Every Scar Tells a Story - No 1
Scars at the side of my nostrils (my nose is also a bit off-kilter) - stitches from a nose job.
Nose job courtesy of my beloved grandmother during the summer of 1993. J took me home from the hospital after the operation (it was an outpatient procedure and I was awake, although anesthesized. Still, it didn't prevent me from worrying about the opera-singing surgeon's competence, and getting grossed out by the coppery taste of my blood running down my throat, yum 100 calories).
While I was sitting on the couch in our living room, trying to breathe through my bandages, he started playing chase with Ritchie (R.I.P) our dachshund.
Nose job courtesy of my beloved grandmother during the summer of 1993. J took me home from the hospital after the operation (it was an outpatient procedure and I was awake, although anesthesized. Still, it didn't prevent me from worrying about the opera-singing surgeon's competence, and getting grossed out by the coppery taste of my blood running down my throat, yum 100 calories).
While I was sitting on the couch in our living room, trying to breathe through my bandages, he started playing chase with Ritchie (R.I.P) our dachshund.
Run, run, run around the house. J darts this way, Ritchie chases. J runs to living room, Ritchie chases. Mai wonders what the hell the 2 of them are doing.
Mai is getting tired now.
J's still running, Ritchie still chasing.
Mai walks to her room for some rest.
J runs ahead and darts through door to escape Ritchie. J slams door.
On. Her. Nose.
posted by mai at 2:14 am
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