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Published:September 12th, 2009 17:52 EST
Mark Freedman's "The Hole in My Nose"

Mark Freedman's "The Hole in My Nose"

By Mark Freedman

Some people dream of wealth, some people dream of happiness, I dream of a septum without a hole through it.......

This would be a sad story, but I am sure you will find it funny. You see, a long time ago I was born into this world with a nose and two nostrils! I could smell the sea from the shore, I could smell the candy in the store and I could smell my feet after pop Warner football. (on a side note, I was a very good little football player. Aside from always slanting to the right in "the three point stance" due to my right arm being shorter than my left, I would be compared to the great Water Boy.) Anyway this is not about my deformed arm. It is a story about my nose. I think it may have started off as a normal hobby, but little by little I worked my fingers into that wall of steal. ...................

Below is a section of my book "The Big Apple and Little Oranges". It is when I first noticed the hole through my nose while incarcerated with a cell mate in San Diego County Jail for stealing a computer from my Uncle`s house.

I sat there staring at pictures of Cristina Aguilera. She was wearing a swim suit that was more similar to a piece of yarn than a swim suit. She stared at me, and I stared at her. It was a never ending staring contest. Well since she would not stop looking at me I looked at a picture of some else on another part of the wall. This woman was a lot prettier and more captivating. In the silence I heard a little whistle. I breathed in through my nose and the whistle was more noticeable now. I breathed even harder and the whistle almost seemed to sound like a referee whistle. Why on earth was my nose whistling? I thought.


            What is that noise? " David called from below. He was a little annoyed but innocently annoyed not aggressively angered. In the silence the whistle continued. I was slightly uncomfortable having my nose whistle. It even had a funny feeling to the inside of it. I put my finger inside my nose to see what the matter was and that`s when I learned that there were two very tiny holes on each side of my septum.


            Over time in the course of my twenty years of living I had picked my nose so much that I picked all the way through my septum. I had done it so much that I didn`t even notice that I was doing it and I had no idea I was digging a small tunnel through my nose. This annoyed me greatly. I did not want to have a whistling nose, especially during long quiet nights in this cell with a man sleeping below me.


            I picked up an orange from behind my head that I had saved from earlier and tossed it up and down to distract myself from this new found nose talent. Something must have caught my attention because as the orange came back down I missed the catch by a few inches and the orange went falling down below, and onto David`s head.


            What the hell? " he asked. What are you doing up there? " I just laughed and told him about my nose and how it wouldn`t stop whistling. He thought I was a nut or something and went back to reading his novel.


            I too, was reading a book, one of the ten books that I read in jail. Actually it was one of ten books I had read in my whole entire life. The one in which I was reading at the time of my nose whistling was called: Into Thin Air " a true story about Mt. Everest. Reading really helped me get my mind off missing the world. I drifted into my own world of imagination and suspense. It was very therapeutic.

            Well I couldn`t fall asleep for half the night. My nose kept whistling and David continued snoring. It was a nightmare. The louder my whistle became the louder his snoring grew.


            I must have stayed up all night with little pieces of toilet paper in my nose to mute the whistle. It felt weird but it made such a huge difference. I really had to stop picking my nose. It would only get worse over time, I was sure of it.........

(A few days later)

 Well my nose was whistling again and this was before I learned how to control it. I felt really uncomfortable one night and called to be taken to the nurse`s office. If its one thing the jail doesn`t need, it is an over excited bipolar Jew who has a nose that whistles.


            They walked me to the nurse in the middle of the night. I sat on a little table with my legs dangling into the air. I was touching everything I could reach. I tried to steal some rubber gloves but then gave up because I found something else to play with. I was handcuffed to the rail of the table which limited my movement. Dad Gummit " I thought to myself.


            The nurse came in and she did not look to happy. It was the middle of the night. I was complaining that there was a hole in my nose. Do you see how retarded that sounded? I was telling them that there was a hole in my nose. Everyone has a hole in their nose.


            You do? " she said in an irritated voice. Is it your nostril? " She said even more agitated. I explained to her that my nose was whistling. I had picked it so much that I made a little whole in the septum, but when I tried to show her what I was talking about; no whistle came out at all. I tried and tried but the more I tried the more I failed. I could not make my nose whistle no matter how hard I tried. She even looked in my nose with a tiny scope and could not even see the holes.


This was six years ago. The hole is twice as big and now I am starting to worry....