Pinch, or Pull? 4/3/10

My nose was the only part of my body that ran yesterday. It ran all day long-thereby showing great endurance. It threw in a few intervals for variety-picking up the pace whenever I wasn't near a tissue box.

While I was in the throes of this Snotathon, a customer came up to me at work and said that she had noticed that I was somewhat congested. (It must have caught her attention that my sinuses had swollen to thrice their normal sizes, giving me the appearance of a hard-core Botox abuser.) She introduced herself as a massage and acupuncture therapist. She said that she'd had success treating her patients' allergies by inserting needles into their fingertips. Really? "Under the nails," I asked, thinking that she might be practicing a form of Pain Relocation Therapy. She answered "No" in a way that indicated she might be getting ready to skewer my eyeballs.

By placing them just so, toward the fingertips, the therapist could intercept the messages my brain was sending to my sinuses. "But, would I have to leave the needles in all month to keep the allergies at bay," I asked, this time covering both eyes with my hands. The needles were not absolutely necessary, she hissed, patiently, merely pinching the fingertips would produce the desired result. So, I don't need the ten tetanus injections to bring about a sniffle-free existence? (I only thought this sentence, not even projecting it toward her.)

I immediately set upon this course of therapy, right in front of the kindly, yet dangerously well-trained in the use of sharp rusty objects, savior of my schnoz. It was hard to believe that it could be so simple. I thought that I must have been dreaming. I needed someone to pinch me.

I pinched, sometimes squeezing, but never for very long, because I had to constantly switch fingers from pinched, to pinchee. Some pinches were so hard that I cried out for my mother to help me beat up the kid who was hurting me. Some, on the other hand, were so soft that they barely met the definition-they were more like nips. I pinched every finger seven times seven times, but still the snot kept coming. I became frustrated, then angry, until finally, I became downright snotty. I suggested a different methodology, "What if I just put my fingers up my nose? I bet that would stop it from running." She was not mellow in responding, and I have the bruised liver to prove it.

From now on, no more New Age remedies for me. I'll stick to the traditional, tried and true methods for combating allergies. Like, medicines that don't work. And lying in bed for eight hours a day. And hoping the trees stop blooming, and the wind stops blowing. Yeah, that's more realistic than pinching your fingers.

Thanks for humoring me.