Two mornings ago the cold air made my nose bleed for the tenth time this winter, this time right as I boarded an express train to the city. I decided that as soon as I was no longer hiding in the nook of the carriage and I’d reached my desk that I was going to see a doctor about the blood noses.
I visited that doctor today, and instead of cauterising the weak spot he decided to first treat it with some antibacterial ointment. This wasn’t going to help me with descriptions for my upcoming post-apocalyptic climate change and cannibalism story, but I guess it was an easy option to try for a week before returning for the fire.
I took my prescription to the pharmacy where the kind pharmacist retrieved the ointment. Then she demonstrated admirably the exact process of peeling down an eyelid and exposing the creamy sclera, before mock rubbing the inside of the lid, and smooshing the imaginary cream over her eyeballs. She blinked dramatically to conclude the application, then she mentioned not to drive for at least thirty minutes afterwards.
I hadn’t heard about the prescription also functioning as an eye cream, and because I initially had to process why I was being shown eye steps, I didn’t have a chance to interrupt this performance before I’d seen the underside of her eyelid and into her soul. I knew then, there was no way to address the fact that she’d exposed herself for nothing, and that I was only going to be sticking the tube up my nose. I muttered, ‘thanks’, and took the box to the checkout.
Sometimes these things happen in life, someone over-shares based on a false assumption and you have no choice but to carry on with this new, undesired information through to the conclusion. Because to admit that they’ve over shared for no reason would only add to the awkwardness.
Then I wondered, maybe Dogs can understand English...