Then, one day I felt my left nostril all blocked up. I told mom, and she took me immediately to one of those famous nose-throat doctors, recommended by my dad at the ministry.
The doctor looked up my nose opening the nostril with one of those special reverse pliers which force one's nostril to become twice its regular size.
He scheduled surgery immediately for the next day, and when my folks asked about it, he claimed not to know what it was, and that he would wait until after it was removed.
My first surgery. The worst part was the pre-op exams. Blood, cardiograms, encephalograms and local examinations deep inside my nose to see if it could be removed. The doctor would reach deep inside my nostril and using a special scissors pliers, was pulling on it to see if it could be removed, or if it was, maybe, a piece of left over incense.
Then total anesthesia. Oh the horror of it, when you are 6. Mom and Dad, waited patiently and anxiously outside the surgery room, thinking that the worst had happened.
After an hour in the surgery room, the doctor got out, approached my parents and said: "Well, Mr. and Mrs. Galidakis, you are a very fine and progressive couple, but I am afraid the news are not very good. I won't know for sure until after the biopsy, but it appears that we have something not so benign here. Please try to contain yourselves...".
Mom fainted. Dad turned blue. After mom got up, they both started to weep. Then, because it was an urgent case, the doctor ordered as fast a biopsy as possible.
When the results came out, the doc announced the good news to my folks, who by that time had lost faith to most of the modern Gods, Christian or otherwise.
"It appears to be a polyps, and we have no explanation how it got there. It was composed of a semi-fleshy substance, softer than regular flesh, but harder than thick nose mucus. Its root was exactly on top of the igmorium cavity, at the small junction, where the cavity of the cheek bone finds exhaust in the nasal cavity. It had the shape of a little worm. It was white in color."
Then he showed the article to my parents, who started believing in God again, after the docís explanation. After the recovery, we all went home happy and the incident was almost forgotten, even though I had a huge piece of gauze stuffed up in my nostril.
After about one year, I could feel my left nostril starting to get clogged again. Similar story. The same doctor, the same hospital exams, the same surgery, all the same, except that this second time they really did remove it quite fast, because they were aware of what it was.
Third year, same story. Third polyps removed from exactly the same spot.
After 8 identical operations one per year, mom and dad decided to consult the doctors in Britain. So we went there. Maybe the polymaths in Britain had a better explanation on what this thing was. After examining me and the past history's X-rays, one professor from Oxford really concurred:
"The cause is unknown. We are dealing with a very specialized case of polypses, which somehow get initiated by an underlying condition, most likely allergic rhinitis. The problem will disappear when the boy reaches the end of puberty, around the age of 20-21. Until then, it would be futile to try to dig deeper for a cause, because the skull is still being developed, and we want to avoid and skull malformations resulting from a risky deeper and more complex operation."
We headed back home. Next year, the same story. By the time I was 12-14, I had become well known at the particular hospital. The doctors would remark "you again?" and they would immediately schedule surgery, since the records from the older exams were all still available and almost current.
The polyps started growing in size. When I was 15, it would develop two segments that shot from the root. One would go down my left nostril, the other would go down my throat. The largest specimen which the doctors brought to mom and dad in a jar full of alcohol, was a worm like polyps of 10 cms forward length, 5cms backwards length. I remember my folks being so amazed at it, they wanted to keep the specimen around.
Even though I gradually lost count of how many operations I had, the damn Brits were right. The polyps stopped growing around age 21.
The last doctor to examine me and perform surgery, was an incredible scientist. Compulsive smoker, the only place he didn't smoke was inside the surgery room, and lame on the right hand. In fact his right hand was completely useless. His fingers were grossly contorted and joined, from some sort of genetic defect. Not as bad as completely missing the hand, but he could only grossly hold a big object with it. Not good enough for surgery, yet he was the one who performed the last, almost successful operation at age 20.
"Dear Ioannis, this time we will have to go a bit deeper, and search around to see why this is happening. You won't feel any different during this surgery, but it will be slightly more painful when you wake up."
"How deeper?"
"Well, this time we will go inside the cheek bone, through the igmorium, and I will pierce in there to see what's inside. The probing will be done from the inside, so you need not worry about drilling your face."
"Ah, that's reassuring. Ok, doc, go for it"
I remember this operation, because by mistake they gave me a smaller dose of anesthetic. In fact, I partially woke up during it, and remember the doc having inserted a long needle in my nose which reached all the way down to my throat. I also remember a clicking sound from the piercing of the igmorium separator, some sort of long probe, trying to get in it. The next thing I remember was the doc yelling to the anesthesiologist, "Up the fucking dose! He is awake!.."
The worst part of the total anesthesia is when you wake up. It feels like you have been dead and you are being reborn. Most of the times, I was trembling and shivering, and a distinct sense of mental and physical pain was in the air. No matter how many warm blankets they tucked under me, the sensation was horrible. I just wanted to continue sleeping. Forever if possible. But the docs had a different opinion. Get up as soon as possible, so that the renal system can excrete this shit from you asap.
"Success, Ioannis! We found the cause!" The first thing the doctor muttered when I awoke."
Yeaee! As if I really cared after 18 morbid total anesthesia's, and scratching and scribbling inside my head.
"Just before you woke in the middle of it, I pierced the membrane that separated the inside of your cheek bone to the inside of the nasal cavity. About 5ccs of a yellow, semi-transparent fluid jotted out and splashed my face. The entire cheek bone cavity was full of it. I don't know what it was, but I scraped the separator off and left the passageway open permanently, so that it has a way out now. I believe that from now on, you should gradually stop having the polypses, as they were probably a reaction to this stuff being trapped inside the cheek bone. It appears that the concentration of yellow fluid was the result of allergic rhinitis."
All in all, there were about 18 identical operations, with total anesthesia's, and about 50 X-rays to my head. Count in the psychological shock from the repeated event, once a year, sometimes twice a year, and there you have it.
A last small polyps is still present in my left nostril today, but it doesn't grow anymore. The relationship we have now is almost symbiotic. It doesn't bother me, I don't bother it.
What I really hate about all this, however, is that nobody told me about the real explanation for the polypses: The alien radioactive tracking device that they had installed in my nose when I was 6, and which was removed when I was 21. Reasons unknown.