My Nasal Congestion Was Nowhere So Pretty As Hers

Sometimes, from deep inside my early memories, a Hungarian word comes flying to the surface, bringing with it a whole jumble of interconnected moments from my past.

Today’s word is náthás, which was a word frequently applied to me as a child. It is pronounced like naht-hahsh, equally accented on both syllables. According to my trusty Országh Magyar-Angol Kéziszotár (translates as Handy Hungarian-English Dictionary), the word means “having a cold.” Actually, in my experience, it really means “having the symptoms of a cold, whether from an actual cold or allergy.”

In my case, it was respiratory allergies, going back to an early age. I remember all the vain attempts to unblock my nose, starting with the deceitful over-the-counter nose drops called Neo-Synephrine. It actually succeeded in unplugging the blockage for up to half a minute, immediately followed by an even more resistant blockage.

Then there was the old Hungarian remedy of filling a large pan with boiling water and mixing it with table salt. I would hold a towel over my head and bend low over the steaming salty water, breathing deeply. That didn’t work any better than the Neo-Synephrine. So much for old remedies.

Nowadays there are more effective medications and procedures. One good nasal unplugger is a sinus rinse in which salt is dissolved in distilled water and shot up each nostril using a squeeze bottle—the principle being that what goes up one nostril comes out the other, bringing with it the muck stored in the sinus cavity.

Nevertheless, I am still very much náthás, due to snorting, sneezing, and nose-blowing. That never seems to go away. I like to think of myself as a superhero in the Marvel Comic Universe, my super power being the ability to shoot great gobs of mucus at evildoers.