It’s Sunday night insomnia.
… I had my annual physical and walked out with orders for blood work, a mammogram, a CT scan of my sinuses, and a referral to an ENT doctor.
… Blood work showed I have really low iron and need supplements, but this may be a factor in the monthly headaches that render me utterly useless for three days. Though I won’t know for a few more weeks if the added iron will have any effect. Here’s hoping.
… I’m not concerned about the mammogram, as it’s now just a part of the annual fun because family history dictates the smashing of boobs under age 40. It hurts like a sonofabitch, but the whole appointment takes ten minutes and somehow having a strange woman handling my naked boobs is pretty low on the stress and anxiety scale for me. Go figure.
… The CT scan and ENT doctor told me that my sinuses and ears are 100% normal, but I have a deviated septum. This is (most likely) the cause of my decades long struggle with sinus problems. Now I get to decide if and when I want to have surgery to correct the problem and have the possibility of being able to breathe properly through my nose for the first time…ever? I’ve decided the if—yes I will—but I need to figure out the when. Which means scheduling the surgery. Which means anxiety. Because surgery. And phone calls. And ME.
… The ENT doctor told me most people don’t even know how they ended up with a deviated septum—some are born with it, some are the result of injury. I told him my theory and he told me I was probably right. Pretty much every single year in gym class I took a basketball to the face (and usually a volleyball too) because I went to school with a whole herd of assholes. I really don’t miss those people.
… During the ENT appointment, for the hell of it I brought up the gaddamn Phantom Smoke Stench. I really didn’t expect an answer, but he actually called it by name—Phantosmia—and told me that since I had the MRI and EEGs that reported my brain is 100% normal, it’s a sensory issue that there is no fix for. Most people only experience it for a short amount of time—not years like I’ve been dealing with—usually after illness or injury. Maybe someday I won’t smell it anymore. But I won’t hold my breath. (Because I’ll be able to breathe properly through my nose! I hope. I really hope.)
… Life. Cripes.
My nose angles to the right and my nostrils are very lopsided and there are EIGHT light bulbs in my bathroom and that is highly unnecessary.