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Technically, I think I can honestly say that I have broken multiple noses. I don’t know, actually. If you get a nose job, and the new nose is noticeably different from the old one, is that considered a new nose? Whatever! The reality is that I have broken my nose six times (at least), and at different times in my life my nose has looked considerably different than it does now. Which is problematic actually, because for better or worse, my nose is probably one of the main things one might notice upon first introductions. It is large.

I don’t like to look in mirrors. I don’t like to see reflections and I definitely, definitely don’t like to see myself in pictures or videos. Like others who might share this tendency, I tend to be a bit hypercritical. Even if others might not notice, I do. Unfortunately for me, with this whole pandemic thing and wearing masks or not to wear masks and personal rights versus the safety of all, I have been thinking of my nose much, much more than I would prefer.

The first time I broke my nose my little sister was still young enough and small enough to sit in the shopping cart. As I pushed the cart (I loved doing this as a kid. Shopping was kind of like a race, with fast straightaways and hairpin corners and other competitors (shoppers) who had to be beaten… somehow) my sister would sit in the cart backward and face me. She loved to race shopping carts also. The faster I went, the bigger she smiled. She really liked wheelies. I would put my foot on the bottom bar and lift the front two wheels of the cart off the ground as we made our way around the track (grocery store). Wheelies could produce giggles! We both L-O-V-E-D to do wheelies! My Mom… not such a big fan,

Anyways, we were just about done. We were actually in the line to checkout The racing for the day was complete and we were just about to unload the groceries and park the cart until the next shopping trip. It was our turn and the cashier was waiting for us to pull forward. One last wheelie…

I gave it too much gas! The whole cart, the groceries, my sister, and the cart itself flipped up and over and the handle of the cart to which I was still holding, came down squarely onto the bridge of my nose. The last thing I remember is everything in my eyesight turning a shade of red as the manager of the store came running over and was asking if I was alright and my Mom screaming at him, “No! He is not alright. Does he look alright? Do something!” Then, things went to black.

Only seven stitches and I remember thinking how totally awesome and totally gross it felt when the doctor pulled the string out that he had used to stitch up my nose. It was one continuous string and as he pulled I could feel it moving and I thought that was so cool, but it also almost made me pass out. Over the years, there have been many more experiences similar to this one. My nose has taken a beating on the soccer field, rollerblading, again in some sort of a store, and playing broomball. These are the ones I can remember distinctly, at least. Each of those is a pretty good story as well, but another time. This one was shared for a definite reason.

I know what it is to feel uncomfortable breathing. I can even empathize with those here in America who don’t want to wear masks because they don’t fit correctly or they make you look stupid or the whole thing is a hoax or whatever is the reason. I think all of these things and so many more. I don’t like to wear a mask for so many reasons. Maybe the number one reason is that my nose is big enough that most masks barely fit. But I do wear a mask when I go out into public. I wear a mask simply because I want to protect others. I have no idea what the reality of the world is right now. I am just as confused, probably more so, than anyone else. I just know that I don’t want to make any others sick. I don’t want to make the world any worse off than it is currently. No matter how uncomfortable, how restrictive, how infringing upon my personal rights, and definitely no matter how big my nose might be, I choose to wear a mask.