schnoz

“Come and see the cruise ship!” Mom called from the lanai.

I had my coffee in one hand and my phone in the other, I was about to call and book a whale watching cruise for later that day. It was the day after Christmas, and glancing out to where mom stood I could see that it was a lovely morning. 

The kids were still sacked out on their respective bits of the sectional sofa, they’d opted to each take over a length of the L rather than pull out the lumpy sofa bed. One of my children suffers from a touch of the prince ss and the pea syndrome, and whenever we sleep away from home there is bound to be a great deal of attention paid to the procurement of an acceptable sleeping chamber for the young royal.  This arrangement was working out great; there were plenty of linens and pillows in the condo that we used to transform the sofa into their beds each night. In the morning, they both folded up their bedding and stowed it inside the handy storage ottoman.  The only problem with getting a good night’s sleep was that the ocean was too loud. 

I know. 

It was reported that the ocean outside of our 4^th floor unit, the ocean that we had so carefully chosen this very location in order to be near, did not sound like relaxing waves, it sounded like a tsunami crashing. How is a kid expected to sleep with a relentless tsunami crashing outside?! Our solution was to turn on the ceiling fan at night, and close the sliding glass door that occupied the entire leeward side of the joint.

I glanced at the still lounging children as I made my way toward mom to look at the cruise ship. It only took a few seconds to cross the room, I’m a fast walker and I wanted to hurry up and make that call. I said: “What a beautiful da……”

Mom says she can still hear the sound of my face making contact with the tempered glass. 

It was so surprising to be stopped like that! The door was invisible. I didn’t pause or break stride as I stepped through the threshold, and the momentum of my thwarted trajectory was taken directly by my nose.   I didn’t drop anything, I gasped and turned and walked back to the table and set down my coffee, cupping my hand over my face to… I don’t know… make sure it was still there? Stop the blood that wasn’t flowing? Oh, it hurt. 

I went into the bathroom and had a look. At first glance, nothing was amiss. But oh, it hurt.

Upon closer inspection, there appeared to be a bit of a divot missing from the top of my nose. I watched as it quickly filled with blood. Shit. 

It really hurt. 

Mom got me an ice pack, Bill and the kids circled cautiously. At one point I said to my girl: “I know you’re worried, but please stop asking if I’m okay.”  A mom can’t really answer NO to that question, a child asks it seeking reassurance. And I was okay, I was stomping around swearing and crying, it was just like any other Monday morning.  But oh, it hurt. 

And I was so pissed! I was halfway through the vacation we’d all been dreaming about for so long, we had just rented snorkel gear for the week. I was in the sun and water at all hours of day and night. How was I going to manage with a busted up nose? The thing about icing the bridge of your nose is that you can’t really do anything else, and the mind tends to wallow. So I did that for a while. I wallowed in the pit of despair. When that got boring, I started to think about the possibility that I’d get a black eye or two from smashing my nose that hard – then my thoughts naturally turned to Marcia Brady

I hadn’t cut it on anything, the divot was from a bone meets glass interaction.  When I mentioned that to mom she said that would mean that my nose had bent to the side. We looked at the offending door and there it was, a perfectly placed smudge of my bent sideways schnoz.

Every morning after that, I would wake up and take a photo of my face while still lying in bed, and then look to assess the damage. I thought I would post those photos here, but then I looked at them. I'd rather have you think of me as the flawless beauty that you know and love. I got off easier than poor Marcia, she really looked like hell out on that dreamy date.   

And the baseball cap that my kids got me for Christmas came in quite handy for shielding my schnoz from the sun and camoflaging my monstrosity.

my husband looks like a lunatic here, which is the main reason I chose to use this photo

Oh, my nose. It still hurts.