As far as I can remember, I've had a problem with my nose; I've never been able to breathe properly through it and I'm constantly suffering colds, and as for the snotters! They’re beyond a joke. More recently I've become aware of an alarming degradation in my senses of smell and taste. It dismayed me when I could no longer smell that wonderful cold, metallic tang that seems to permeate Glasgow in Autumn and Winter, as I associated it with some particularly vivid sense memories.
For most of my life, I've tolerated all these problems, and the persistent feeling that there's something up there, blocking my airwaves, but this acceptance has dwindled over the last few years, for a multitude of reasons. Firstly, I took up running, cycling, and swimming in a way I’d never previously done, and I became more aware of my own breathing. Secondly, someone told me that human beings are actually supposed to breathe in through their noses. Our noses have all sorts of filters and what not that clean and optimise the air we inhale before it enters our lungs. Thirdly, I discovered a list of associated problems that can afflict us so-called 'mouthbreathers'; headaches, sinus problems, gingivitis, disrupted sleep...
Lastly, one evening I happened to be watching an episode of ‘Embarrassing Bodies’ where one of the programme’s resident doctors received treatment for nasal polyps, as they were reducing her sense of smell and affecting her breathing. My ears pricked up. Could polyps be my problem? I decided to go to arrange an appointment with my doctor and once more set out my nose woes.
For most of my life, I've tolerated all these problems, and the persistent feeling that there's something up there, blocking my airwaves, but this acceptance has dwindled over the last few years, for a multitude of reasons. Firstly, I took up running, cycling, and swimming in a way I’d never previously done, and I became more aware of my own breathing. Secondly, someone told me that human beings are actually supposed to breathe in through their noses. Our noses have all sorts of filters and what not that clean and optimise the air we inhale before it enters our lungs. Thirdly, I discovered a list of associated problems that can afflict us so-called 'mouthbreathers'; headaches, sinus problems, gingivitis, disrupted sleep...
Lastly, one evening I happened to be watching an episode of ‘Embarrassing Bodies’ where one of the programme’s resident doctors received treatment for nasal polyps, as they were reducing her sense of smell and affecting her breathing. My ears pricked up. Could polyps be my problem? I decided to go to arrange an appointment with my doctor and once more set out my nose woes.
I'd been to see a GP many years ago about my nose not working, but other than her noting that there seemed to be 'something' (very non-committal) going on, nothing came of it. My current doctor wasn't sure he could see anything of note, and prescribed me a nasal decongestant. After a few months of using the decongestant, I made a follow-up appointment to told him it had had no effect. He prescribed a stronger decongestant, and referred me to the ENT department at the local hospital. On the 7th September, I received a letter inviting me to an appointment in the Ear, Nose and Throat Department of the nearby Royal Infirmary in Glasgow, six weeks hence; a fairly rapid turnaround in my experience of specialist consultations.
In the meantime, I realised I hadn't donated platelets in a while, so I headed down to the donor centre to arrange an appointment. (Because I have O negative blood, and an abundant supply of platelets, I recently switched to donating platelets instead of whole blood.) While I was there I remembered that the Blood Transfusion Service can be a bit funny about accepting you for a donation if you have an upcoming medical appointment (doctor, dentist, etc,) so I mentioned this to the nurse. “What are you seeing the consultant about?” she asked me. “Problems with my nose,” I told her. “I think it might be polyps.” Almost off-handedly, she commented “Probably a deviated septum,” and that I should come back after I’d seen the specialist. After I left the clinic, I looked up what a deviated septum was.
Humans are supposed to have a strip of cartilage and bone running up the centre of their noses, dividing the two nostrils. This is known as the nasal septum. It’s not entirely uncommon for the septum to be somewhat crooked, but in some cases, the cartilage can deviate more severely to one side or the other (or in some cases both!), causing that nostril to become blocked. Many of the symptoms of a deviated septum are similar to those of polyps, so that gave me something to think about.
The day of the appointment was this Monday; as the Royal Infirmary is only a couple of miles or so away from my flat, I walked over, taking my camera to snap anything I saw of interest on the way. I wasn't kept waiting too long before being called into my appointment. The consultant was as consultants are quite often stereotyped in medical dramas; earnest and a little matter-of-fact. He was accompanied by a medical student, who was Welsh and had a very Welsh name. The consultant asked me a few questions about my nose and my breathing, if I had any allergies, and if either nostril was worse than the other. I replied that the right was far worse, and so he looked at that one first, with his naked eye and a flashlight. Within literally seconds, he had diagnosed a badly deviated septum that is blocking a fair amount of my right nostril.
He then took a closer look up each nostril with a fibre optic camera, which wasn't an entirely pleasant experience. That done, he confirmed his diagnosis, and informed me that, if I wished, I could undergo a minor operation to realign my septum, known as a septoplasty.
I was a little taken aback, if I'm being entirely honest. I wasn't really expecting him to say there was anything that could be done. I’d read about septoplasties after my conversation in the Blood Transfusion Service , but I suppose I had resigned myself to being told that my nose wasn't that bad, that I’d lived with it this long, and so on. I had to ask him for a little more information, then asked if I could think about it. He said of course. So I went on to work, where I mulled my decision over with my colleagues, then returned home for further reflection, and to sleep on it.
‘Operation’ is a pretty big word, both literally, and figuratively. When I was perhaps six or seven years old, my father took me up to Glasgow one day. A trip to the big city was always exciting, and I wasn't even concerned when we entered the dental hospital on Sauchiehall Street. I was taken into a room and sat in a chair, and a nice man put a mask over my face.
When I awoke, some time later, in a waiting room (not even a recovery room) I had had four milk teeth removed, and blood was gushing from my mouth. I was terrified. That to date has been my only experience of a general anaesthetic, and it wasn't particularly enjoyable. I suppose I can understand why parents didn't mention to me that I needed to have four molars removed to make room for my adult set (perhaps they did and I’d just become engrossed in some wheel trims, as I did back then.) The only other time I've had a procedure done (cyst removal under local anaesthetic) I was 15 or so, and my mother must have given consent. However, this time the consent for someone removing parts of my body with sharp implements remained solely with me. It was my decision.
I did some research into the operation online, its risks and benefits, and spoke to some friends and family that have had similar procedures. I'm not double-checking the figure for obvious reasons, but I think you're more likely to die during an operation than you are to win the lottery. My sense of smell worsening, or the surgeon failing to straighten the cartilage adequately are more likely complications. However, on balance, I decided that having the surgery would benefit me. The next day I phoned the hospital and asked to be added to the waiting list.
For much of the rest of the week, I've been wondering if I made the right decision (although I'm sure I have), and searching Google for a little more information on what’s involved in day surgery. You see, I do worry about things a bit, and it’d be nice to know every small detail in advance…I am a fan of the NHS, but it is a huge bureaucracy, and no two units/hospitals/trusts seem to do the same thing the same way. If you search for ‘septoplasty’ NHS, you’ll find a bewildering array of pdfs, docs and Power Point presentations, all saying much the same thing in slightly different ways. Will I need a pre-assessment? Will I be in hospital for one day, or overnight? Where the hell will I find a responsible adult to look after me for 24 hours? Some details are still up in the air.
Still, a least one of my questions has been answered. I received a letter in the post this morning from Gartnavel General, confirming that I've been added to their waiting list, and they guarantee that I’ll be operated on before the 12th January 2016. Just the 12 weeks to fret and worry. I'm sorry, I'm not very patient.
But I'm positive. I hope this procedure will help with the uncomfortable breathing that I've had to put up with for most of my life. I may see small improvements, but small improvements can add up.
Here’s hoping.
I’ll keep you posted.
