It has been threatening for a couple of minutes: a tickle, then finally, a sharp intake of breath, and it arrives loudly. My knees buckle and I actually fall into the kid’s sand pit.
I ‘m not stunned, just left musing over the capacity of sneezing to achieve such spectacular results. I crawl across to the outdoor furnishings, continuing to contemplate, to analyse the various components that have combined to deliver such a trumpeting!
They’re now always directed into my elbow, but at that moment, immediately before delivery, there is a quite sensory anticipation. Somewhere near the junction of my nostrils and throat, there’s a ‘zing’, a tingling. Then there is an involuntary instruction, a ‘… load your gun…’ sort of moment, a sharp intake of breath and then the explosive, almost nuclear venting: – ‘atishoo’.
There is quite a euphoric moment following the sneeze, an exhilaration! How strange to find emotional satisfaction from such a mundane, bodily function!
I share my observational musing with Gale. She pauses, holding her needles firmly together as she looks up. “That might be so, but it is just one of your many bodily clamours that I have been hearing over the decades.” She smirks as the needles recommence the production of another winter-warmer for one of the grandkids. “Don’t forget to consider your Richter-scaled burps?”
That really got me thinking. Yes, I admit to some degree of satisfaction at the end of a meal, to gather my stomach muscles and release a little excess gas! And sometimes, just occasionally, things go south! But surely, we’re all just human?
The knitting is paused. “I’ve been listening to your bodily-induced noises for thirty-five years. While you may believe the ground rules applying in China, Uzbekistan or wherever are acceptable here in suburban Melbourne, you’re wrong. Your oafish approach to these issues has long ago defined many of your relationships. “
“I have been turning my hearing aids off at meal times, and I certainly don’t wear them in the bedroom!” Gale is on a roll. “The kids have both become inured to hearing your body’s functional clatter, but have you noticed how rarely they come round for dinner nowadays? Have you noted that Barry and Jeanette no longer pop over from next door for a barbecue?”
Those last comments hit me like a sledgehammer. Oh my God, it’s been months since Carmel and the kids came for dinner, and I have only waved at Barry from a distance! Me: oafish? Hang on. The odd burp, a tummy-rumble, maybe even an occasional bum-toot slips out, but me, oafish?
I wander further into the backyard. Unconsciously, I check myself, constrain muscles as I walk. Gale’s right!
The doctor talks about air intake, eating and drinking habits, and discretion when in company. I consciously change my ways.
It has now been three months since Gale’s outpouring. Few, if any, public indiscretions have escaped, and Gail is wearing her aids. We are also back to lively mealtime chatter.