Trust Me, I’m Dr. Ozzy

Almost every night I wake up in the early hours drenched in sweat. It’s disgusting—the sheets are soaked through. I’ve tried to turn up the air conditioning, but to no effect. What’s causing this, and how do I stop it from happening?

Olivia, New York

Could be nylon sheets. Those things make me sweat like I’m on Death Row. I can’t have ’em near me. Same with feathers, which mess my chest up, and sleeping bags, which are one step removed from being buried alive. If it ain’t your sheets, it could be what you’re wearing, or it could be an allergy—or the side-effect of some medication you’re taking. If I were you, I’d try something different every night, and try and solve it that way.

DR. OZZY’S SURGERY NOTICEBOARD

Wet Dreams

¦ It’s amazing how many people wake up in the morning feeling sweatier than one of Jabba the Hut’s armpit. One reader, Lisa, wrote to me: “I suffered night sweats for 15 years before a gynaecologist did a blood test and diagnosed that I had next to no oestrogen. Although I wasn’t menopausal or pre-menopausal, I was having the same kind of symptoms. Now I take a daily supplement and my life has changed utterly.” Meanwhile, Gabrielle in London reckoned she’d solved the problem with a silk-filled duvet, while a GP from Scotland—he didn’t want to give his name, funnily enough—said a bad case of the sweats might be a symptom of something called “polymyalgia rheumatica.” I’m told that means “pain in many muscles” in Greek. Sounds like one of my mid-1980s hangovers.

Nipples (Unusual)

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

Like Francisco Scaramanga in The Man with the Golden Gun, I have a third nipple. Should I be worried?

Gary, Dorset

Only if it starts talking to you.

O.

Obscene Language (Excessive Use Of)

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

I’ve become addicted to swearing. It started two years ago, and basically I swear in nearly every sentence now, even in front of my parents at school. I’ve tried to stop but can’t. I think I must have Tourette’s syndrome. What should I do?

Ben, Cheshire

Swearwords are weird, aren’t they? I mean, the American word “schmuck”—which pretty much no-one finds offensive—apparently comes from the Yiddish word “shmok,” which is a very rude term for a bloke’s Upstanding Citizen. It’s as bad as calling someone the C-word. Then there’s the English word “bollocks”—which I love—which used to be slang for a Vicar, or so I’ve been told (although in the old days a more common way of spelling it was “Ballocks”). People just decide which words they want to get upset about, basically. So my advice to you, Ben, is to carry on swearing as much as you like: just do it in a foreign language. That way you won’t get into any trouble.

P.

Pain (Management Of)

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

A few weeks ago, while in a New York hotel room, I accidently stepped on the door stop. The pain was intense. Now, three weeks later, it hurts when I walk. I think I might have broken something in my foot. What’s your expert medical opinion?

Mark, Rancho Santa Fe, California

There’s an easy to fix to this one, Mark: try playing football. You’ll know if it’s broken after that.

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

I have just had a gallbladder operation and, frankly, I feel bloody awful. Given the many medical disasters you’ve recovered from during your lifetime, what are your rehabilitation tips?

Hec, Glasgow

Two words: baby steps. You’ve just had someone rip open your stomach with a knife, so you can’t expect to be starring in Riverdance any time soon. Having said that, I wasn’t exactly very patient after I fell off my quad bike and ended up in a coma for eight days. As soon as I woke up, I tried to check myself out. Hospitals aren’t very nice places to be, in my opinion—if only for the fact that there’s fuck all to do in there. But I’ve now learned that you’ve gotta go easy on yourself as much as you can. Trust me: if you’re too impatient, you’re only gonna end slowing down your recovery in the long term.

Parents (Living With)

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

Okay, I’m just going to come out and say it: I’m 40 years old, between jobs, and single. How bad is it if I move back in with my parents, who have plenty of room at home? I’m not relishing the thought, but it would save money while I get my life together.

Robert, Pontefract, West Yorks

It sounds like you’re trying to live your life by other people’s rules. If you like your parents, and they don’t mind you in their house, then move in. If you were Italian, you wouldn’t even think twice about it—most guys over there live with their mothers until they get hitched, no matter how long it takes. I realise people might not be so cool with that kind of thing in West Yorkshire, but it’s a lot fucking better than being so broke you can’t afford to eat, never mind pay for dates. Just do what you’ve gotta do, man.

Phobias (Pigeons, Etc.)

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

Every time I get on a plane, I convince myself that I’m going to die. It’s reached the point where I’m starting to make excuses at work to avoid travelling overseas. Please help!

Liz, Buckinghamshire

Flying can be deadly. For example, I was on a plane once to America and the bloke next to me started to make funny noises while eating his nuts. Next thing I knew, I was sitting next to a corpse. The worst thing was having to press the little buzzer to call for a flight attendant, and then explain why a bloke who’d been alive a few minutes earlier was suddenly face down on his tray table. For a moment, I thought they’d send out Columbo to