The $2,500 Nose Snake: My Manometry Adventure at the VA

Zero Stars. Would Not Recommend…

Unless you really need it.

If you ever feel like your chronic illness journey is leveling you up in ways you never asked for, welcome to my latest side quest: Esophageal Manometry Testing. Brought to you by my ever-expanding healthcare bingo card and the fine folks at the Southeast Louisiana Veterans Healthcare System in New Orleans.

Let me set the stage.

I have Sjögren’s Syndrome, which means my body is dryer than a biscuit in the desert, and add in some kissing ulcers (thanks to a stuck pill), a past lymphoma tumor with radiation aftermath, scar tissue from C7-T1 disc arthroplasty in 2024, and sprinkle in some hEDS hypermobility, my esophagus has been through it.

Why this test?

I’ve had trouble swallowing, officially called dysphagia, and it’s been getting worse. Manometry helps doctors figure out what your esophagus is doing when you swallow. It measures muscle contractions through a probe that gets… well, intimately acquainted with your nasal cavity and beyond.

Spoiler: They didn’t numb me.

That’s right. With my Sjögren’s, where even eye drops are a lifeline, you’d think numbing would be a no-brainer. But nope. I couldn't be numbed because of the testing. Just a little lube and a whole lot of nope as they inserted the probe through one nare (nostril) and threaded it into my stomach, to 50 centimeters deep. My eye on that side immediately began to cry in protest.

Did you know you can stop yourself from swallowing by sticking out your tongue?

Neither did I, but I’m basically a tongue gymnast now. The tech had me lay flat and squirted saline in my mouth, commanding:

1. Swallow ONCE.

2. Stick out your tongue and hold.

3. Repeat 10 times.

Then I had to do it 5 times rapidly. Then again sitting up, which was somehow worse. And finally, I chugged a cup of water through a straw with the tube still in. All while trying not to gag.

The grand finale? YANK.

Removing the probe felt like the world’s worst Band-Aid, but inside your head. The tech had mercy and pulled fast. I practically levitated.

Aftercare: snowballs, throat spray, and surviving another round.

My throat felt raw like I’d swallowed sandpaper. So I treated myself to numbing throat spray and a shaved ice (because snowball stands are OPEN here in Louisiana, baby!). Could I have used a daiquiri? Absolutely. But I don’t drink anymore because alcohol flares my fibromyalgia like it’s throwing a tantrum.

Final thoughts:

This test is uncomfortable, sometimes downright painful, but it’s also important if you’re having serious swallowing problems. Knowing what your body’s doing (or not doing) gives your doctors crucial info to help you swallow safely.

So if you’re facing this test:

Bring your sense of humor and maybe a friend (or reward snack).

Remember: this is a step forward in your self-advocacy journey.

You don’t have to enjoy it, but you can survive it, and then tell the story.