Something Along the Lines of a Broken Nose

Here's the novel about how I broke my nose. 

We were on vacation. My brother and I were assigned to sleep on the bunk beds that were built into the narrow hallway of the hotel room.

Like classic siblings, my brother and I fought over who should have the top bunk. I called it first, so obviously it was mine. He told me I would fall out or the bed would break and fall on him and he would die. When it was clear I was getting the top bunk, he asked that I refrain from moving at the risk of his life.

The very important backstory: I love to read. To be more specific, I love (and I mean obsessive here) cheesy, historical, Christian-fiction, romance novels. Side effects of me reading these things include and are not limited to: biting off the head of someone who interrupts me or suggests something as ludicrous as a family dinner, emotional instability of every kind (we're talking tears because I can't find a good lamp to read by), the use of phrases and words that don't actually exist within this century ("constitution," as in a person's well-being, is a personal favorite), and most importantly, I don't sleep. I read twelve more chapters than I mean to, and when I finally do bite the bullet and go to bed, I lay there and think for literally hours about those dumb characters that will inevitably get married and have a bunch of kids, but WOW the turmoil to get there is a lot to process.

Well, I got a book for Christmas.

So, l was doing my "one more chapter and then I'll go to bed thing" for three and a half hours, when I finally realized it was 2am. I had family girls brunch in the morning, so I decided I should probably drag my slightly pathetic self to bed. So, I put the book down (it was hard, the heroine was just about to realize she's claustrophobic) and turned off every light. I tried to be quiet as I stuck my hands out in front of me, attempting to feel my way to the wall where my bunk bed existed. I finally hit something that I thought could be it and aimlessly stuck my foot out trying to find the ladder rung. When I missed and realized I was sticking my foot in my brother's face, I started laughing hysterically (I told you, my emotions are not okay when reading) and was holding my mouth shut so hard that I started to tear up. Well, long explanation cut short here, I made it up to my bed by some great miracle. Only here's when the aforementioned effects kick in. 

I couldn't sleep. And I mean my eyes wouldn't shut to save my life. All I could think about were the daggum characters and how they loved each other so much but neither of them admitted it. I spent over a good hour and a half fuming about that alone. It felt like someone was giving me caffeine through an IV. 

Well, I tell you all this to explain why when I was woken up a few hours later, I was completely in a daze. I probably spent a total of 47 minutes asleep due to that stinking book, so when my mother shook my arm to tell me I needed to get ready, my mind was not in a good state. Mistake number one: I didn't go down the ladder backwards like you're supposed to. I don't know why, but I thought it would be easier to just not worry about turning around and just kind of glide down facing forwards. Mistake number two: I didn't exactly look to see if my foot made it onto the top rung of the ladder. Well, the first foot for sure was planted. But when I pulled my other leg to join it and stood up, it all went south. Literally.

I completely missed the rung, lost my balance, and fell face first into the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. Nose first, to be exact. As I hit the wall, I heard a distinctive crack and I'm pretty sure my mouth got a little smooshed as I slid down the rest of the way.

I crumpled to the floor and sat there a second to take that all in. Then, I did a little, "Ahhhhhh" and stumbled into the living room where I dropped to my knees and protectively held my nose. By then, my brother was awake (that probably goes unsaid) and was hollering at my parents. My dad charged into the hallway like I set the place on fire asking me what happened. I had yet to make the decision of crying, so I matter-of-factly stated through my fingers, "I think I broke my nose." I decided to stand up then while I less-calmly told him I missed the ladder and hit the wall. My mother then joined us and a lot of questions started getting thrown at me, and that's when I decided to cry. And my nose hurt. A lot. 

Well, throw in a bunch of dramatics and some upset and concerned parents and I think you get the gist of what happened next. My dad calmed down first and started explaining what to do. He told me we would know pretty quick if it was broken because there would be bruises under my eyes. I took those words and marched straight out to the hotel balcony and stared and cried and refused to go in and look at a mirror for what was probably about five minutes. I eventually got cold and came in to have my mom demanding that I put ice on it and my brother going off into a long soliloquy of how he knew I would do something like this.

Nobody likes missing the ladder and face planting into a wall. Nobody likes hearing mom and brother dearest say, "I told you so." Multiple times. In fact, I'd venture to say people dislike these things very much. In addition, these things should probably never happen one after the other. Well, they did. Safe to say it was not my day.

Anywho, I ducked my head inside the freezer to get the ice, only I forgot to duck on my way out and nailed my head on the top shelf of the freezer door. Thankfully, I was so emotional by then, I started laughing hysterically. I didn't mention the hitting the head thing to mom because I knew I would get another grunt of distress and probably some more words about watching what I'm doing.

Finally, after I had a splitting headache from either the fall or the ice or both, I washed my face to check for the ole bruises under the eyes. Sure enough, my nose had a lovely ring of bluish purple and under my eyes had started looking like I hadn't slept in days. 

I didn't end up going to family girls brunch, mainly because I couldn't stop crying (I still blame that on the book). I did, however, get a little excited because somewhere between the hitting my head thing and checking my eyes I remembered Jennifer Aniston broke her nose and who doesn't want to follow that. But, I would like to point out that it is not nearly as cool to break your nose at twenty years old than if I would have done it at, say age 12. That could be a conversation piece right there. "Back when I was twelve, I blah blah blah and it was this funny thing..." But as it is, I can't use it because let's face it (no pun intended), it sounds absolutely pathetic to say, "Yeah, a couple weeks ago I broke my nose by falling off a bunk bed. I was tired, up late reading, you know how that goes. Yes, as a matter of fact I am twenty. Some would say an adult. But funny story, right?"

So there you have it, people. The story of how I broke my nose just in time for the family Christmas pictures. Only, prepare yourself. My dad told me after further examination that evening, it's probably not really broke. So all that dumb pain and a potentially good story, and it's potentially just a daggum fracture.

But I don't believe it. I'm going to go with it's broke and stick with feeling kind of cool and elite and in pain. The end.