The Dog With No Nose

Hello, Everybody—nice seeing you again.

I have a dayjob at a dog magazine, and when I first started there people kept telling me about the dog with no nose. They said he lived somewhere in the neighborhood of our office, and that occasionally they would see him outside being walked. As an extremely gullible person, I am always a little afraid of being pranked, and for a long while I thought this was probably just some kind of initiation trick, like going to camp as a kid and being sent on a snipe hunt or when the other production staff at the Village Voice used to threaten me with tales of Gauzehead, the dreaded specter of Deadline Doom. I did actually see Gauzehead once, and he was truly terrifying. He also had an uncanny resemblance to Andrea, the drummer for the Fuzztones,
but I’m sure that was just a coincidence.

Anyway, one day I went out for lunch very late, later than usual. I was talking on my cell phone to DJ Amanda, when I saw him—The Dog with No Nose. It is almost impossible to describe what he looks like, because it’s just so wrong. He’s a nice old Golden-Retriever-looking fella who’s missing the top front half of his face. His tongue laps out periodically as if he’s trying to smell things with it like a snake. He shuffles along the street leaving a wake of double-takes and horrified looks from the people he passes. “Omigod!” I hissed into the phone. “It’s The Dog With No Nose!” “Oh, I’ve seen him,” Amanda replied. It turned out she knew all about him, having run into him once when she took her Puli , Dodger, to the Animal Medical Center in Manhattan.

This would seem to confirm some of our office speculation that The Dog With No Nose lost his nose due to some awful accident or maybe an illness, dog nose cancer or something. Dogs are not vain, so the ghastly disfigurement probably doesn’t worry him, but how does he get along without the sense of smell that is so important to dogs? Was his nose removed to save his life, and was that a kindness or not, given the circumstances?

I have been thinking a lot about The Dog With No Nose lately, since my skin cancer’s come back all across the tip of my nose and a little spot on my upper lip. I’m just finishing my fourth week of chemo, and my nose is coming off in hunks. I realize now I’ve always been rather fond of my nose. I stare at it in the mirror and suddenly find it perfectly adorable. I know I’m going to miss it if they have to take it off. Having been through cancer twice before myself, and having been the friend or relative of a number of other people who have had other types of cancers, I know it’s difficult sometimes for well-meaning friends to know what to say or do. Of course, everyone is different in their reaction to serious illness, but here are a few things I’d like my friends to keep in mind, and maybe other folks would find these helpful as well:

1. Please don’t be afraid to ask how I’m doing. I want to know you care about that. But please don’t call me at work and ask for the full report while I’m sitting in a cubicle. E-mail is probably the best way to contact me, because even when I’m home I may be tired or may not feel like talking right that moment about being sick. Send me an e-mail and tell me you’re thinking of me. Tell me I can call you anytime if I feel like talking. Think of something fun we can do together that doesn’t involve my sitting in direct sunshine. Please don’t disappear from my life just because you’re afraid you’ll say the wrong thing. Telling me you care about me is always appropriate.

2. Please be optimistic, but don’t tell me your elderly uncle had skin cancer and the doctor just scraped it off and he was fine. I really hate it when people act like skin cancer is baby beginner training wheels cancer and not the “real thing.” I have already endured being told I was going to lose an eye from this. I have been through two major operations—one took four hours, and the other five hours, and I had to be conscious during both of them while pieces of my face were being removed. The left half of my face is so scarred up it looks like a hippie chick’s patchwork handbag. On the other hand, I don’t want to hear about how many people die from skin cancer every year, either. So this is tricky, I know. Maybe you can just concentrate on how lucky I am to live in New York, where there are so many great doctors to help me. There have been some terrific advances in treatment since I had my surgeries a few years ago--that’s a good thing to keep in mind, too.

3. Make me laugh. Send me a funny card, or a copy of the funniest book you’ve ever read. E-mail me a joke. Send me a DVD of a funny movie. If you’re SURE you know my sense of humor, you can even make jokes about my stupid illness. DJ Kelly told me that if I had to have some of my nose removed, she would donate tissue from her ass to replace it. This made me howl, because she knows her ass is a never-ending source of hilarity to me.

4. IF you can do it honestly, compliment me on some aspect of my appearance. Not only does my face look weird right now, but being sick makes me feel ugly. On the other hand, I’ve recently lost 22 pounds and I look pretty good. I just got a great haircut. Saying something nice would really boost my mood right now, if it’s sincere. We had a small electrical fire in our office last week, and the cutest fireman came to check it out. I said something flirtatious to him, and HE FLIRTED BACK. I can’t tell you how great that made me feel.

5. Pray for me. Scientists and experts have found that other people’s prayers have a positive effect on the recovery of sick people, even if the sick people don’t know they’re being prayed for. So please put in a good word for me with your deity of choice, or just picture me happy and healthy, flirting with some fireman, my adorable little nose intact. I’d really appreciate it.

Thanks for reading my blog entry, and may God bless.
-Bronwyn C.

Comments

[John L]

Hi,

I'm so sorry to hear this but am pleased that you are handling it so well. It is hard to deal with and your approach will be inspirational and instructive to many.

You know so many FMU listeners will be wishing you the best. Me too.

Take care,

Lipwak

[listener_paul]

I'm sorry to hear your cancer is back. Been a fan for a long time, ever since I heard you talking about the Ranters on the radio while I was writing a paper on Abiezer Coppe. I am sending you my best wishes and prayers.

[allan]

Jeezus, this is the third cancer story i've heard about today...first my boss (thyroid), then bob moog (brain) and now this.

I've always wondered how much more prevalent cancer is in these days then say two hundred years ago. I know people living longer would naturally increase the odds but I have this nagging suspicion that we're doing things to ourselves through our environment and what we eat/drink/smoke that it negates it. But I'm no scientist or expert.

Take care...

[JT]

That sucks. My wife has had cancer. She's free for now, which is good because if it comes back, it's double plus ungood. We also had extremely premature identical triplets at the same, lost one, two are doing great.

So I really appreciate your How To Help rules. Because until this stuff happened to me, I didn't have a clue.

I'll add my own take on the above.

First, don't be afraid to ask. But someone under that much stress might not have time for you at the moment, and don't be offended if they aren't up to rehashing the bad news for the umpteenth time. If you are very close to the person in question, they might appreciate it if you spread the news for them to others you know in common - ask if you can tell so and so for them, and accept the answer.

Two: don't tell someone how lucky or unlucky they are. They know, or are figuring it out. You probably don't. Like "Wow, triplets, what a blessing". Not if they're all going to die and your wife has cancer and you can't have more babies. "Oh, that's terrible, I'm sure you'll love them even though they turned out like this". Well, thank you very much but I'm still hoping they'll turn out fine.

Three, don't ask how you can help. Just do it, or, where appropriate, just offer something appropriate to the situation. "You've had a terrible week. Can I bring you dinner." "So you're going to get some tests next week. Would you like me to come with you?" Do anything you really know will help and be appreciated, no matter how small. There were times when we were so overwhelmed that having someone take out the garbage was like having a vacation. "What can I do to help - oh, sorry, I'm playing tennis today" - not so helpful.

Four, the best kind of support you can give is "this is normal now" and "you're doing great." If the person this is happening to is consoling you, you're doing it wrong. If you're talking about how it's getting to them, you'd better be offering them some relief. You look terrible" should really be followed by "give me your grocery list and take a nap". Also nice: "you look fine - just come to the beach. you've got scars - i'm fat and scars are cool. let's go."

Five, pray for them. They need it. People do get fuel from positive support. If you're a hardcore atheist, think of it this way; you are training yourself to make them feel better when you interact with them, even remotely or second hand, and by expressing your sympathy for their situation, you are making an important connection with your own feelings about it. And if you aren't honest with yourself about how you feel, your interactions with that person will be clouded by these feelings you can't confront, and your behavior won't be what it should.

Finally, I wish you the best, Bronwyn. I remember hearing you talk about your cancer before my wife got hers, and I remembered your honesty and candor about it when it happened to us. This is the first thing in a long time I've read that's made me cry. As you know, the only thing to do is let the disappointments be what they are and keep going. You already know you have the strength to do that because you've come this far already. It's turtles, all the way down: whatever happens, you've already confronted mortality and so no matter what happens, it's pretty much about going on like you are now. I'll say a prayer for you.

[Listener Bob]

Miss Bronwyn,
I hope and pray that all goes well for you. My best wishes go out to you & Sluggo.
Miss you a lot,
Listener Bob

[matty]

awww, yr still cute, Bronwyn. i lost the vision in my one eye. not so bad. just can't catch any baseballs.

[Listener Mark]

You've given me years of pleasure through your various radio shows, the least I can do is offer to help with #5 and dedicate my meditations to you this week. Hope you're feeling better and best wishes.

[amanda]

I think Kelly should give some of her Ass to the Dog With No Nose.

(P.S. Though he looks freaky, the Dog With No Nose always looks like he's smiling, in a freaky No-Nose way. That counts for something, don't you think? That counts for a lot.)

[peedee]

I was sitting at the reception desk and hurting from my allergies when this woman in our office went by and asked how I was doing. I told her that my allergies were acting up. She said that that is one thing she has not had a problem with.

I admire this woman so very much as she has had both breasts removed from cancer and then had a hysterectomy after that. She always has a smile on her face. She never seems to let things get her down.

I guess it is all in how you look at it. Most people not having dealt with some of these issues we have, have no idea what to say or do and it is only when it happens to you that it makes you realize what others have been living with for so long.

I am totally disabled for four years from a messed up spinal fusion surgery and I live with chronic pain and it took me a long long time to not let the comments from others who do not understand bother me.

If you can learn to laugh about things and not take the cancer seriously most of the time, you will do very well. I had to learn how to live with constant pain and I can laugh again and have a very sedate life now, but I learn to do things differently and I don't take most things so seriously.

I will pray for you that you have a full and speedy recovery. Remember when things get so bad, to stop and take stock of the good things in your life and maybe it will make you happy again.

Peedee

[mara chui]

Greetings,

Hi, What an Idea! Thank you for sharing this posted article for me or for every one,
you made a great job for your Blog.Keep it up the good work..
Again thank you very much.. Cheers

Best Regards,
Mara Chui
Sport Dog Collar