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There I was, on the couch, enjoying a three and a quarter minute respite. When all of a sudden, from out of the blue, I felt a tumultuous little beast approach. In a blur, in a flash, he had scampered up the couch – and I made the mistake of not paying attention.

The boy was angered (but, really, not so much). I had turned the other cheek. I had pushed him aside for sleep. I had not given him his proper due.

So, while standing at my knees, he turned and looked away, and then, he stood and started to bounce. He thought about the rest of his day and then he probably started to smile – before he, with a healthy dose of abandon, blindly threw himself backwards.

The back of his head is made of rock – but – the bridge of my nose is totally not. A lightning of pain and stars exploded in my head.

I fell off of the couch, rolling around and yowling like a seriously injured cat – and Ma Bumpercar ran into the room to see what all of the commotion was about. I was still on the floor, and my hands were over my face and I said “I tink he brode my node … I tink he brode my node …” I heard her rush over and say “No, Baby Bumpercar … No.” Evidently – he saw his opportunity to finish me off and had perched himself on the edge of the couch – where he was getting ready to pounce on me.

After some internet research and some staring in the mirror, I took some Tylenol and put an ice pack into the boo-boo bear and sat on the couch. Baby Bumpercar got excited that I was using his boo-boo bear and started dancing around and running up to me to snatch him away while fanatically yelling the word “Bear” over and over.

I went to a show that night with a puffy face looking moderately like a raccoon and terribly joked that I could either be called Natty Bump-on-nose – or – Puff Natty – both of which actually hurt to type out – because they are that unfunny. I was told over and over that I needed to go to a doctor – that it was so-so broken (or at least fractured) … I was undecided as to what to do. I figured that I would sleep on it.

I was, honestly, kind of excited about the prospect of having a broken nose … I’ve never broken anything other than an errant toe or two … and think of the story! My 22 month old breaks my nose … how tremendous is that?! Imagine what he’s going to be doing to me when he is 4 … Imagine how great that pain is going to be!

The next morning, I was super-puffy and the nose still hurt – so I went to the doctor and spent the entire day hanging out, getting looked at and eventually getting x-rayed. My doctor said that he “would be shocked if it wash’t broken” and that he “had a guy” who could fix me right up … He “had a guy”?! How exciting was that? I love it when people have specific people who can do specific situational jobs/things … it reminded me of when I had a truck and lived in Brooklyn … People would be talking about having to move some stuff and, I’m guessing, they would be hit with the phrase “You’re moving? Well – I have got a guy that can definitely help you with that …” – – and then I wondered – – what kind of situation is there that comes up where am I still “the guy” – – and then I got sad.

When I missed the nurse calling back with the results – they couldn’t have been more underwhelming … “results came back normal … just keep on icing the area and taking pain medication as needed.” What?! Seriously, what did that even mean? I had to call her back to find out – which seemed to make her angry … as she said, almost verbatim, “results came back normal … just keep on icing the area and taking pain medication as needed.”

And that, my friends, is how you end a story with a whimper … The nose wasn’t broken … Just bruised really bad. So – it looks like this round went to my nose, Baby Bumpercar … Better luck next time!

On a quick side-note … I hope that there isn’t a ‘next time’ … because if not breaking my nose hurt as bad ad it did – then – I can’t even moderately comprehend how much the real deal would hurt. Maybe I’ll just invest in a lot of bubble wrap – or – a face mask – or – a marshmallow nose guard – or – something?!

Maybe.

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed on Sunday morning . . . The ugh side. The ouch side. The I don’t feel swell side.

Basically, my throat was a hot screaming mess of no fun and it wanted to make sure that I knew it.

Yeah. I knew it. Loud and clear.

On Saturday, me and the troops had gone to a big one year old birthday bash. It was full of fun, people and cupcakes. But – was it also full of some glooby-globy from far afield that was sent to tear me asunder?! I was starting to really wonder.

First I made a list of potential carriers. Of hands I had shook, cheeks I had kissed and babies I’d walked around with. But then I realized that there was no point in pointing fingers . . . It was time for me to hibernate. I’d sleep this thing out.

The next day was dentist day! A tooth cleaning and an opportunity to figure out why breathing air was making my molar hurt. In the course of he cleaning, where I found out that I have a tiny cavity in one old filling and a horizontal crack in the hurty molar – which may end up needing another crown . . .

During the cleaning, the phrase “What’s going on with your throat?” was murmured. And, while I’m not one who enjoys chatting while getting my teeth cleaned, I am one who doesn’t mind complaining about my throat. So I replied with a “It hurts.”

“You should have that checked out.” was what I got back.

So – I went to the doctor place – without an appointment – where after a long wait, they let me into the room and weighed me. Nowadays, I know that I wear like 12 pounds of clothes (seriously), so I was cool with the number – but I had a hard time explaining that concept to the nurse. Oh well.

When the doctor came in, she asked about fever, cough and runny nose. All were answered by no. She then stuck a popsicle stick and a light in my mouth and let out an “Aahhh.”

I was guessing it was some form of immediate strep or something. When she got the swabs out I gathered myself for the pain and gave my chart a gold star for knowing what was going on in my throat

Then she swabbed and said. “This is not strep.”

Boooooooo!

“Well then, what could it be?” I asked – all kinds of nervous.

“It’s a blah-blah-blah ulcer. There is no treatment and it can take a couple of weeks to go away. You should avoid all spicy, crispy, crunchy, crackily foods.”

“So, I’m on a pudding diet?”

No reply.

“How did I get an ulcer? What causes them?”

“Well, it’s caused by stress. A lot of high school kids get them after exams. ”

“High school?!”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m a little past that, but I do have loads of stress.”

“Stress.”

“Cool. Great. So – now I have an ulcer. How about them apples?!”

“Apples would be too acidic.”

“Ugh.”