Man, if my face were in need of spite...


When my otolaryngologist told me that, undoubtedly, I had broken my nose at some point in my past, I didn’t really believe him. I mean, sure, I had a few run-ins with things hitting me square on the sniffer, but surely nothing bad enough to cause the deviancy my septum had got up to. The one time that springs most forcibly to mind was when I was a soccer player. Yeah, I played in a rec league when I was ten or so. This was before I established my firm anti-spherical object position (this story gets more typically alea later). One of our games was held at a elementary school at the mouth of a canyon. We arrived at the field at some unearthly hour (probably 7.00 am), only to learn that the other team just wasn’t going to show up. So there we are, sleepy, freezing cold from the wind tearing out the mouth of the canyon, and opponent-less. Instead of just packing up and going home, someone thought it’d be fun to have a father-son match. We split into two teams and went at it. Things were going beautifully. That is until I made a sort of dramatic exhibit of throwing myself on the ground in frustration (see, I told you it’d be more like me later). I was cold. I was still bleary from the early rising. I was exhausted from running. So I just sort of sprawled myself down. A father, playing on the other team, got the ball at this point and, without looking, kicked it as hard as he could. Sadly, my face was in the way. Oh, and he was about a yard from me. Sure, this hurt, but I didn’t bleed or anything. I’m pretty certain the game kept going even.

I mean, other than that and various other times during sports playing, I didn’t think I’d hit my nose all that hard nor often. However, I’m beginning to wonder about my memory. In the two weeks since the surgery, I have had three nose-related accidents. The first happened when I walked into an open cupboard. Now, this might be excusable if I were rounding a corner or if someone opened it right before I hit it. Nope. I was standing, facing the cupboard for a good minute and a half, talking with my brother who was rummaging inside it. Then, for no real reason, I took a step and, whack! A nose full of maple. I blame my sketchy depth perception here. Well, and my brother, because I can.

Second time was in bed. For some reason, since my surgery I cannot sleep past 5.00 am. I always wake up, realize the time and try to get another hour and half (or three hours) of sleep before getting up for work. So, one night after waking up, I was trying to smooth my covers (I tend to spasm and twist and convulse in my sleep). My comforter was all entangled, though, so I tried the trick of pulling really hard to get it out from under me as I titled. Unfortunately, I didn’t need to yank nearly as hard as I did. So, I ended up throwing my whole body, seemingly nose-first into the wall. Let's just say I didn't end up falling back asleep that night.

The third time took place in my bed as well, making wonder about the safety of my sleeping arrangements. I have a bookshelf-headboard thing. Since it’s too full (I can never get enough shelfing), I have my dvds stacked on top. They’re in a paper box lid, so they’re stable, more or less. At least I thought they were until, once again at five o’clock, I wake up and roll over only to have a veritable cascade of hard plastic shower me with knocks and bumps. After swearing and laying stunned in pain for a moment, I stacked them up and removed them from my bed. The next morning I counted. No fewer than eleven single dvds and three boxed sets had smashed into my face. Frankly, I’m a touch surprised I didn’t bruise.

I guess I should have more faith in the judgments of my doctors. Apparently, I’m rather rough of my nose. I should bake it a cake or something. But knowing me, I'd probably bash it with the beaters as I mixed.


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