Forty-four months ago (3.6 years), I had an operation that three of the four doctors I saw before the operation said was common, not to worry about, and ‘a piece of cake.’ The doctor performing the operation said, “And you could, heaven forbid, die.” Of the four, he was the one who was right. I almost died. He said he was afraid he was going to lose me. Obviously, he didn’t.
The short version. I had a tumor. They went up my nose to get it. They didn’t get it all – because of the almost dying bit, but some damage was done. That’s why I wear an eye-patch and that’s why, every year, about this time of year when the Santa Anna winds blow and it gets very dry here in Southern California, my nose starts bleeding… and I don’t mean the little trickle most people see when they have a nose-bleed. This stuff pours like sweet wine into a magnum sized glass.
The first time it happened, I panicked. I thought I was going to bleed to death. I called 911, then I sat in the emergency room (hidden away because they didn’t want to disturb the other people waiting), while holding my nose for almost four hours before it stopped. An eye, ear, nose, throat doctor cauterised it, and I didn’t have a problem for a year or so. That’s about it for the details, probably more than you wanted to know anyway.
Anyway, now I know what to do. I stuff paper up my nose and wait. It usually takes 2 – 3 days before it stops completely. During that time though, I’m afraid to go anywhere. Either I look strange or I suddenly run away from where ever I am rather than look like I spilled ketchup.
So, here’s the thing. Is there a story for children in this?