Neti Pot

There is so little to report on this front. I vomit. I take anti-nausea medicine. Then I sleep for many hours. I wake up with smeared mascara and bedhead. I eat. I vomit....you know, lather, rinse, repeat. Same old, same old.

I've become pretty accustomed to the whole routine by now and my staff have learned that when I walk out of my office door toward the bathrooms with my toothbrush in my hand and "that look," that they should all be really nice to me. I am blessed to work with colleagues who are empathatic in the extreme, and I came out of the restroom the other day, with my make-up smeared and a toothbrush in my hand only to find one of our nurses standing with a wet washcloth, a glass of ice water, and some crackers. I could not work for a more flexible and giving agency.

But enough about the 'ole emesis. Since I've already freaked you out with my vomitspeak, let me enlighten you on the most wondrous tool in the history of humankind. The legendary neti pot.

Now I know, when you click the link it's a little frightening, what with the blue nozzle shoved up the nice lady's nose and all, but let me tell you that as a life-long sinus sufferer, I have become a neti-pot devotee. And now that I can take absolutely NO sinus medication for the foreseeable future I am have become an apostle of the neti-pot. I am, dare I say it, a neti-pot prostitute. Lo, I remember the day when the neti-pot first came into my life, my ex-husband and I were in Washington D.C. visiting friends and happened upon a natural food store, and having read about the neti-pot in some obscure naturopathic literature which my ex-husband was often fond of reading, and being neti-pot virgins, had our first glimpse of the beloved pitcher. We took it back to our friend's home that night and poured salt water into our noses with wild abandon and never looked back. I would guess that no one else in the D.C. metro area had such clean nasal cavities that night. When we divorced, there was actually a Very Serious Talk about who should get the neti-pot. I still worry about poor K.'s sinuses.

R. is not a neti-pot devotee. He refuses to try it. He refuses to talk about it. He refuses to accept that the neti-pot is clearly the finest piece of medical technology ever invented. And I'm sure his sinuses cry every night in frustration. In fact, when I told him with glee that I was writing an entry on the neti-pot he said, "Oh, aren't the vomiting entries enough?" To which I say, "Hell, no!" And, I say it with clear sinuses and only a little bit of water dripping out of my nose.