The original offending apendage-- she don't look too bad, does she?10 days ago I went to an Instacare place with what I thought was swimmer’s ear. The complete ABSURDITY of what has followed is staggering.
1) Dr. Rush Job says I have a torn eardrum. Prescribes ear drops. NO SCUBA FOR YOU!
2) Otolaryngologist [ear, nose, and throat guy] says I just, essentially, bruised my middle ear. Prescribes NOSE drops. NO SCUBA FOR YOU… this week, anyway.
a. Same specialist, same visit (let’s call him Dr. Duck) says the Eustachian tubes aren’t working right on the ear that DIDN’T cause me grief. Prescribes follow up visit the following week.
b. Same Duck, same visit, sends me to the audiologist to test Eustachian tubes, and, WHILE WE’RE AT IT, do a hearing check.
c. Audiologist says he thinks I have otosclerosis. I find out later this is a big deal and can lead to deafness. This is NOT related in any way to swimmer’s ear, or to whether or not I can dive again.
3) Have character-defining moment trying to come to terms with having otosclerosis. Do some reading and decide it’s a pretty hasty judgment and I’m not sure I buy it. New character-defining attribute: shoulder shrug.
4) Faithfully snort nasal spray for a week, even though it’s nasty (a lady does not snort ANYTHING).
5) Go to Dr. Duck for follow up visit.
a. Eustachian tubes retested. Still retarded. Doctor shrugs. SCUBA FOR YOU… but be careful. I figure that’s it, right? Wrong.
b. Doctor recommends snorting salt water twice a day to clear sinuses. I didn’t know my sinuses needed to be cleared. I tell him this sounds unpleasant and I am “unlikely” to do it unless he gives me a compelling reason. He says I’ll be able to smell better, and we live in the desert so it’s just a good idea. Say what??? NOT compelling.
c. Have new character-defining moment: actually think that if God had wanted me to snort salt-water, I’d be a fish, not a HUMAN BEING. [Of course, by this logic I wouldn't be strapping condensed air to my back and fins to my feet, either]
d. Doctor looks up my nose (remember, I figure I’m done here). I have a deviated septum, he says. I know where this is going.
“Do you snore?”
“Not that I know of.”
“How do you sleep?”
“Like a rock.”
[grasping, at this point] “Ever get sinus infections?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Well, we can do an outpatient surgery to correct the deviated septum, and take care of those big tonsils while we’re at it.”
e. URCH. Big tonsils? Remove them because they are big? THAT makes sense.
f. I start gathering my things… quickly, before he finds something else to charge me for.
g. I realize he has no intention of dealing with my original complaint (ears clearing for scuba), but that he HAS managed to freak me out about my hearing, insult my tonsils (okay, not really, but righteous indignation is fun), and he wants to operate on my nose for no apparent reason.
h. I realize that an otolaryngologist is an ear, nose, and throat specialist, and that my throat may be next. What else can he find?
6) I run screaming from the scene.
1) Dr. Rush Job says I have a torn eardrum. Prescribes ear drops. NO SCUBA FOR YOU!
2) Otolaryngologist [ear, nose, and throat guy] says I just, essentially, bruised my middle ear. Prescribes NOSE drops. NO SCUBA FOR YOU… this week, anyway.
a. Same specialist, same visit (let’s call him Dr. Duck) says the Eustachian tubes aren’t working right on the ear that DIDN’T cause me grief. Prescribes follow up visit the following week.
b. Same Duck, same visit, sends me to the audiologist to test Eustachian tubes, and, WHILE WE’RE AT IT, do a hearing check.
c. Audiologist says he thinks I have otosclerosis. I find out later this is a big deal and can lead to deafness. This is NOT related in any way to swimmer’s ear, or to whether or not I can dive again.
3) Have character-defining moment trying to come to terms with having otosclerosis. Do some reading and decide it’s a pretty hasty judgment and I’m not sure I buy it. New character-defining attribute: shoulder shrug.
4) Faithfully snort nasal spray for a week, even though it’s nasty (a lady does not snort ANYTHING).
5) Go to Dr. Duck for follow up visit.
a. Eustachian tubes retested. Still retarded. Doctor shrugs. SCUBA FOR YOU… but be careful. I figure that’s it, right? Wrong.
b. Doctor recommends snorting salt water twice a day to clear sinuses. I didn’t know my sinuses needed to be cleared. I tell him this sounds unpleasant and I am “unlikely” to do it unless he gives me a compelling reason. He says I’ll be able to smell better, and we live in the desert so it’s just a good idea. Say what??? NOT compelling.
c. Have new character-defining moment: actually think that if God had wanted me to snort salt-water, I’d be a fish, not a HUMAN BEING. [Of course, by this logic I wouldn't be strapping condensed air to my back and fins to my feet, either]
d. Doctor looks up my nose (remember, I figure I’m done here). I have a deviated septum, he says. I know where this is going.
“Do you snore?”
“Not that I know of.”
“How do you sleep?”
“Like a rock.”
[grasping, at this point] “Ever get sinus infections?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Well, we can do an outpatient surgery to correct the deviated septum, and take care of those big tonsils while we’re at it.”
e. URCH. Big tonsils? Remove them because they are big? THAT makes sense.
f. I start gathering my things… quickly, before he finds something else to charge me for.
g. I realize he has no intention of dealing with my original complaint (ears clearing for scuba), but that he HAS managed to freak me out about my hearing, insult my tonsils (okay, not really, but righteous indignation is fun), and he wants to operate on my nose for no apparent reason.
h. I realize that an otolaryngologist is an ear, nose, and throat specialist, and that my throat may be next. What else can he find?
6) I run screaming from the scene.
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