A little over a couple of weeks ago I acquired a steam burn. But after a few days it wasn’t healing as nicely as I would have liked, so I dragged myself…a very accurate description for my ornery self…to the doctor to expose not only the lapse of judgment that occurred that Sunday, but also my apparent lack of first aid skills for the severity of burn that developed. Upon revealing the rather large and painful burn that would not heal, the doctor stood back, put her hand on her hips, and proceeded to give me the tongue lashing a firm but fair southern grandmother would have given me. She put me in my place, and it was greatly needed as I’m still trying to accept that I’m not as tough and smart as I’d like to think I am. She taught me how to care for my wound. Step by step she tutored me on how to help the healing process to really begin, and her guidance along with antibiotics as well as antibiotic ointment put me on the path to recovery that was needed.
I’m still self-conscious about how it looked a week later so I blurred the wound here
But another week later I am completely healed.
Left behind is a circular scar where the first blister from the burn appeared, which she said I would be left with, and a lifetime supply of gauze, medical grade gloves, soap, and saline solution thanks to an unhealthy level of anxiety that overthunk every step in the first aid I was taught because I figured my luck something stupid like an infection would end up taking me out 🙄.
I operate my industrial pressure cookers completely different now though. No more thinking I’m impervious to harm because my skin’s just that tough as long as grit my teeth and grunt under my breath every time I experience pain to strengthen the invisible shield surrounding me. Thinking my flex could never diminish as long as I’m packing 50lb boxes of potatoes the 30 something feet from the back room to the sink whilst my cape is flying behind me. Thinking I don’t have the time to get hurt as long as I dart around here and there doing multiple things at once because I know how to get things done when the time is low and the pressure is high. Yeah. That was my insane and completely ignorant SuperChick thinking before this happened 🤦🏻♀️. I’m not proud of it. Any of it. But I did gain a highly humbling and educating experience that a scar on my ego and skin will never let me forget. Pretty sure there’s a little voice inside my head that’s still doubled over in laughter that won’t let me ever forget either. Oh well. I could use a dose of feeling a little more human. My cape was getting rather tattered anyway.
I got flesh eating bacteria through a neck wound, or a neck wound was caused by it, I am not sure. I picked at it, it spread, I stopped, thinking it would heal. I waited too long, my legs stopped working, I called an ambulance.
It had spread to my spine. They cut away a huge chunk of flesh, and stuck on a huge sponge wrapped in plastic and attached to a "wound vac" that sucked up pink fluid day and night, as I laid immobile stuck to tubes to add fluids and drugs and take them away out the usual holes.
Then they removed the sponge, cut a slice of bacon from my leg, and pasted it on the wound. They added some metal staples. I was a regular Frankenstein.
The graft took, it healed over, but it still is clear as day. I can even see the crosshashes where they poke holes in the graft to help it grow. My neck is still stiff. At least I can walk again.
Dr Xavier could have told you that not only are capes dangerous. But it is so much smarter to use your superior mind control powers to get some lesser mortal to do the heavy lifting and risk their hide,,😷
@Livingwell Thanks. Was my second one and it was the engraving my dad did on a locket for me that had my picture in it and Elvis’ …😂. Was his two loves when I was a kid.
That looks painful. I am glad it’s healed and hopefully the scar will fade. You need to be kinder to your body 🩷, you only get one. Don’t hurt yourself.
