Member since:
January 27, 2006

The Ineffable Chagrin of My Maxillary Sinus

April 18, 2006 12:08 AM EDT (Updated: April 18, 2006 12:09 AM EDT)

views: 61 | comments: 30

Like many women, I suffer from "poor body image." I've learned to accept my middle aged upper arms, 4 foot eleven and a half inch tall frame, and feet that I'm sure somehow link me genetically to Barney Rubble. No, the focus of my ineffable chagrin is, sadly, my Maxillary Sinus cavity.

Over the years, this seemingly mild mannered body part has wrought me no end of embarrassment and consternation. As a child, I was afflicted with "laugh-snort-laugh" syndrome. If something funny happened in class, chances were that my giggles punctuated by honks of mirth would whip my fellow students into an absolute frenzy of laughter. Nuns tended not to take kindly to this type of LEVITY in parochial school. I made more than one trip to the principal's office in hopes that SHE could help me to "laugh like a lady."

You would think that possessing a sinus cavity with bellowing tendancies might prove helpful, say in a head cold situation. Surely there would be additional velocity assisting in the entire clearing of the nasal passageway procedure. More force = less blockage, right? WRONG. Extra large Maxillary Sinuses merely increase the VOLUME of this activity. Entire flocks of geese were led off course in the spring of 1982. Apparently, I had unwittingly managed to reproduce one humdinger of a mating call during that year's sinusitus attack.

I won't even get into the damage dollars I've forked out after close range sneezes in gift shops.

While this freakish feature has at some point touched almost every aspect of my life - the most embarrassing moments have occurred while working.

The first such incident took place when I was a single mother waitressing graveyard shift at a local coffee shop. I had spent the day surfing with my daughter's godparents. It had been a few years since I'd been out on a board. As a result, I'd spent more time falling off and retrieving my ride rather than actually standing on it. The afternoon had been great fun though - a treat that I didn't get to indulge in often enough during those hectic days.

That evening, I learned just how much seawater my Mammoth Maxillary Sinus could hold. While serving a group of senior citizens, I leaned over to place a bowl of soup on the table. To my horror, a steady stream of saltwater escaped from my left nostril directly into the corn chowder as I was bent over.

The soup's owner screamed.
I screamed.
The other seniors at the table screamed.
I screamed again.

Ten minutes later, my boss was REALLY SCREAMING, as she informed me that I was not only out of a job, but would have that meal docked from my last paycheck.

Fast forward fifteen years later. I have a 'big girl job" now, working as a contract administrator for a medical manufacturer. I'm attending one of those regional sales meetings which are MANDATORY, and filled with people I only see once or twice a year. Amongst the attendees are some very big shirts, one of whom holds the approval/veto power for team members who will work on a project I'm dying to be a part of. I walk over, shake hands with him and laugh EVER SO GENTLY when he makes a witty remark.

It's no good - the Maxillary Sinus has a mind of its own. This time it's much worse than a snort. A mucous bubble resembling the air sack of a large bullfrog inflates from my right nostril, and then in a split second, deflates. (Mercifully, it did not POP.) The gentleman whom I'd hoped to so impress with my smarts and charm takes an involuntary step back at this display - but to his credit, keeps talking never missing a beat. A moment later he spots an IT technician WITH A POCKET PROTECTOR entering and waves him down, excusing himself from the mucous airbag danger zone which I am clearly queen of.

I didn't get the project, but there were favorable notes at my review regarding "undaunted optimism in the face of adverse conditions."

I've learned to count my blessings daily that my husband finds all of this "endearing." This feature seems to have bypassed my offspring, but I shudder to think that it may surface again in the next generation.

I don't know if I'll ever make peace with this unnatural condition. I can only hope that as I grow older it will cease to be quite such a powerful source of ineffable chagrin.

view all photos

You need the latest Adobe Flash Player.
Install the player now