So I went to the allergist. He looked inside my nose and pressed on my sinuses. Then he gave my nose a gentle honk and wiggled it side to side.

“Eh,” he said, handing me my usual stack of prescriptions, and giving my scar another nod of approval. “Not deviated. It’s just really swollen.” My septum isn’t a deviant, after all. It’s just going through a rough few weeks. We all are.

“Oh,” I said. “My baby hit me with a book, I think. And my husband did get a mattress cover so I could rest more comfortably. But the smell was too strong.”

“Memory foam?”

I apologized to my nose, collecting the scrips for antihistamines, steroids, bronchodilators, and needles, and went home.