Here’s a picture of my sister Charlotte from about 1960. I was born in April of that year, I guess she didn’t realize what a babysitting burden I would become.
When I was in high school, I broke my nose (It was a girl-watching accident, long story. My gym coach laughed at me.)
Charlotte picked me up at school in her GTO convertible and took me to see Dr. Vukov. That car was beautiful. It almost made up for having to wear a metal splint on my schnozz for weeks on end, as I recall.
I was going to be casually reading a magazine on the couch when mom got home, and see how long it would take her to notice the splint (Probably a week.) But my sister Evelyn spoiled it by running down the sidewalk to intercept with “JohnBrokeHisNoseInGymClassAndCharlotteHadtoDriveAllTheWayDownHereFromFederalWayAndTakeHimToDrVukovAndNowThereIsAMetalThingOnHisNoseItsHilarious!!!” and mom was all tired and does not need this shit.
My way would have been kinder.