You're Hooked on WHAT?

           The other day I was at lunch with a couple of friends, and one of them happened to mention her first date with her husband. Turns out they decided to go boating in canoe, truly a romantic first date. The river was sparkling blue and a gentle breeze helped guide them along. 

Then, as they went under a bridge, a fishing line was hanging there, and the fish hook snagged her nose!

          What are the odds of this? First, you have someone sitting on the bridge, who knows when, who loses their line. But wait—the line miraculously gets stuck and doesn’t fall all the way into the water.  But wait—it manages to dangle its hook exactly at the height a person’s nose could be, if they were floating by in a canoe underneath. And then the boat is lined up perfectly. Folks, you couldn’t do this if you tried 1,000 times.

          My poor friend had to go back to her home with her date, as he carefully removed the hook from her nostril, and dabbed her nose with alcohol. Some of you (and you know who you are) would be crying and screaming at the same time, right?

          As we left our lunch area, they mentioned the overly chatty woman sitting next to us, dining by herself, yet jumping into our conversation as well. My friend mumbled something, and I thought she said, “Better than having a bishop in your nose.” (Well, we’re all LDS so we actually do have a bishop.)

          “What did you say—having a bishop in your nose?” I asked.

          “No, a fish hook,” she reminded me.

          “Oh, yes,” I agreed. “That’s much better than having a bishop in your nose.”

          And that’s when I realized I might be just a teensy bit like autocorrect. Sheesh!

Have you joined the 10K other subscribers to my Youtube Mom channel, yet? Enjoy hundreds of quick life hacks right here, although none of them are about fish hooks.

Well, the Nerve!

          Have you ever slapped yourself silly? (Or, in my case, maybe I was silly to begin with). Here’s the deal:

          I had skin cancer removed from my nose, then laser to reduce the redness. After all, I’m enough of a bozo already—I don’t need to look like him.

          But here’s where the plot thickens: As your nerve endings heal, they tingle. Not a lot, just enough to feel as if there’s some lint, or a hair on your face. Or, in this case, on your nose.

         So everywhere I go, I feel as if I need to brush something from the top and tip of my nose. So I’m brushing and slapping away, but it remains. And then I realize: Oh. It’s not a hair. It’s nerve endings re-awakening.

          So if you see a women socking herself in the face, it’s probably me.

          Have you subscribed to my Youtube Mom videos, yet? I just need a dozen more to hit the 10K mark!  Take pity on my rosy-nosed self and help me pleeease?

Laser Focus on This, Will You?

           You know those guys who have a white beard all year so they can play Santa?

          Well, I must be hoping to play Rudolph, because I’ve had a red nose since my MOHS skin cancer surgery 6 years ago.

          It’s become redder and redder, so I finally decided to get laser treatment. The doctor couldn’t have been kinder, smarter, or faster (you know I like fast).

          “I can do it right now,” she said. “It will feel like the snap of a rubber band.”

          THIS WAS THE UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE CENTURY.  It did not feel like a rubber band. More like a marching band.  Seriously, it felt like sticking your nose into a wasp’s nest. And we have to admit, the stings would serve you right. 

          I nearly jumped out of my chair. She had to tell me to stop holding my breath. The pain was excruciating, but then you know I have big baby nerve endings, and even sipping a soda feels too prickly to me.

          Finally a cold pack came, then a cooling cream, and I was on my way home. I should expect two or three weeks of keeping gel on it and avoiding the public.

But I did not actually plan for this procedure today, because right now I have a dental appointment, followed by a temple appointment. Then tomorrow a bone scan, visitors, then a dinner engagement with another couple. And on the third day I’m delivering a meal to someone in the church, followed by a big party for the women that night.

On it goes, swollen nose, oh such woes, to my toes, no photos, I must close.

But, lucky you, you can sit and enjoy life hacks on my Youtube Mom videos. By the way, I’m trying to get 10K subscribers, so please sign up and tell your friends to do the same. 😊

Who Nose?

           A friend of mine stopped by to visit, and told me she had a “Joni Moment” this week.

          Aha, I thought, time to find out just what that means. Does it mean she thought of a brilliant invention, a life-saving device, a solution to the world’s woes?

          Of course not. She accidentally brushed eyeliner on the end of her nose. She was switching from one eye to the other, got too close, and brushed a wide swath of black on the tip of her nose.

          Mind you, I am sitting there with my own black splotch on the end of my nose. But mine is a scar repair-- from skin cancer--  with stitches, and looks like a little spider with turquoise legs (the thread). I am told to put Vaseline on it twice a day, and that’s how we know it isn’t an actual spider, because it just holds still for this.

          I sighed. I also remembered that whenever I get a hot flash and pick up a fan to wave it, I smack my nose with it.

          So, if you see me sporting a black spot on the end of my nose, you need not worry that I smudged my makeup. I merely had my unicorn horn smoothed out.

          See if you can see it on my Youtube Mom life hack videos right here.

         

Warm Heart, Cold Nose?

         Lots of people have cold hands, right? I have a more canine situation. My nose gets icy cold. If I go to bed before my nose warms up, it’s so cold I can’t fall asleep.

          Here are my remedies, in case any of you suffer from what is undoubtedly a sign of great character:

1.      Wear a Covid mask. You won’t get much oxygen, but your nose will be warm.

2.     Rub your nose to increase circulation. It probably won’t work and your nose may turn red. Also, now your fingers might get cold.

3.     Hide under the covers until your nose warms up. See the side-effect of remedy #1.

So the other night I was under the covers, complaining with a muffled voice that I couldn’t breathe, when St. Bob suggested what he thought was a perfect solution: A SNORKEL.

And there is no photo here, because NO ONE ELSE WOULD THINK OF ANYTHING SO RIDICULOUS.

Yes, folks, that is the kind of brilliance you can always find in Joniopolis. Just dial 1-800-Imarriedacomedian.

Traces of his personality also show up in several of my characters. You can find all my books right here.

Like Adding Gasoline to the Fire

          Well, it had to happen. With all this social distancing, we’re texting and Zooming more than ever.  And this means the odds of sending a message before reviewing it have just gone up. You guessed it—we’ve added another dreadful auto-correct problem to our arsenal of embarrassing tech moments.

          This time Bob was dictating a text to his doctor’s office about a basal-cell spot on the side of his nose. And here is what they read:

          “I’m keeping gasoline on it for comfort.”

          Yep, and you thought you’d heard every old wives’ tale about cures and remedies.

          No sooner had he sent it along than he read it, cringed, and called the office where a woman, laughing hysterically, answered the phone. He explained  that he meant Vaseline and she understood.

          But I’m still betting that text went viral.

In between reading my books, check out this blog post about another horrendous text Bob sent to a law enforcement officer. But of course.

A Bandage a Day...

          I think we can all agree that police tape has at least one use.  But now I’m thinking it can be re-purposed to wrap me up after all my recent surgeries.

          Seriously, I’ve had 3 things within 3 weeks.  First, right before Christmas, I went under anesthetic again so we could repair the incision from my recent breast cancer surgery, which didn't hold. I say “we” but I had nothing to do with it. Then we (again, the royal “we”) sanded my nose.

          “What?!” you say? Yes, I had basal cell cancer on the tip—of course the tip because evidently I’m part unicorn—and the stitches came out on that one, too. So it healed all lumpy and on Dec. 31^st we had dermabrasion to smooth it out and now I am again wearing a big, beautiful bandage in the center of my face. Hey, you celebrate New Years’ your way, I’ll do it my way.

          And THEN, because we just can’t get enough anesthetic, we had my arm pit lymph nodes removed on January 2nd. Each of these breast deals comes with a drain. I’m telling you, I have more port holes than a ship!

          And yet another bandage.  So, since there’s no tape that says, “Don’t Look Here” I’m thinking police tape could cover me nicely and accomplish the goal of keeping doctors away.  Certainly better than an apple, right?

To  see me without bandages, check out my YouTubeMom videos. Scroll through-- there are hundreds on my channel, and it’s a great way to spend a wintry afternoon!

Looking for Hay in a Needle Stack

           Here’s how my kids react to medical procedures.  First, the back story: Last week I had another breast biopsy and blood work, then because I am a glutton for punishment I had my MOHS skin cancer surgery on my nose the following morning.

          I asked if I could bring St. Bob in for the biopsy but they said no. I explained that he’s my emotional comfort animal. They still said no. (I may have to get him a vest.) Finally they bandaged me up, put me on ice, and sent me home. (No photo of the breast, thank you.)

 Then the next morning I arrived at another office at 7:45 for more blood work and to have my nose deadened with approximately two thousand needles before having a portion of it removed. Between this and the breast biopsy I feel like an organ donor who isn’t even dead, yet. This isn't me, but you get the idea:

In the middle of it all, I texted my boys to give them an update (our daughter was there already). Here is the exact thread of the text:

Cassidy: That’s great to hear, good luck with the procedure today!

Richie: 10/10 update.  Would read again.

Me: Your text looks like it’s the 10^th part of something.  Can you resend?

Richie: Nope, I was just rating it a 10 out of 10.

Cassidy: I’m screenshotting this.

Me: Ha ha!  I’m sitting here with a bandaged nose and I needed that laugh. (Then later, after surgery) Well, this morning they only had to do one scraping, so that’s good. But I have an incision from the bridge of my nose to its base. I have to wear a pressure bandage so I look like an elephant but hopefully I’ll be doing better soon. She told me no yoga, no strenuous exercise, no brisk walks. I told her she was describing my current lifestyle, so no problem.

Brandon: Ha, you were made to recover from nose surgery!

Richie: I can’t help but wonder what exactly the doc is worried will happen if you suddenly take up yoga.

Brandon: It could explode.

Me: That is exactly my fear and why I have never done it before.

Brandon: Yoga nose.  That’s what happened to Michael Jackson.

Me: I knew it! Sometimes the answer is right under your, uh, nose.

Brandon: The first recorded example was the Sphynx.

Me: And see? He’s sitting there doing that doggie pose. Or cat pose.

So there you have it, folks.  Brilliant medical analysis, and all at the click of a button.  (You can also buy my books with the click of a button right here.)

Who Nose?

          Doggone it, I’ve got skin cancer on the tip of my nose!  A couple of weeks ago I went in for a biopsy of a tiny little bump that looked like a blister. I thought I might be turning into a unicorn or a narwhal. A friend from church said I’d probably just had my nose to the grindstone. Naturally St. Bob suggested that I’ve been lying a lot.

          The biopsy left me wearing a little Bandaid for a month.  Bob said to tell everyone I’ve enrolled in clown school, and then say, “Did you know there’s a thumb tack in those red noses?”

          Son Brandon was completely perplexed.  “Skin cancer? You? That would be like hearing you have cirrhosis of the liver.”  Indeed. I am not only the last person who would want a drink, but the last who would lie in the sun or forget my sunscreen.

          But now the results are in, and I’ll have to have surgery. Of course, since I wrote a musical comedy about Bob’s prostate cancer, he says now he needs to write a musical about my nose.  “I could totally do the lyrics for that,” I said. “Do you have any idea how many words rhyme with nose?” 

          And of course when I texted the result to the kids, autocorrect chose the word “basil sale” instead of “basal cell,” and even offered a lovely emoji of the herb.  That’s right, I’m growing basil on the tip of my nose.  You’ve heard of hydroponics, right? How about sinus-ponics?

          All I know is that the next time I’m tempted to say, “It’s no skin off my nose,” I’ll stop and think.  Oh, yeah.  It is.

Stay inside, out of the sun, and read my books!  You can find them all right here.