Nosebleeds and the Soul-Crushing Shoes

As a kid there was a period when I would get nosebleeds about every other day. It was kind of cool in the sense that I got out of class all the time, but bad because I was, you know, bleeding. I might have spent more time in the nurse’s office than learning my ABC’s. Maybe that’s why I’m so bad at alphabetizing things…

But in my most outstanding nosebleed story, I do not do the bleeding.

The day was bad from the start. I was in kindergarten, sporting a recent bowl-ish haircut that made me look like a boy. My mom had also forced me into a pair of hideous brown loafers, which she insisted were “VERY stylish!” and told me “How GOOD you look today!” The haircut was bad, but since I couldn’t see my own face, I could deal. The shoes, though, killed me. Stiff, uncomfortable, big, and fugly, I went to school and refused to talk with anyone. I sat alone, wallowing in misery and scared that the other kids would poke fun. My only hope was recess: to run and climb on the huge wooden playground, and ride the tire swing until I puked! But before I had even begun to play, recess was ruined. I was running, only to find myself face-down in the pebbles on the ground. My shoes! Still on my feet, but shoelace-less! What? These things were like big, stupid boats on my feet, hindering any attempt I made to move. My spirit was crushed. I sat in the highest tower for the rest of recess.

At long last, it was time to go home. I was elated, PLUS my mom had come with my baby sister to walk me home! We were walking up a gravel path, when I said I would carry my sister for a while, just for fun. I seized her under her arms and lugged – but I hadn’t banked on her enormous amount of baby fat. Refusing to admit that she was too much for me to handle, I tottered a few steps, and then felt those dumb shoes trip over each other. I lost balance, and dropped my sister face down in the gravel with a plop. I wanted to snigger, “Gosh, you’re HUGE!” Then she picked up her face from the ground. It was contorted with pain and streaming with tears, with blood shooting spectacularly from her nose. She started to wail. My mom tried in vain to stem the flow with a pack of tissues, all the while yelling at me and thanking the crossing guard for offering more tissues. My little snigger evaporated in an instance.

Stupid shoes.

Nosebleeds: They Can Be Surprisingly Convenient

It was happening again. I could feel the first warning signs: the cool trickling sensation, the light metallic taste in my mouth which I knew would grow stronger, and the fact that my friend was pointing at my nose and backing away from me. Within seconds, my nosebleed began in full flow, with blood gushing down my nostrils and me trying futilely to block it with my hands. I tipped my head back, pinched my nostrils, and raised my hand to get the attention of my gym teacher.

“Not again!”, he said exasperatedly, “All right, leave your stuff here, someone will grab it for you, and go to the nurses office.”
I complied with the first order he gave me, but I never went to the nurses office. I had a strange dislike of the nurses office, and avoided it at all costs. Each time I had a nosebleed, I would sneak into the nearest bathroom and stay there until the bleeding had subsided. This particular incident occurred years ago, back when I was in second grade. However, this aversion to the nurse's office followed me even until last year, where I regurgitated (to put it lightly) everything out of my stomach during my third period English class. I would’ve preferred to just stick it out in the bathroom, but I was foiled by my English teacher, who told me the nurse's office was expecting me, so I had no choice but to go.

Nosebleeds plagued me throughout my second year of elementary school, and no one seemed to be able to find a reason for them. My mom attributed it to frequent dryness, and my sister…..well, she like to tell everyone in the vicinity that extensive picking in the nose area had caused the nosebleeds. Personally, however, I really didn’t know why they happened, just that they happened during convenient times. For instance, my second grade PE classes used to be split between a big gym and a smaller gym, and we were in the big gym about once every two weeks. The big gym PE classes were taught by a different teacher, a rather intimidating man, or so I thought at the time. I hated PE classes in the big gym for some reason, and every time we had class there, a blood vessel or something would break in my nose, and bam. Just like that, a nosebleed would start, and rescue me from thirty five minutes of physical education in the big gym.