Should I keep my new nose?

Ok, now to test your judgment. Is the following story an example of:

a) extremely bad judgment and gross stupidity; or
b) an example of testing one's limits and maintaining the adventurous spirit.

One afternoon in the Galapagos we went snorkelling at Devil's Crown, which is the remains of an underwater volcano so lots of jagged rocks, caves and underwater tunnels (obvious plot device). I found a particularly cool cave so ducked underwater to check it out. It turned out to be a tunnel that went all the way through to the ocean on the other side of the crater wall. I came up and decided that I was going to try it. A deep breath and I ducked under and headed for the light.

The currents were strong both ways and up and down through the tunnel but with fins I soon made it through the 15 metres or so and was bobbing about on the ocean side. I caught my breath and after a minute or so decided to attempt the return swim through. The currents were stronger and about three quarters of the way through I saw the group watching me and realised I would have to swim further to avoid being kicked as I came up. Just as I began the final bit, the current surged and a fin came off my foot causing me to lose some control and surface too quickly. I put my hand above my head as the tunnel ceiling rushed towards me and looked up. There was a sickening crunch as a jagged part of the ceiling ploughed into my face. Luckily I surfaced on the outside and knew something was wrong when 3 or 4 of the girls screamed something like ,"Nick! You're bleeding!"

Having seen sharks just minutes before and with the boat a while away, I pulled myself up onto the rocks and took off my mask. Immediately a lovely gush of blood streamed down my face and my hands were a bright red. Apparently my face also went white. The others signalled frantically for the boat and when it arrived I swam over and it took me back to the Friendship. I spent the next few hours with ice, paracetamol and anti-inflammatories. I found out later that the group saw a good size Galapagos shark in the tunnel a few minutes after I got into the boat. Nice.

Luckily our next stop was the main island of Santa Cruz and that night I walked into the local hospital (clinic) with Cesar as my interpreter. Having done it many times myself I have great empathy for the challenges of translation but I knew I was in trouble when the nurse decided to speak in English and started with the question, “And what is my name?”

An x-ray the next day helped another doctor to determine that the nose was not broken but merely dislocated and that I could finish the final 3 days of the trip and get it checked out in Quito. Well, when I got back to the mainland I went to the Hospital Metropolitano which had a brand spanking new CAT scan machine. The slick doctor brought me the results and, trying to hide his smirk, said, “First, that x-ray was the worst I have ever seen and doesn’t show anything useful. Second, there is no such thing as a dislocated nose. And third, your nose is broken in 4-5 places and you will need surgery to fix it.” Good on you, doc!

So, was it stupid or brave? Bad judgment or pushing one’s limits? And should I have the surgery or live with my new look? Let’s just say that GQ magazine is reviewing my modelling contract.