My nose was broken in a plane crash. Actually, not so much “broken” as “smashed across my face with so much ingested blood that there were fears of internal bleeding” (consistent with lower chest pain, which x-rays found were “just” broken ribs).

My mother (senior RN at the time) gave a piece of her mind to the doctor who worked on me for doing a so-so job. Doctor: “You should have seen what I had to work with!”

My nose is still asymmetrical and has a scar on one side, but you don’t notice unless you look. I don’t think. Waitasec.

[ME: Did you notice my nose is asymmetrical when you met me?
DEB: You mean, like, the instant I met you? No. Or, like, well before we got married? Oh yeah! It’s kinda obvious.]

Getting a better nose never occurred to me.