Driving through the fog this morning listening to my Adele CD all I could think of was my nose.
When I woke this day, my nose was sore to touch, swollen and a brief fright in the mirrorshowed it to be bright red, as well. I look like I could lead the way for W.C. Fields and Rudolph the red nosed reindeer. I have no idea why. The skin on my nose was sore for a day or so, like sunburn, but I am not sunburnt. I can only guess I had something on my hands and rubbed it on my nose and my skin was irritated it. Notice I wrote on, not in!
I was going to cover with makeup, but then dropped powder makeup all over the bedroom carpet and by the time I cleaned that up I just decided to go with it and to tell everyone that I have a drinking problem. It seemed so much easier.
I took an antihistamine before leading to work. So, as I weaved my way through the morning fog, I briefly contemplated using my nose to light my way, instead of the car lights, before my thoughts turned to how I would no doubt handle the day ahead.
My daughter replied to my email of woe with the suggestion, and what I can only assume was also with the intention of being helpful, that I should Google big red nose, just to find out if it might be a medical condition. Something permanent, no doubt. I did, and “rhinophyma (large, bulbous reddened nose due to unknown cause)” appeared making me no more wiser and a little more worried.
A colleague said that she would check out my glowing ember from time to time throughout the day in case I need either a bag over my head (without a nose hole!) or to make a fiery exit. She said little during the day, but did ask towards days end if I would be in next day. One look in the mirror told me her concern was not entirely misplaced.
I returned home, and glutton for punishment enquired of Mr FD his opinion of my rosey proboscis and he only hesitated a heart beat to answer “It is not good,” as he left the room. “Perhaps you should go to the doctor, if it doesn’t improve, “ he continued over his shoulder as he disappeared from my reach. “Or buy a pair of big flapping shoes and join the circus,” he continued to Son as he passed through the kitchen.
Heading for the door, I hope. Or he soon will be.