The Nose Knows

Written By: LJ

(A DP Philosophy question posted on our WL Group: Have you ever had trouble getting your Brat to follow the doctor’s orders?)


Hello, it’s Dennis Taylor here.

My youngest Brat had been suffering with a chronic cough for several weeks. Our family doctor was unable to pinpoint the cause, so he referred Skyy to an ear, nose and throat specialist. The procedure Skyy will have to undergo involves a small tube being inserted into his nose and down his throat. He’ll be given a mild sedative to relax him and a local anaesthetic to ease the insertion. In preparation for this, Dominic insists Skyy start a course of action to keep his nose passages clear and lubricated.

Rather than face the situation head-on and act accordingly, Skyy is choosing to ignore the whole thing. Four days after his visit to Dominic, I was still reminding him to pick up the medication prescribed. Guess who has finally ended up procuring the nasal mist and gel at the pharmacy? That’s right! Yours truly!

Arriving home before either of my partners, I began supper preparations. I had the meal made and the table set by the time I heard them pull into the driveway. I smiled at their enthusiastic greetings of each other and cringed as the door slammed behind them. I realize I should be accustomed to any noise that accompanies their exuberance, but such is not the case.

We were almost finished our dinner when I brought up the subject.

“Skyy, any chance of you having stopped by the drugstore on your way home?”

“Huh? Darn, I guess I forgot again, Den.” He wasn’t in the least remorseful.

“I suspected as much, which is why I did.” I saw Dusty cover a grin with his hand.

“How could you? I still have the prescription in my jacket pocket.”

“No, what you have is the slip of paper listing the things you need and instructions on their use. Both items are available over the counter.”

“Well I think that’s downright sneaky!” he complained.

“And I think you forgetting to pick up the medicine Dominic told you to get, is sneaky.”

“Really? And here I thought I was blatantly dropping a hint,” he smirked up at me. “I don’t wanna shove anything up my nose, Den.”

“You don’t have to shove it up your nose, Sport. You only have to squirt it.”

“I don’t wanna do that either!” he griped. “I was taught never to put foreign substances in your nose. I remember a kid at school putting a piece of chalk in his nose. He couldn’t get it out and was sent to the nurse’s office.”

“One guy in my class got a marble stuck up his nose,” Dusty merrily informed us.

“Wow! How did he get something that big in his nose, D?”

“How old was the kid you’re talking about, Skyy?”

“I don’t know; seven or eight maybe.”

“Add another ten years; we were in senior high at the time and PJ had a huge nose, probably from putting things in it.” Both my Brats found that hilarious. “It involved a trip to the ER. Man, was his old man ever pissed off!” Dusty added between hoots of laughter. “At least he didn’t pick it.”

“Dustin, we eating supper!” I scolded in hopes of them changing the subject.

“But old Pick-n-Flick does.” Skyy apparently decided to ignore my subtle suggestion. “Wanna hear something else really gross?”

“No, we don’t! We are still at the dinner table, Skyylar,” I firmly pointed out. “And I’ve told you before about referring to Professor McGoogan by that repulsive nickname.”

“Okay, Den. Sorry.” My youngest Brat leaned across the table and promised in a loud whisper. “I’ll tell you while we’re doing the dishes, D.”

“Good idea, Buddy.”

With the meal over, I left them cleaning the kitchen and retired to my study to answer a few e-mails. I returned fifteen minutes later in time to hear Dusty remind Skyy of his promise. Trust me, it doesn’t bear repeating no matter how funny those partners of mine found it.

“That is gross! No wonder bugs in his beer never phased the fat bastard,” Dusty chuckled as he hung up the wet dishtowels.

I waited for them to stop laughing before summoning Skyy. “Come sit down, Sport.”

Skyy sat next to me on the sofa and suspiciously eyed the package I placed on the coffee table. He glanced up at Dusty who had thrown himself into the armchair, and silently pleaded for support.

I removed the first article and held it up. “Skyy, Dominic says you have to use this three times a day.” I attempted to hand it to him but he backed away. I reached over and pulled him onto my lap. “Either you do it yourself or I’ll do it for you,” I told him.

“I’m not stickin’ that thing in my nose, Den!”

Taking matters into my own hands, I broke the seal on the small plastic bottle of nasal saline spray and unscrewed the cap. I wrapped one hand around the back of his neck and lifted the bottle. I just had it positioned properly when he jerked away.

I put the bottle down and landed a sharp smack to the seat of his pants. “Settle down, Skyy. This is not going to hurt you.” He pouted and rubbed at the sting on his backside while allowing me to do what had to be done.

“There!” I stated somewhat victoriously, putting the cap back on.

“Ha!” he exclaimed with a ring of satisfaction. “It didn’t even work!”

“Yes it did, Sport,”

“Oh yeah; then why didn’t I feel anything?” he inquired cheekily.

His question raised concerns as to what he had been expecting. “What did you think was going to happen, baby?”

“Something like a stream of water squirting up my nose and down the back of my throat.” I felt the slight shuddered that accompanied his answer.

“This is a nasal mist, honey, not a water pistol.”
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“Or a garden hose!” Dusty jokingly added. The glare I sent my oldest Brat’s way probability would have been more effective if Skyy hadn’t been laughing along with him.

“Hey, this is all right then. I can do it myself, Den,” Skyy proudly announced, taking the bottle from me and getting to his feet.

“Wait a minute, Sport. Don’t forget this.” I handed him the second item from the bag.

“Secaris; lubricating nasal gel. Hmmm.” He read the direction on the side of the box. “Man, this will be a cinch. I only have to rub some on my nose to prevent dryness.”

“Read it again, Skyy. The instructions say to be applied into each nostril and you’re going to need some Q-tips.”

“No way! This is enough!” he stated, brandishing the small container of mist. “I am not putting anything else up my nose!” He threw the box down on the table and ran up to our bedroom, taking the stairs two at a time.

I leaned my head back on the sofa, looked upward and prayed for patience. “Here we go again,” I muttered as I got to my feet, picked up the gel and determinedly followed my Brat up the stairs. Dusty’s hoots of laughter followed me.

************

Epilogue: The visit to the specialist went off without a hitch. Skyy sailed through it all without a murmur. I was expecting a knockdown, dragged-out fight on my hands. To say I was surprised when it didn’t happen would be an understatement. I firmly believe Skyy keeps me young, but I doubt I’ll live long enough to figure him out. I never know what he is going to do next or how he is going to react in any given situation.

The End