Friday, May 4, 2012

The Immortal Booger!

AAAAAAAAH! It's still there! It's like the evil clown in the horror movie. You were sure you got away, that he was killed when the steamroller crushed his screaming form into the cement. But somehow, like a malevolent beachball, he has reinflated himself and is now standing calmly, two feet behind you and chuckling to himself.

I visited my friend and colleague, Dr. Hygeia, supermom and Greco-Roman goddess of Otolaryngology, yesterday. She took her magic scope and looked up my nose at my exposed clivus. She saw puss and dead tissue, just like before the surgery and before the four weeks of intravenous triple antibiotics.

Schmidt! Frack! Darn! Brotherclucker! This means the antibiotics didn't do doodly-squat! Of course, in retrospect, why would they? The whole problem was that that spot gets no blood, so what would an intravenous anything do for that? On the bright side, the fact that no blood gets in means none got out to infect the rest of me, but it's only a matter of time. No one needs a seething cesspool behind their face.

"You might need another debridement," Dr. Downtown ID Guru says. "What?" I say (totally ignoring the 'might' part). "Then when does it end? You cut out the infected tissue and sand down to living bone. I go home, continue to breath on it. It dries up, gets reinfected, and we have to do it all over again in a month? Is there an endpoint? Do you want my face to end up looking like something in a funhouse mirror?"

Luckily, out here in the boondocks, Dr. Hygeia had recently visited Q, and Q has a nifty new device to nebulize (make into a cloud) antibiotics and antifungals so you can snort them through the nose like the finest Colombian. I would get less medicine with more of it going to exactly the right place. "Oh," says Dr. Downtown ID Guru, "she might be onto something!"

This might keep the infection at bay until someone invents something that will patch it permanently. Maybe I'll join the Borg!

Stay tuned. Looks like we've been approved for another season.


  1. Shit. Never a dull moment, eh?

    Thanks for the update, let us know what happens next... *hopes bone-covering flesh-compatible putty or something else science-fictiony*

    1. Yup. Oh, what I must go through for my art!

  2. Well, you did say the booger was mutant. So far it's immortal and unapproachable. Think the Columbian might desiccate it? Then you could send it to the Mutter.

    Peggy Heath

  3. Sort of, but I think I picked the wrong simile. I'm not so interested in dessicating the booger as I am in poisoning, or at least sedating it.

    True Colombian would make everything worse. It's really a better partial metaphor for late effects of radiation. Colombian devascularizes nasal tissue. You know all those sexy coke addicts walking around without a nasal septum? That's why. And I don't got one neither, although, I think the wascally surgeons took mine out.

    Anyhoo, a better metaphor is that I will be snorting Roundup for the foreseeable future. The Mutant Booger will either go to the Mutter, or wish it could. My clivus will slowly dessicate, and I will found the Lexington chapter of the Dry Clivus Club and hope for a technological miracle.

  4. One quick clarification...the Colombians may produce the stuff, but it is us who do the sniffing...CT