Falling Apart

I have to admit that this could be it: the best I’ll feel for the rest of my life.

That might sound dramatic, but compared to the thought I had the other day about houseless people and warmth…maybe less so?

What prompted my musing on this age of slow decay?

Well, my toothache last weekend, for sure. Then, the other night I was sitting on my couch watching Mythic Quest (highly recommend!) and casually rubbing my face. Unsurprisingly, I found the usual psychotic puberty-era throwback oily skin. Along with that, though, were these oddly placed patches of dry skin. Not the usual T-zone dry patches…these were weird.

This, mind you, is on top of the still randomly rampant maskne. Why that needs to be hanging in a year after mask mandates dropped, I’m not sure. Probably karma.

Anyway, this new facial geography kinda felt like it would just flick off with a little lift.

So I did.

I don’t know why it made me feel better to accomplish something as small as removing dead skin cells, but there I was. And because the universe is a sonofabitch, there it was.

I’d explored the area under and around my eyes – and then was just kind of tracing the outline of a nostril with my fingernail and found something I’d never have seen. It was right there where the nostril meets the cheek, so the curve of even my unflared nostril would totally obscure it – if it were even visible to my aged eyes.

All thoughts of the randomness of these flaky, dry skin cells completely and instantly disappeared as blood started cascading out of my face.

And that’s only borderline hyperbole.

So, y’know, I get up and go get some tissue, dab it, drop it in the toilet and make my way for the couch.

Oh, no…that’s pure hubris. That fucker bled and bled and bled.

Nothing like these little shaving accidents that throw out a perfect orb of blood and then clot or are satisfied being staunched by a scrap of one-ply TP. No, this was more like – well, have you ever had your ear (the pinna, not the lone) accidentally nicked during a haircut? Yeah, it was like that.

I didn’t entirely rule out bleeding to death.

It took a return trip to the bathroom – I waited this time – applying pressure until the tissue was saturated. I waited during the second application of direct pressure instead of returning to the couch because it wasn’t slowing.

Finally, I opted for a double wad of TP to staunch my not-life-threatening wound and went back to the couch. I finished my episode of Mythic Quest before tentatively removing the pressure.


I mean, sheesh. That was a lot of blood wasted. And wine! Well, not wasted wine, but wine drinking time wasted. Still, I wasn’t going to risk spilling or spoiling my wine, so I waited.

Seriously, though. Should it take 20 minutes for blood to clot? And that’s when it hit me, that this was probably the best I’d ever feel for the rest of my life. I’m sure the best age related physical shenanigannery (Chrisism, boom!)I can expect is massive bruising when I casually bump something.


Falling Apart

7 thoughts on “Falling Apart

  1. My wife is an over ripe banana. She can get a bruise leaning against the counter, being nosed by a dog… However, face things. The problem with strange skin things is the inability to leave them alone. I had this thing on my (receded) hairline. I would scrape it with a fingernail, excavate it with tweezers. It would return. It wasn’t huge, but felt that way. This last visit to the dermo, I told her, look its not that bad, I just won’t stop fucking with it, and it came back after the last freeze. So she cut it off. And biopsied it and it turned out to be nothing but a small tough patch of skin exacerbated by friction. Good. And the fucker’s gone. Note – your face and head bleed like crazy. Ears? Lets not talk disgusting. And yes, everyday over 50, I don’t care what vitamins you take or if you can ride a bike 70 miles a day, sucks a little worse than yesterday.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I freakin’ new it! 😂😂😂
      My dad, who turned 78 two weeks ago, is known for his extreme bruising and random bleeding. He doesn’t even know it’s happening until…blood stalactite! Aging is so curious.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I have passed the age 75 milestone, so can read your post with pleasant nostalgic longings for the days of picking at skin imperfections and fighting to clot the blood. Sometimes the blood turns out to be red wine. So many gems in your posts. I liked “houseless person” in this one.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh, c’mon! You’re only 168 miles away in the glorious PNW! You can’t be trying to say you don’t have the same vernacular?
      Also…you’re so old, shouldn’t you be sleeping? 🥰


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