This dire advice immediately had me feeling nervous and dithery. "How long is 6mm?" I asked the caregiver. "About a quarter of an inch in old-time thinking - but I wouldn't fret, because your gadget is ergonomically shaped to make it difficult to stick it too far up your nostrils."
The caregiver likes to take charge when I appear bewildered, so she insisted on my handing over the instruction manual.
The contents left her bemused. "Don't worry," she assured me. "It clearly states, 'this appliance can be used by a person with reduced physical, sensory or mental capabilities as long as they understand the hazards involved'.
"So, you just about qualify to manage the thing."
"So, there are hazards?" I whispered, turning pale.
"Well, you should always remember to turn the trimmer on before you insert it in your nose, to avoid painfully snagging hair," she said, "and you should never use the trimmer on someone who's asleep."
The thought of someone creeping up to me in a darkened bedroom and stealthily inserting a whirling razor trimmer up my nose sent my thoughts racing, imagining a scene that was a cross between an Alfred Hitchcock thriller and a Mr Bean episode.
The caregiver grew tired of my apparent timidity.
"Here, let me have a go, sit down and put your head back!" she commanded.
"It might hurt!" I squealed in protest, covering my face.
"For God's sake! It's a mini hair trimmer I'm inserting in your nose, not a giant dildo!" she sternly replied.
"I think I'd prefer the latter," I feebly responded as she set to work.
