Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Douche what?
And now, a public service announcement, because gaaaaah it’s late, I’m tired, and my brain has been topic-free all day.
That’s not entirely true. My brain kept feeding me Thursday Thirteen topics: Thirteen Yiddish insults and curses; Another Cosmo Thirteen (oh, this is going to be a good one); Thirteen Memories from Gross Anatomy. BUT IT AIN’T BLOODY THURSDAY, so thanks but no thanks, brain.
Anyway.
Let’s talk about nasal douching.
This is the product I hype to my patients: the NeilMed Sinus Rinse Kit. It’s simple. Combine the packet with the correct amount of water (distilled or filtered, ideally at body temperature), shove the nozzle up your nose, and squeeze. If it squirts out your mouth or your other nostril, you’re doing it right.
The idea — no, really, do I have to explain the benefits of douching? It’s like brushing your teeth, for the love of snot. Atomized saline may be better than nasal douching, but any wimp can put spray up their nose; it takes a REAL mensch to douche his nose. A mensch like Swami Ji:
This fellow uses a Neti pot to douche his nose. In one hole, out the other. If you click on the picture, you’ll learn that nasal douching is an ancient yogic practice — so it has to be good! From the same people who invented enemas (and if I’m not careful, I’ll spend the rest of the evening reading these enema testimonials).
Nothing wrong with Neti pots, but I prefer the forcefulness I can achieve with the NeilMed squeeze bottle. Booosh. I do it in the shower because it can be damned messy. And I only do it when my nose gives me fits; I’m not a habitual doucher.
Yes, I suppose I could call this nasal lavage or nasal irrigation, but then I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my patients’ baffled, disbelieving expressions.
He didn’t —
Did he just say . . . ?
My nose?
Yes, Miss. Your nose. What did you think I said?
D.
PS:
Did you mean to search for: Lesbian Bars and Walnuts
Don’t ask.
Hmmm… is this expensive?
The old schoolyard taunt:
“up ya nose with a rubber hose!”
sounds cheaper, and has the advantage of a greater head of pressure if forcefullness is what you’re after.
Kinkier, too.
John.
PS: But I don’t think we can do it here anyway. Current Stage 3 Water restrictions here in Melbourne, Oz prohibit irrigation with hoses.
I may start using this as an Traffic Insult.
“You nasal douche!”
I’ll have to pass on the nasal wash, thanks. A good old fashioned blow-in-a-tissue suits me just fine. But I will use phrase “douchenose” a bit more often.
If I were you, I would write all of those Thursday thirteens (especially the Yiddish insults, ya putz!) and then you only have to publish them when the time comes. Do not spurn your muse or she’ll spurn you back. Perhaps once you clear all of those out of your head, the stuff you are looking for will have a clear path.
A clearer path to go with your clearer passages.
Neti pots are actually popular among opera singers, as well as new age folks. You heard it here, first.
I still haven’t been able to use one without sputtering and getting a massive sinus headache, so maybe I will try your recommendation. Thanks, DoucheMaster!
that’s gross. ewwwwwwwww…it kinda hurts me just thinking about it. i’ll stick with my afrin and sudafed, thanks.
microsaur: the kits retail under $10.
This isn’t painful. The NeilMed folks have balanced the salinity and pH of the solution very well, so (provided you have it near body temp) the overall effect is soothing . . . once you get past that initial waterboarding terror.
No, really. Try it.
Having witnessed firsthand the quantity and omnipresence of dust[*] in India, I now have a greater understanding of and appreciation for Neti pots. Can’t say that I could ever make myself use one, but still… I came back from India with a massive sinus infection; I wish I’d known about the NeilMed kit then.
Thick, brown, ropy… Yarg. I’ll stop there.
[*]I shudder when I think of what exactly might have been in the dust.
A cheapo alternative to all of this gear or spraybottles is a plastic eyedropper (which you can get in the baby-care section of the supermarket), and mixing up some saltwater in a plastic cup, as needed, and then squirting/dripping it into your nose in the shower. (I think my usual ratio of salt to water is: a 16th of a teaspoon of koshering salt for every ounce of water; make sure the water is tepid, and that the salt dissolves well.)In my experience, getting water up your nose does hurts, but only when it’s plain water; get the temperature and salinity about right, and it’s fine.
the overall effect is soothing.
My butt.
Told Bill about this when you mentioned it to me a couple of weeks ago and he sent me out for a kit. Which he loves. I, too, have tried it, and used it, and I must inform you that it hurts like hell (I spend the whole process going ‘oh God, oh God’) a constant burning inner-face rippy twinge feeling, but once it’s done and I soak a few kleenexes clearing out the flood I can actually breathe. Which, oddly enough is sometimes worth the pain.
But not every day. I’m not that much of a sadist. Most days knowing that it’ll hurt like a bitch is too much to face.
From one of my pen pals: her husband’s ENT has him using a little contraption to clean his sinus and nose; she says it’s basically salt and baking soda and is helping a lot. I will ask if it’s this NeilMed Kit…sounds like it.
[…] Thirteen things I learned at the Sleep Disorders meeting By Walnut Every so often, I feel honor-bound to share my knowledge with you, my beloved readers. I’ve told you how to clean your ears and pick your noses; I’ve given you helpful pointers on how to reduce your risk (or your husband’s risk) of prostate cancer. I’ve taught you how to douche your noses, and I’ve helped you deal with the heartbreak of orchialgia (AKA testalgia, AKA stone ache). Today, we’ll talk about the other third of your life: sleep. […]
I gotta say, the constant laughing did me good. Love the comments, too: what a crowd you run with. I hadn’t checked in here for a while and what a hoot! heh.
A life time of wearing glasses – heavy ones when I was young – may be responsible for my narrow nostrils and so the idea of breathing freely, from both sides of my nose at once, is heaven. I just may try this. ta
It really can be a wonderful thing, Sherry. Worth trying.