In the early 1970s, when I was about thirty-five, I developed a rather embarrassing problem. The tip of my nose slowly turned a light reddish colour. It wasn't painful, and it didn't interfere with my breathing, but it did interfere with my peace of mind.
At first, I ignored it. After all, we are experts at hoping that minor problems will disappear if left alone. Mine, however, showed no intention of leaving. I began to imagine that, given enough time, I might qualify for a job as a clown in a circus without even applying. All I needed was a colourful wig and a pair of oversized shoes!
At last, I decided to consult one of the city's most famous dermatologists. As I entered his consulting room, I was greeted by an unexpected sight. The doctor's own nose was considerably larger than mine and noticeably darker than the rest of his face. To make matters even more interesting, he kept rubbing and scratching it while examining me.
I couldn't help thinking, "If this is the advertisement for his treatment, should I quietly walk out?" Fortunately, I stayed.
After a careful examination, the doctor declared, "Your reddish nose is due to a deficiency of stomach acid."
That left me completely puzzled. I had gone to see him about my nose, and he was talking about my stomach! To me, they seemed to be complete strangers living at opposite ends of the body.
But the doctor was not prepared to rely on guesswork. Before prescribing any medicine, he sent me for a stomach lavage test. I soon discovered that "test" was a very gentle word for what felt like an unforgettable ordeal. By the end of it, I felt I deserved a bravery award.
The results proved that the doctor was right. He prescribed dilute hydrochloric acid—ten drops in 200 ml of water, twice a day before meals.
I followed his instructions faithfully. Within a few weeks, the redness faded away, and my nose returned to its normal colour. The circus lost a potential performer.
For nearly the next fifty years, both my nose and my stomach behaved like ideal citizens. The redness never returned, and my stomach acid appeared to have found the right balance. I almost forgot that such an episode had ever occurred.
Life, however, enjoys writing sequels. During the past six months or so, my stomach seems to have changed sides! Instead of too little acid, it now appears to produce a little too much. These days, I keep a few packets of Eno close at hand, rather like carrying an umbrella during the monsoon. Fortunately, my doctor is much less worried than I am. Whenever I complain, he calmly says, "Just drink a glass of warm water when the symptoms arise." His reassuring smile suggests that my anxiety is probably worse than my acidity!
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