Thursday, April 30, 2009

One-Nostrilled Doswell Man Has no Olfactory Depth Perception

A peculiar birth defect affords New Market Mill Road resident Morey Dingle a great sense of smell but without the ability to judge how far away the odor is.

The defect, called “Mononostrillation”, is described as having only one nostril – a big one, in Morey’s case, and right in the center of his nose.

Just as two eyes merge images to be interpreted by our brains into distance, and our two ears merge sounds, our nose apparently also merges two distinct “scent-streams” to help us judge exactly how far away a certain aroma really is.

“I can smell steaks cooking a mile away, only I can’t tell if they are really a mile away or in the next room,” reports the uni-vented, olfactory-disadvantaged Doswellian from the living room of his renovated farm house. “I am not unlike a reptile.”

Morey’s wife Debbie and two children – 8-yr-old Marcus and 5-yr-old Debbie jr. – report that life around the Dingle household is not much different than any other, despite their father’s fleshy mono-beak, with a couple of exceptions: Apparently he snores like the distress signal of a sinking oil tanker. “My Lord, he rattles the storm windows right off the house,” says Debbie of her husband’s face-mounted cartilage organ pipe. “And when he sneezes he sounds just like a cherry bomb inside an oil drum. One time he blew the back door open.”

The defect was not without its advantages as a child, according to Dingle. “I could insert my finger all the way to the second knuckle, drawing oohs and aahs from my friends. As a teenager, it got a slightly less positive response, but I learned tricks.” Dingle then deftly inserted a ballpoint pen almost all the way to the cap inside his yawning solitary snot chasm. “Now watch.” He then puffed and blasted the pen into the ceiling, sticking it there. “You wouldn’t believe how many dart games I hustled that way!” he said proudly.

He reports he has been to doctors to see if he could have his soft-tissue solo blowhole surgically divided into two distinct nostrils, but the surgery was not covered by his major medical plan. So until medical science catches up with people like Morey Dingle and his single-gulch proboscis, he just has to live with it.