Sniff sniff
So the sleep specialist decided to take a gander in my nose and told me that I have polyps (stop eating right now). He gave me a script to see an ENT and I finally went last week. Good news? No polyps. Bad news? I have swollen turbinates. I don’t know what that means either.
See those pockets behind the nose? Apparently those are swollen. And not shockingly, my Central European nose has a crooked septum. How the hell have I been getting by? The inability for me to take in oxygen both sleeping and while awake explains more than you’ll ever know.
She prescribed me two prescriptions that aren’t covered by my insurance.
What?
Yes. My insurance doesn’t cover them. Hand to God I have never encountered that before. I ended up waiting two days (thanks for not calling, Riteaid!) for them to finally talk to my doctor and off I went with a horse pill better known as Allegra and some wonderful nasal spray. I hate nasal spray. It’s safe to say that I would’ve never gotten into sniffing drugs because the thought of sucking something through my nose makes me retch in anticipation. Remember the salt incident at the sleep center? Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.
We’re going to see if we’re really dealing with allergies or if I have a nasal impairment. Allergies aren’t out of the question since I had them before I got pregnant with Iain. After getting pregnant and up until recently, I haven’t had many problems being a nose breather rather than a pig of a mouth breather. So attractive. I’ve realized that in the last few months I’ve had to take decongestant to be able to breathe at night–or so I thought. Obviously I wasn’t acing that home remedy since I stop breathing just about 50% of the time I’m asleep.
What happens if it’s not allergies? Well, we could be talking surgery. It would be elective but covered under insurance because it’s functional. I asked it would change my appearance (hey, free nose job? I wouldn’t say no) but she said no. I must live with the schnoz. Eh, I’ve had it this long so I may as well make nice with it. Maybe one day I’ll share why I think my septum is crooked. It’s now a funny story. Then? Not very.
