life written out the word nostril.) I pour it in and try to swish it around the sinuses while leaving the whole facial cavity open. The more I type, the more I realize I will just have to bring mine when we come up to Dallas for a visit.

I just love her. How many friends do you have who will offer a demonstration of sinus irrigation for your illumination? Not many, I'll bet.

But just between you and me, I'm seriously considering a late-night run to Walgreens.