So, in my infinite wisdom and unending clumsiness I managed to give myself burns on my hand and wrist, ranging from first to third degree. I did this at work, with boiling hot coffee.
The next old person who tells me the coffee isn't hot enough is getting an eyeful of blistered and pus-y skin to show that yes, in fact, it is, and then some.
In the middle of all of this I seem to have acquired myself a bit of a relationship, with a handsome man. There is nothing like having a near tragedy to bring out the best, or sometimes, worst, in people. This one seems to have elicited his best response, and I am grateful. After spending so long having only myself to care for me, it feels a bit strange to let him clean and dress the wounds, tender and gentle while I wince, and I can't stop wondering why anyone would want to do this for me. The burns are the most disgusting thing I have ever seen and the pain is the worst I have ever felt. And I had natural childbirth. Admittedly I am being a bit of a baby about it, and every narcotic they have tried to give me for pain has made me feel like I was about to vomit my innards up.
So yeah life moves fast sometimes. And good sometimes, if you are lucky, even with half the skin of your arm hanging off.
Other Side of the Game
1 year ago