Extraction
Corrine had been picking her nose off and on for the past 10 minutes.
"Corrine, don't pick your nose. Go to the bathroom and get some tissue," I said.
So she went to the bathroom and promptly came back.
"There's something in my nose, and I can't get it out," she informed me.
"You can't get it out? What is it? Did you put something in your nose? What did you put in your nose?" I ask.
"I don't know what it is. I just found it under the couch, and I put it up my nose," she replies.
Lovely.
Armed with an otoscope, I took a gander. Sure enough. There was some tube-like object about to disappear into never, never land. After a few unsuccessful nose blows, I did what any good doctor would have done. I got 'er done with an otoscope and a toothpick.
Kids, kids.
"Corrine, don't pick your nose. Go to the bathroom and get some tissue," I said.
So she went to the bathroom and promptly came back.
"There's something in my nose, and I can't get it out," she informed me.
"You can't get it out? What is it? Did you put something in your nose? What did you put in your nose?" I ask.
"I don't know what it is. I just found it under the couch, and I put it up my nose," she replies.
Lovely.
Armed with an otoscope, I took a gander. Sure enough. There was some tube-like object about to disappear into never, never land. After a few unsuccessful nose blows, I did what any good doctor would have done. I got 'er done with an otoscope and a toothpick.
Kids, kids.
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