My Nose Hurts

When I was a kid, we often went to the beach. I loved playing at the beach, building sandcastles, looking for beach critters, collecting shells, splashing, riding waves, swimming around in the water.  The beach was a favorite place. Still is. In the ocean, I mostly kept my head above water. I didn’t like the way it felt when I got salt water up in my nose, in my ears, or heaven-forbid, in my eyes, where it stung fiercely. I swam and played in the ocean, but always with caution, to keep my head up in the air. Once, when I was little, a powerful wave smashed into me, turning me head over heels, sideways, and upside-down before slamming me violently onto the ocean floor. I came up looking no worse for the wear, but crying, because of the unexpected shock and because my nose hurt really bad. I mean, it hurt really, really, really, really, really bad. I cried and told my parents how much my nose hurt.

Here is where the story varies, depending on who you ask. My side of the story: I complained relentlessly about the pain in my nose. My parents, seeing no blood, and no outward sign of trauma, said soothing words, gave me a minute to recover, and went about whatever pressing business they were attending to on that casual, relaxing beach afternoon. After some time went by, I realized that they were not going to do anything to fix the pain, so I quit talking about it.  It still continued to hurt really⁵ bad for days.

About 15 or so years later, I went to see an Ear, Nose, & Throat specialist for an evaluation, and within the first minute of the exam, he asked me when I had broken my nose. I immediately straighten up, pointed one finger high in the air, and shouted, “AHA! I KNEW IT! I knew I was hurt when that wave knocked me down!” Completely vindicated, I muttered on and on, saying that no one believed me, and now there was proof that I had broken my nose! Coming to my senses, I realized I had to get it together to continue the session with the doctor. But, as soon as I got home, I called my parents to break the news.

They were not impressed. And, they were not happy to hear that I felt like they had ignored my pleas those many years ago. This was their side of the story: When I came up from the dunking, they knew that I had gotten slammed around very hard. They did not see any outward bruising or bleeding, but they suspected I had injured the cartilage, so they decided to keep an eye on me.  With no internet or Google tools, they relied on their own instincts and experience to evaluate my condition. After a while, I quit complaining about the pain, so they worried less and less. They figured that if it was broken, there wasn’t much to be done about it anyway.

I was slightly shocked to hear that my parents had (allegedly) not ignored my complaints and cries of pain. I had always filed that day into my “Nobody Believes Me” folder. I was surprised to hear that they did share my concern, but my own actions of giving up led them to believe that all was well. So, it was possible, slightly possible, that I shared the blame for having a broken nose that was completely ignored. Interesting turn of events.

As history often repeats itself, one of our daughters suffered a broken nose during a raucous game of trampoline bouncing. While I wasn’t there at the time, I was told there was a mighty crunching noise, and her nose was visibly out of place. They straightened the nose, and, a few days later we took her to the doctor, just to check. The doctor immediately advised us to do a small surgical procedure to correct the injury internally and prevent problems that might develop in the future. We scheduled surgery for later that week, but when the surgeon joined us in the hospital room, where our daughter was hooked up to the IV and prepped for surgery, he suddenly questioned his diagnosis and wondered whether she needed a procedure at all. I threw his words back at him…..”to prevent problems that might develop in the future!!!”, so he decided to go through with the surgery. For the next week, we had a very angry and embarrassed eighth grader heading off to school each day with a giant bandage contraption on her healing nose.

Was the nose procedure necessary? Since the doctor himself questioned it, maybe not. But, I’m sure that I subconsciously remembered my nose injury and wondered if years of congestion, sinus problems, heavy snoring, and deviated septum were related. Had I not experienced all that, I might have pulled the wires and skedaddled her out of the hospital as quickly as possible.

While planning for this article, I wondered what pictures I would be able to use. I found a 3-inch foam nose in a random drawer in our house. See? My family is so weird.

Back to the original story— 👃my nose injury and my parents’ reaction. It’s pretty easy to blame other people for things that go wrong or things that aren’t attended to properly. It’s surprising if you find out that your own actions may have contributed to their behavior.  If you've missed the message in my story, it's this--I quit complaining about my nose, which hurt really⁵ bad, because I assessed that my parents weren't going to do anything about it. My parents didn’t do anything about my nose pain because I quit complaining about it. I know, there was probably nothing to do, but, had someone acknowledge the injury back when it occurred, I wouldn’t have held onto that feeling of neglect for so many years, or felt so triumphant when the ENT doctor identified the break.

I guess misunderstandings are inevitable. Nowadays, even more so, as people rely on text messages, emojis, and other cryptic symbols instead of having full-blown conversations. My advice is to hang in there, listen to others, and don’t assume that silence means that everything is ok. And, if you are hurting, speak up. People can’t read your mind.