Last time in Mrs. Gore’s Diary: “However, the pinnacle of all of Gideon’s ailments has come quite recently in the form of the dreaded…the awful…the God-forsaken…nosebleed!!!”
~ Part 2 ~
It was a routine trip to the mall.
My Mom and I, accompanied by Gideon and Rebekah, had been having a jolly old time when we decided to stop in at Baby Gap for some fall merchandise.
And Grandmother had promised my little man a brand new shirt for being such a good boy.
Right off the bat, Gideon spotted a Star Wars t-shirt that he just loved. “Can I try it on?” he asked.
Feeling generous, I said “Sure!” and slipped the t-shirt over his head, noticing as I did that it cost a whopping and ridiculous $22. I made a mental note that this would not be his reward t-shirt, even though he really dearly loved it.
Gideon looked down proudly at the shirt, but then something else caught his glance, a spot on the floor by his foot.
“What’s that?” he asked.
Leaning down, we saw that it was a great big drop of bright red blood.
I looked back at him to find the source, which didn’t take long.
His nose was positively dripping with the stuff.
And then I made a grave mistake. I gasped, I pointed and I exclaimed “Your nose is bleeding!”
I really should know better by now.
My Mom and I started tearing the stroller apart in order to find a napkin, a tissue, a wet wipe, anything to catch the blood, and poor Gideon, unaware before this day that noses had the ability to bleed, began trying to comprehend what was happening to him.
“What?!…” he murmured, as we shoved a napkin from the Great American Cookie Company near his nose to try and stop the flow.
When that napkin had reached its capacity and we pulled it away to replace it with a wet wipe is when my son went into full panic mode; seeing the blood-soaked napkin, he began tap-dancing in place while wailing in shock and despair, “Help me! Help me! Somebody help me!!”
And then, I exaggerate not, across the entire store rang his frantic three-year old voice, “I NEED A DOCTOR!!!”
This sent mom and I into super speed action.
Together, we managed to quickly strip him of the t-shirt, and I picked him up and whisked him away to the bathroom in the back of the store where his nose continued to bleed and he continued to scream and wail for at least ten minutes.
The longest, sweatiest, most horrific ten minutes of my life.
When we emerged, much older, much wiser, and much more cynical, the store was nearly empty, the employees had looks of concern on their faces, and my Mom was in line, purchasing that stupid $22 t-shirt that had the tiniest drop of blood on its very white sleeve.
It was a day I will never…never…forget.
Unfortunately, although his nose has not bled in such superfluous fashion since that fateful day, our dreaded time in that Baby Gap bathroom stemmed the beginning of a series of nasal episodes in our home.
It must be very dry in our house this winter, resulting in dry and uncomfortable noses for all of us. Gideon is driven to distraction by the way his nose feels and has become obsessed with what is going on in there.
To my initial dismay, his Papa taught him to overcome his distraction by stuffing tissues up his nose to help him breath. Mr. Gore swears that it relieves the discomfort and helps you to breath comfortably out of your mouth, but I refuse to even try it!
Gideon, however, has embraced this method with open arms, and if you come across my little “invalid” during naptime, bedtime or when he is in the car (i.e. anytime he is being still enough to realize that he hates how his nose feels), you’ll find tissue hanging out of his nasal passages as he happily rests.
Its like his new pacifier, but instead of making him look like a baby, it makes him look like a very, very old man.
And this weekend, the very afternoon before he crawled into our bed at 4:00 a.m., he experienced his second nosebleed, thankfully in the comfort and privacy of our home.
His Papa took care of this one, but Gideon soon asked for me and came and found me where I was curling my hair in the bathroom. We sat down together in the bathroom floor, him in my lap with his strong little shoulders a bit slumped in defeat, a bloody tissue hanging out of his nose.
He was crying, but in a different way than he did at Baby Gap.
He was sad.
“Are you doing okay?” I asked as I rubbed his back.
“It hurts!” he confided to me, and I knew by the tone of his voice what was coming next…
“It hurts my feelings!”
I had to laugh, not just because he is so darned cute, but because I know exactly how he feels. As the hypochondriacs who inspire him, my Dad and I are deeply offended and perplexed when our bodies rebell on us by bleeding, aching or doing anything that they shouldn’t naturally do.
It does kind of hurt one’s feelings! How Gideon’s nose had the nerve to bleed and hurt his heart like that, I don’t know, but it hurts mine too, by golly.
Allllllll of that to say…early Sunday morning, Gideon crawled into bed with us, a bit fussy, a bit flopsy, and before we could get ready for church, he actually turned out to be a bit sick.
He threw up his orange juice all over my bedroom floor.
And the funny thing is, when he is truly and actually sick, he (kind of) loses the dramatics and just gets plain cuddly and sweet and sort of grown-up, in a way…
I just went to check on him, curled up on the couch watching Little Bear. “How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Too bad.” he said sadly.
“Not too bad?” I asked, thinking he confused the phrase.
“No, TOO bad.” he reiterated.
I should have known.