View from the North 40: Smile through the dark days

I don’t mean to be bossy, but you need to sit down, take a few deep breaths and remain calm if you intend to continue reading.

I am, at this very moment on this Friday afternoon of this beautiful fall season, experiencing a major medical crisis.

I have an angry, inflamed pimple on my nose.

Yes, thank you for your sympathy, prayers and good vibes. Believe me, I’m feeling you feeling my pain, and you will never know how much your emotional support means to me in these trying times.

And, yes, skincare professionals are working to stem the growth of the pimple and ensure the condition doesn’t spread to other pores on my olfactory organ.

Of particular concern is reducing the pimple’s inflammation which indicates the presence of fever, possible cell damage and infection. It also draws the eyes of anyone within viewing distance, which can cause a secondary problem researchers call Rudolph Syndrome.

In one psychological study of Rudolph Syndrome, researchers said that the effect of having a pimple on the nose is similar to adding at least one inch of mass to that nose. Certainly, an inch isn’t much, they said, until it’s added to the end of the proboscis in the middle of the patient’s face.

Research subjects said this condition was the psychological equivalent of having a flashing neon sign on one’s forehead declaring “Sideshow Freak Here.”

I am fighting to stay positive to maintain an optimum healing state, but I am human, I struggle with the questions “why me?” and “how could this happen?”

I stick to a simple but strict face-cleaning regimen — twice a day and never, ever, even once, ever going to bed with an unwashed face. And I keep hormones from straying, either in or out, as much as possible in the unfenced wilds of the body. This mean keeping stress to a minimum, which is the only part of my system which has been lacking attention.

Still, one of the keys to overcoming a medical malady like a pimple is early detection and treatment, which, unfortunately, did not happen in this case. It’s my fault. I can’t blame doctors when I don’t take the time to look in a mirror at regularly scheduled intervals in my day. It’s not like I completely avert my eyes from mirrors, but, I don’t know, I just don’t look to look. Y’know?

By the time I noticed it Thursday afternoon, the pimple was as large and red, but I didn’t take it seriously enough. By the end of the day it was as large as Mount Vesuvius, complete with fire-breathing lava inside

It was a fast-growing pimple — my care team has been whispering the term “aggressive” when they think I can’t hear them — and I just, I don’t know, kept doing whatever I was doing until it was too late. Like that other stuff was more important than my health.

I considered taking time off work while I’m in treatment but, in reality, I need to keep myself occupied so I don’t dwell on this tragedy. My co-workers have been good enough to act like nothing is different and I will, forever, be thankful to each and everyone of them for that, though I must be a burden to them when I can’t work at 100 percent.

I am trying to keep this malady in perspective. On my way to work this morning I drove past a father trying to sooth a wailing child and a few blocks later a homeless woman entering an alley, and I thought “One day my life will again be as worry-free as theirs.”

When people try to get maudlin about my prospects, I do my best to brush it off. “Oh, pshh, it’s just a pimple,” I joke. “Who ever died from that?” They’ve been kind enough to laugh with me through our tears.

Hope keeps us strong in trying times.

(My nose is now the poster child for a "Don't neglect your health" campaign at [email protected].)