Under the Influence with Bernard O'Shea: Does nasal irrigation work?

"The first time it properly worked, it felt like I was breathing air for the first time. I also could smell what the family seven doors down were having for dinner."

Bernard O'Shea tries clearing out his nasal passages this week. Someone's gotta do it.  Photograph Moya Nolan

Growing up, I was a very snotty kid. My mother would rationalise it by saying I was 6 weeks premature. Being underweight (I’ve made up for it since) and fed with tubes through the nose in an incubator for nearly two months, she felt there may be some connection. My father said, “All the O’Sheas had to have their adenoids out, that's why you're so snotty.” 

My three older sisters nicknamed me “Candlesticks” because of the constant twin rivers of mucus flowing from my pre-pubescent nostrils. I didn’t find it funny or clever. You’ll never see a Jo Malone candle called 'Snot, Lime and Basil'. Whatever the reason, I've always lived with the fear of not having a hanky to hand.

Our youngest, Sean, who’s just turned two, had recently started to develop similar nasal issues. However, on closer inspection, the case was cracked when we noticed he started the time-honored toddler tradition of shoving stuff up his nose. We have to watch him like a hawk. We don’t need a trip to Temple Street during lockdown. 

If you were passing our house right now, you’d probably hear me roar “SEAN, LEAVE YOUR NOSE ALONE.” Every foray I made into researching my sinus problems led me towards Neti Pots.

Neti Pots are those funny little kettle-like jugs you’ll see in alternative medicine shops, often decorated with ornate lotus flowers. They come from ancient Indian yoga traditions. The idea is, you fill the pot of lukewarm water, with the option of dissolving some sea salt into it. You put the spout up your nose and let the water flow through your nasal passage allowing it to come out the opposite nostril. Essentially, it's nasal irrigation. Sounds easy… but it's snot (apologies).

Full disclosure: I have owned a Neti Pot for 5 years and only used it once. The first time I used it, I didn’t let the water cool down sufficiently and burnt the inside of my nose so badly that I had to run out into our kitchen in the nip only to realise my in-laws, wife and children were staring at me. I had to leave shame aside as they all watched me shove frozen peas up my nose.

Somewhat wary of my Neti Pot revival, I needed an alternative. So after a quick browse on Instagram and Google, I bought a long red rubber tube called Sutra Neti. Sutra Neti is another yoga-based nasal cleanse. It's trickier than the Neti Pot as you have to push the tube through your nose and out your mouth. I gazed while I grazed online at yogi masters basically flossing their heads by moving the rubber almost like a cheese string trough their oral cavities.

I decided to revisit the Neti Pot first. I waited until there was no-one in the house (a rarity during lockdown). This time, I waited until the saltwater had completely cooled down. I stuck the spout up my left nostril. Initially, there was nothing coming out the other side, so I kept moving my head around and eventually water started to trickle out. Then I felt the most excruciating pain in my eyes and cheekbones. The type of pain you feel when water goes up your nose after diving into a swimming pool multiplied by a million. I couldn’t stand it, I had to stop. 

Bernard O'Shea. Photograph Moya Nolan

Liquid burst out of my face like the climactic end of a water ride in an amusement park. When I lifted my head I saw my eyes in the mirror. They had turned bright red, and almost every vein in my retinas had burst. I waited until the pain stopped and foolishly tried again. The other side was slightly easier, but I knew I was doing something wrong.

Fifteen Googled minutes later, I learned it could take up to three or four times before you get used to the sensation of it. By day four I got the hang of it. The first time it properly worked, it felt like I was breathing air for the first time, and my eyesight, bizarrely, seemed better. I also could smell what the family seven doors down were having for dinner. After a painful start, it was a minor success and something I do now every day since the start of January. 

I thought to myself, “This feels great, wait until the Sutra Neti arrives.”  

My nose felt good but apparently, it didn’t so look good. That evening I was playing draughts with Tadhg and Olivia with one arm, while trying to stop Sean from trying to put checkers up his nose with my other available arm. Tadhg, who's four years old, asked me;

“Daddy, why is there hair up your nose?

“Sometimes men get a lot of hair up their nose.” 

“I don’t,” says Tadgh. 

Then Olivia, our six-year-old mafia boss told him, “It’s because he’s really, really old, Tadhg.” 

I was mildly shocked and barked,  “Olivia! I’m right in front of you.” She snarled back, “Sorry... It's because YOU'RE really old... That ok? Now, come on, your move."

As I was just about to jump one of her pieces, my wife, Lorna, returned from the shops. She flung a small brown cardboard envelope at me. 

"That was stuck in the letterbox. It's for you.” I opened it and it was my Sutra Neti. Lorna looked at it and spoke tentatively taking a breath between every word. “What … is … that … for ?” I told her and she grabbed it off me.

“You are a f**king idiot, Bernard. You will choke yourself with this thing. It’s hard enough looking after Sean’s nose, I can’t watch over you as well.” 

She walked out of the kitchen waving the rubber string over her head. “I’m getting rid of this.” and left an ominous warning: “LEAVE YOUR NOSE ALONE.” 

Sean looked at me as if to say, “Who’s she talking to? You or me?”