It’s two days before Christmas, and my sister, brother-in-law, and their two boys are on their way here from New Mexico. They’re bringing their own food because they’re healthy eaters. They actually have a food cooler that plugs into their car’s cigarette lighter. Mom’s been cleaning out our refrigerator, throwing away old deli meat and unused packets of hot sauce from Taco Bell, clearing every square inch she can in order to make room for my sister’s unhomogenized grass-fed milk and organic tortillas. The whole affair has my dad in a tizzy, a little too much change too fast. “Don’t throw that jar of pickled beans away, Judy!” And it’s only going to get better. This time tomorrow the boys will be running around underfoot, scattering Crayons and Legos all over the kitchen table and living room floor. Hell, I’ll probably find some floating in the toilet. It’s going to be glorious mess.

But don’t worry, I’m sure there’s some whiskey here somewhere.

My sinus infection/cold continues to persist. Ever the dramatic, I’ve been thinking about writing my own eulogy and preparing myself for the afterlife. I mean, if this were the Middle Ages, I’d already be a senior citizen, so I think I can say I’ve had a good run here. Yesterday I read that some people have cured sinus problems by sniffing probiotic powder. So last night I picked up a bottle of probiotic capsules from my aunt then went to The Vitamin Shoppe to pick up a different brand, just in case. But before I went into the store, I emptied the contents of a single probiotic capsule onto a sheet of paper and snorted the powder up my nose like a cocaine addict. Honestly, it wasn’t the smoothest experience. The powder kind of clumped around my nostrils. Maybe it would have gone better if I’d put the powder on a mirror and chopped it up with a credit card.

I can’t believe I’m telling this story. A thirty-seven-year-old man snorting probiotic powder in a parking lot. What would I have said if a cop had seen me? I swear, officer, it’s acidophilus!

Walking into The Vitamin Shoppe, I had so much white powder on my face it looked like I’d been eating a funnel cake with both hands tied behind my back. Paranoid, I wiped my face with my shirt, got what I needed, and got out. Chill out, Marcus, no one thinks you’re a drug user. As of this moment, I’ve tried the treatment a few times, and I can’t tell that it’s making a difference one way or the other. Maybe it’s not supposed to be an instant cure, or maybe it’s just more internet crap. Either way, I’m still sick, still coughing up junk, still as frustrated as ever.

I’ve been slowing working my way through the book I have about holistic sinus health. Last night I read the section of vitamins and minerals, and apparently I’m not taking enough to kick an infection. The book says it takes 15 supplements to do the job, not 12. But then it also says an air filter, a negative ion particle generator, a humidifier, and the Archangel Gabriel would be nice. (I made up that last part.) Regardless, there are million helpful hints, a veritable shotgun approach of ideas. And whereas I appreciate all the thorough suggestions, I can only afford so many of them. But for crying out loud, it’s not like I’m not trying over here. Seriously–mad props to this infection for being such an indestructible bastard.

Mad props means extreme support or high praise, Mom.

Now it’s three in the afternoon, and I’m considering cleaning up and running some errands when this blog is done. I need a few food items (and maybe more supplements!) and have no desire to brave the streets and stores tomorrow. Today will be bad enough, but it is what it is.

Last night as I was sniffing probiotics up my nose, I laughed at how crazy it was. At the same time, I realized that I actually enjoy this whole process of experimentation. Let me be clear, I want this thing to go away. But there’s part of my personality that enjoys digging my heels in, trying one more thing, continuing to look for an answer long after many people would have quit. To me this feels like an act of self-care, of not giving up on myself and the idea of something better. At the very least I’m gaining patience, endurance, and compassion, three things I’m finding to be hard to come by, high-priced, and, most importantly, worth whatever you have to go through to get them.