I Have a...(gulp) Deviated Septum!

Hi. My name's Stuart and I have a deviated septum.

Greek chorus: Hi Stuart!

Not too long ago, my wife said, "I think you have a deviated septum."

My first response? "Well, thanks a lot! Rude!"

Honestly, I had no idea what it was. But just say it out loud. Go on, do it. I'll wait.

See what I mean? It sounds like I should be on the sexual offenders list or something. I suppose I should go door to door in the 'hood and introduce myself and tell everybody that it's part of my parole requirements to let them know about my deviancy.

Let's take a minute and break the term down. "Deviated" is derived from "deviant," which of course mutated from the ancient Greek term, "deviantus." And we all know what a deviant is, right? According to that know-it-all Webster...

...it means "departing from usual or accepted standards, especially in social or sexual situations."

Yow!

"Septum," of course, comes from a body part that was frequently used in Roman orgies ("Septumus"), later morphing into "Septic," and everyone understands what septic tanks are used for. (Of course, I'm going wildly on speculation here, but whatever; if major "news" outlets can make up stuff, so can I.)

So, putting what we've learned here together, apparently I suffer from a perverted posterior.

"I do not have a perverted arse!" I said, rather defensively.

My wife (who suffers no fool, which is odd she likes me) set me straight.  A deviated septum occurs when your nasal septum is significantly displaced to one side, making one nasal air passage smaller than the other. 

"Oh," I said.

It all makes sense now. I guess. It explains why my Covid mask nose clenchy thing is always swayed to one side. I suppose it might lend some explanation as to why I snore on my right side, but not my left.

Naturally, my dentist had to throw in her two cents. "Hmmmm," she says.

"'Hmmmm?' What's 'hmmmm?' Don't 'hmmmm' me when I've got tubes and your fingers in my mouth! Level with me, Doc! Are my teeth falling out??? What fresh hell does 'hmmmm' mean???"

(Of course this all came out as "Mmmm? Wha mmmm? Nah mmmm ee en ah gah uuh ah yah eeee..." Dentists always want to chat when your mouth is stuffed with fingers, tubes, and tools.)

"I believe you might have sleep apnea. I'm seeing signs of it."

So, I go in for a six-month check-up, and suddenly I'm leaving with this bagful of apparatus that I have to plug into my nose and strap over my head, chest and fingers. And supposedly sleep with.

"That'll be $400, Mr. West."

"What??? But...but...I didn't have any cavities! My insurance is supposed to pay--"

"We'll see you tomorrow."

As expected, I couldn't sleep, nothing new there. But this went the extra mile. I felt like a cyborg with all kinds of unnatural new add-ons not conducive for a peaceful night's slumber. I logged in maybe one hour tops.

After a month of not hearing from them, I gave the dentist's office a call. 

"Oh, sorry," says the dentist two days later, "I guess I missed the email. It looks like you have mild sleep apnea. We can hook you up with a device...let's see, it'll run about $2,500."

"$2,500! Because I snore? I can't afford that! That's crazy! I just wanted to get my teeth cleaned! Besides, I snore because I have a devia--"

"Um, there's no need to tell me about your personal life, Mr. West." (Okay, she didn't really say that, but I call it "taking artistic liberties." Sounds much better than lying.) "I would really recommend you get the device. Unfortunately, insurance won't cover it."

"$2,500!"

"That's correct."

"You do know that the results probably aren't correct, right?" I explain. "I mean, really, I only slept an hour. You understand that, right?"

A rattle of paper. "The report says here...that you have mild sleep apnea."

I knew she wouldn't listen. So, I decided to at least hear her out. "Okay, how intrusive is this device? I couldn't even sleep with the stupid test equipment on."

"Well, it's two pieces. The lower piece juts out your lower jaw."

"What??? I'd never be able to sleep with that! It sounds tantamount to torture!"

Long silence. Very long silence. "It's true some people can't sleep with it. But I would recommend you try it."

"$2,500 is a lotta green to throw down on an experiment I know I'll fail, " I say.

"I would recommend it."

Of course you would. "How 'bout I just lose some weight to stop my snoring?"

"I suppose that might help," she says, clearly doubtful that I can accomplish that goal.

"Well, how's that gizmo gonna fix my deviated septum, which is probably why I snore?"

"Mr. West, really...if you're going to talk like this, I'm hanging up now."

We went back and forth for some time, neither one of us coming to a settlement. Fighting dentists is harder than battling lawyers. I'm not sure who charges more either.

The moral of the story is never get a deviated septum.

Speaking of everything deviant, there's quite a few deviants running throughout the Dandy Drop Inn bed and breakfast. Maybe even some serial killer(s). But you'll have to check in to find out what I'm talking about. I understand their peach cobbler is just to die for! That's Dread and Breakfast, definitely (not) recommended by Oprah!