Good night. As in, Good evening. NOT as in, Good Night!, you have got to be kidding me! And NOT as in Good night, sleep tight, although that would probably be appropriate for all of you, but certainly not for me as I stay up 'til dawn. But since it's now night and the evening, which was QUITE eventful, has long waned, I say to you, Good night, such a charming night to make your acquaintance.

I DO want to thank you for reading this mess of a blog. Also, after consultation, I'm told it would be appropriate to mention to you that it is fine with me, welcome, actually, if you want to pass this drivel along to any of your friends who might not have enough twaddle in their lives. How about that? TWADDLE. This is a brand new word for me. Has anyone ever heard of this word, or is it just I who is a total ignoramus? I found twaddle because I had to look up drivel in the dictionary, to make sure I spelled it correctly. Now that I'm blogging, I don't want to continue to spell like Martha Washington, who I understand was a very poor speller and mainly sounded out words to determine their spelling, at which I'm figuring she wasn't so hot. She has been my model, lo, these many years. I figured if bad spelling was good enough for Martha Washington, it is good enough for me. I have a dear friend who insists that she is L-A-Z-Y, even though she is in the upper echelon of busy wives/mothers/homemakers/homeschoolers/mothers-of-the-bride/volunteers/perfect spellers/you name it. I have no earthly clue why she considers herself L-A-Z-Y. She is NOT. Overwhelmed at times, maybe, but L-A-Z-Y, NEVER. So, I decided to demonstrate to her a REAL meaning of L-A-Z-Y and thus never check my spelling in my emails to her. It's been quite interesting, because, like I've said, creating new spellings is FUN. But now I have to be a savvy, serious little blogger, and the dictionary and I are holding sweet little tea parties together lately. A dictionary is quite a chummy friend, really. Back to TWADDLE. In case you are, which I doubt, as ignorant as I, it means . . . drivel. And together they mean, "silly, meaningless or tedious talk, thinking or writing" (Webster). In a word, "NONSENSE" (also Webster). In more words, "a foolish waster, childish and idiotic" (Webster again). Oh, and while we're at it, it also means PRATE, which flatteringly means "to talk excessively and pointlessly: babble. To utter in empty or foolish talk." (Webster, of course). I'm afraid I am guilty on all counts because the definitions seem to focus on talking and I've been told I write like I talk, so, wowsers, can this be GOOD? Well, I guess we all need in our lives a little driveling, twaddling PRATTLE, "to talk in a simple-minded way, chatter" (hey, that's the mildest description yet, whew - Webster, who else). I mean, I do need mindless, 'cause life can be so SERIOUS sometimes. So, go ahead and share this with your friends, if you dare. And thanks, if you do :))

Okay, the above paragraph was supposed to be about two sentences. I just don't know what happens. I take no responsibility for it :-- Just kidding.

I had things to tell you tonight, but now I must tell you other things instead. This is a FORCED change of blog, because sometimes the timing in life is just too exquisite, and one MUST step aside and behold the beauty. Except in this case it's unmitigated HIDEOSITY. Restated, what follows could ONLY happen to yours truly. And it's going to start up my migraine again, in conjunction with the nightmares I'll be having all morning (morningmares?), 'cause that's when I sleep.

Some of you know I have SUFFERED ungladly with severe sinus problems for, to wear a thin cliche thinner, lo, these many years. I am currently undergoing evaluations/treatments with an ENT involving CT scans and heavy meds. If the meds don't knock out the infection, even though they've about knocked me out in general, I may require sinus surgery . . . again. Oh, joy. TOMORROW I am going for a high-resolution CT scan to find out what's what. So, here is the kicker. TODAY I was cruising about AOL, since you won't let me read the newspaper anymore, and what do they display as a feature story, for TODAY? Here's what:

"SINUS INFECTION ALMOST DEADLY - ALMOST DESTROYS WOMAN'S FACE."

Do you think that snapped me to attention in a flat-out 1/10th of a second?? You know it. I went on to read the whole article and ensuing comments. I unearthed little gems like, "Sue's cheek got so swollen it burst, leaving a crater," and "How routine sinus problem turns serious" (see, I TOLD you life was SERIOUS). Then guess what? I found out that this poor Sue was EXACTLY MY SAME AGE when her face blew out. Are you even believing this? By now I'm hyperventilating, because I've seen the scan of my sinus, the one that made my doc put me on the Big Time steroids, etc. Oh, did I mention Sue was on Big Time steroids, too? Human cheek and forehead sinus cavities are large, like eggstra large eggs large or something, you'd be surprised, I was. They are supposed to be lovely, cavernous vacuums, merrily doing their little thing without interference. Me? My whole right sinus cavity, minus a space the size of a man's shirt button in the center, is filled with inflamed sinus lining. It's a wonder to behold, let me tell you. AND NO WONDER I feel like incredible crud my whole life long -- BECAUSE my head plumbing DOESN'T WORK RIGHT. Doc said, You have a sinus infection right now. I said, I DO? Because I honestly didn't think I did. I USED to know when I had an infection, but apparently my body has "become accustomed to my face" being filled with, to attempt delicateness, unpleasantness. The effect of all this is my immune threshold/wellness standards have just hit the scum of the bucket. So, the article goes on to tell me that Sue is still alive, you can watch a little video of her to prove it. Her doctors wanted to remove her whole cheek, even up around the eye socket, but she refused, which turned out to be the right decision, yes, Sue! Instead, she had "30 surgeries to remove bits of infection/tissue at a time, 60 visits to a hyperbaric chamber, extensive work on her upper jawbone and palate, which the sinus infection had basically eaten away." She, of course, had a weakened immune system, probably from all the antibiotics she'd been taking, ding-a-ling-a-ling, I LIVE on antibiotics. In fact, GAD gave me probiotics for my birthday to counteract the antibios. Poor Sue's body couldn't fight off the fungus and, at the risk of shutting down my blog permanently due to zero readership, because when you read this, you will be repulsed forevermore and never click on Living Dust again, ever, my doc wonders if I might have a FUNGUS BALL (FB hereon out, because typing those two dreadful words once was once too many. Perhaps "fungus" and "ball" used independently of each other would be passable, but joining them as a unit, I can no handle, I am outta here). My face fell on the floor when he told me that, because I can hardly imagine anything grosser, unless he tells me maggots are feasting on my FB. But then when he stuck the horrible little telescope up my sinus, he said he didn't really see any old FB. I hope he wasn't just saying that because he determined he had an emotionally fragile, disturbed nutcase patient on his hands. I SINCERELY hope he really didn't see a FB. But what if there IS a FB tucked up high in the secret regions and the naked eye can't find it but the scan will?? He quickly addressed my horror, bless him, by assuring me that I am not a gross, unclean person if I have a FB (I almost felt compelled to tell him, But wait, I am a Detailer, I clean the molding with soaked Q-tips). He said that EVERYONE (that means YOU) has fungus (just made your day, didn't I?) but the NORMAL person can manage a little everyday fungus by swishing it away with their properly functioning microscopic sinus sweepers while poor KEM is all broken down and CANNOT swish, and that's why things go crazy, and she is just UNLUCKY enough to have taken up permanent abode in Sinus City. Don't ever go there, not even to visit. Sue was diagnosed with Mucormycosis, which is merely the bone eating, flesh eating infection mentioned above. I'm striking the letter "M" from my alphabet when I go see the doc on Wednesday to read TOMORROW'S, Tuesday's, scan. So, this poor, dear Sue went through ALL KINDS of torture including not eating or sleeping and having to wear a fake palate, held in place with magnets, hope you didn't read that maggots, which was an improvement over the first fake palate, which she held in place with her tongue. And two years later she can eat only soft food. I, who am a legit sinus basket case, cannot even imagine Sue's intense agony. But she is miraculously here with us today and looks REALLY GOOD. Not only that, she has a FABULOUS attitude and is THANKFUL that because of her case doctors have developed new procedures for sinus sufferers. WOW!!!!!!!!!!! I am floating-out-of-my-socks-impressed because my response to my sinus, when it's bad enough, which is more times than I care to remember, is to simply ball my little eyes out. Hey, do you think the tears would somehow flush out the FB? It's probably too big, I picture it the size of a beach ball, the texture of one, too, with a little air let out, you know, with a slight give -- it prob'ly ain't budgin' without a scalpel nudgin' it along. Oops, getting a little slaphappy here.

Sorry, but have to finish the job I started here. Don't go away! I HAVE to share a couple of the choicest reader remarks following the article. "Eat garlic crushed with a meat tenderizer." Next person, "Don't eat garlic, what are you crazy, go to doc and get antibiotics!" Someone else evaluated that most of the comments were obviously made by people who "hadn't finished the fourth grade." Another shared how a hole was drilled in his head to drain infection from his brain. Okay, fading away here. I'm sure if I kept reading, I'd learn how sinus surgery caused people to become blind, deaf, dumb, lame and more. An interesting post was how we need "broad-based anti-microbials like olive leaf extract because, after all, the dove brought an olive leaf back in his beak to Noah on the ark." But my very, very favorite was by a person who summed up their sinus misery with, "My face looked so swollen and red and black that I looked like . . . (are you ready?, KEM asks?) . . . a gorila." Their spelling. THEY don't consult Webster.

I had something to close with, but the content of this blog has caused me to become discombobulated, which I'm beginning to believe is my usual state of being. Oh yes, wait, I have it! Just as I was finishing reading the deadly article above, deadly to my confidence, anyway, my mother arrived to watch a movie with me starring Vivien Leigh and Robert Taylor, two exceptionally gorgeous creatures who never knew sinus grief. Mom and my sister had been raving about and viewing this drama multiple times, lo, these many months (phrase for the night). My dad recorded it for me for my birthday, and my mother couldn't wait for us to see it together so she could register my reaction. Well. If you want to be DEPRESSED FOR LIFE, then just be sure to see Waterloo Bridge ASAP.

To end on a positive note and erase from your memory everything you just read, I am sure you will be delighted to hear I'm going on a spinach hiatus this week due to nigh unto OD'ing on it last week.

Promise Breaker KEM

Note: The Webster Dictionary definitions and AOL article above are rather loosely quoted but pure in intent.