Because, really, how many people want to read about someone’s vasomotor rhinitis?
All my life, I’ve had lousy sinuses. I cannot remember a time when I didn’t have to have a box of Kleenex next to my bed. In middle school, I took so much Dristan that it stopped working. For decades. In high school I started taking the first of any number of steroid nasal sprays.
Allergy tests always came up negative. (“You’re mildly allergic to pet dander, mold, dust mites, and Johnson grass, but not enough to warrant shots.”) X-rays showed nothing that could really be improved by surgery. At least in grad school I had plenty of company; everyone I knew kept a box of Kleenex next to the door, because chances were good that a visitor would need a Kleenex even before they could say hello. Apparently Williamsburg, Virginia, kills everyone’s sinuses.
A couple of months ago I had a CT scan and a consultation with an ENT specialist. I’m in a “grey area” regarding surgery. A couple of weeks ago I saw an allergist, who said, “Well, you don’t have allergies” and repeated the vasomotor rhinitis diagnosis I got from an Army doctor 30 years ago.
That’s right, my sinus problems are caused by the weather. Thanks a lot, weather. It’s probably good that I’m not Ororo Munroe, because instead of being a powerful and largely benevolent member of the X-Men, I’d just use my powers of weather control to make my sinus problems more manageable.
So, if I don’t have allergies and it’s not bad enough to mandate surgery, how bad is it? Well, let me put it this way. Before Baguette was born, I was on an Internet forum where someone posed the question, “Is there anything you don’t want your baby to inherit from either of you?”
It took me about one second to type in: sinuses.