Living with nosebleeds

“Hey Dad, can we stop at the next gas station? I need to go to the bathroom.” What a lovely way to kill the excitement of a road trip or a long drive to Tahoe. This time, though, I didn’t have to stop to relieve myself; I had to deal with a bloody nose. 

I’ve always had a problem with nosebleeds. I often find myself rudely awakened from a supposedly restful night of sleep by blood spurting from my nose. This ailment has also haunted me at school, where I  constantly wonder whether I have a bloody nose, or just a runny one.

As I’ve grown older, nosebleeds have gradually grown more common. There is always a key warning sign: Every time my body’s temperature increases by a smidge, a nosebleed soon follows. 

I’ve tried everything to reduce the number of nosebleeds I get, from eating foods that supposedly prevent nosebleeds to drinking lots of water, but nothing I’ve done has helped.

As a result, I always make a mental note of the closest bathroom to which I can dash off in case of a nosebleed. And among my friends, my NPW (nosebleeds per week) is far and away the highest. On average, I find myself with a bloody nose no less than three times a week, although that number skyrockets in the summer. 

I’ve learned to avoid making a bloody mess by suppressing the urge to immediately rub my nose the moment it starts itching. Instead, I’ll take deep breaths and get the paper ready. 

I’m hoping my experiences have taught me patience and self-control; improved my reflexes by training me to grab a wad of tissue as soon as possible; or perhaps forced me to exercise by running around to the nearest rest stop to clean up whatever mess I’ve managed to make.

Regardless, I’ve evolved into a nosebleed expert, always carrying another piece of tissue in my back pocket to protect myself and ready to sprint to the restroom at a moment’s notice.