Blucko. I have an official case of the crud. My official self-diagnosis is a bronchitis/sinusitis combo, brought on by the public mating of all God's vegetation over the course of the past two weeks.
And so, I self-medicate. A little of this, a lot of that, hoping to find the right combination that will knock the edge off of my cough-till-I-pee-a-little crud-expelling. (Have I mentioned my affinity for the hyphen?) Today's drugs of choice include Robitussin DM and ibuprofen in addition to the daily cetirizine (Zyrtec) and Flonase (rather, its generic, manufactured by - no kidding - Hi-Tech Pharmacal).
I'm about to bite the bullet and try the much-lauded neti pot. I am a girl who greatly (overly?) appreciates the beauty of pus, that amazing combination of white blood cells, bacteria, and proteins that magically rids our bodies of many rank and raunchy invaders. I openly admit the pleasure I find in bursting big boils, popping pimples, draining abcesses and cysts... So you'd think I'd look forward to the potentially disgusting booger-ridden crud that will pour from my nostril if I find the courage to squirt saline up the other.
Here's the problem with THAT: I have always been mortified of drowning. (Thanks, momma.) I grew up at the coast, and I love the water, and I do know how to swim, but I am still a little anxious about putting myself in any situation in which I might find myself inhaling water. Know what I am saying? Why would I ever squirt volumes of water up my nose? Seems counter-intuitive to the whole breathing concept.
But I might be reaching my limit. Might give it a try.
Or I might just go see the doctor tomorrow and see what other pharmaceutical magic she has up her sleeve for me.