March 23, 2009 · Uncategorized

I skinned my right knee today.  Today.  Less than 2 months before my 30th birthday, I trip, fall & skin my knee on the pavement.  My jeans managed to survive.  And I was able to fashion a make shift bandage out of a Kleenex and some scotch tape.  I realize just how absurd this sounds.  It’s not like I was trapped down a well somewhere in the woods waiting for Lassie (or perhaps Laddie) to come save me.  I could have easily located a band-aid from the gigantic emergency kit that I’m required to keep in my work truck should birds fly over from Asia and start infecting us all with the flu.  Instead I opted for the MacGuyver style wound dressing.

The truly pathetic thing is that this isn’t the first time in recent memory that my knees have suffered such a fate.  Just 2 years ago I tripped over a curb and skinned both of my knees.  I was with my “car buddies”  (aka guy friends) at the time.  Not wanting to appear like a wussy girl, I stood there in the June sun with the blood streaming down my shins insisting that I was not only fine, I couldn’t possibly be better.  Did I need a band-aid?  Hell no I didn’t need a band-aid!  Band-aids are for girly sissy girls who where pink and like nail polish.  Not me!  Inside I was DYING!  The pain was just unbearable.  If I were alone I most definitely would have been on the phone with my husband SOBBING.  Finally my buddy Brandon absolutely insisted that I put on a couple of band-aids because the gore of seeing my mangled, bloody skin was just too much to process.

If I reach back further into the history of my adult life, I am reminded of the neo-geo pocket incident of ‘99.  I had just left my boyfriend’s (now husband) Rutgers dorm room.  I was walking to class while playing bust-a-move on my neo-geo pocket.  I was looking down (rather than paying attention to where I was walking) when tripped over a very low chain designed to block cars from entering the sidewalk.  I took a massive face-plant into the gritty parking lot.  Neo-geo pocket went flying.  I skinned my wrists, my chin, my knees & twisted both ankles.  And I lost my round of bust-a-move.  All those damn bubbles stacked up before I had a chance to regroup and find my game.  I decided to cancel going to class on account of blood, which is a better reason than some of the other excuses for not going (the Mets, The Cosby show, rain, sun).

I’ve clearly fared far worse in the past, than I did with the knee skinning incident that occurred today.  The blood and shredded skin was quite minimal, and aside from the Kleenex fusing itself to the forming scabs, the healing process is already in motion.  After the scotch tape lost its stickiness, I moved on to a Hello Kitty Band-aid.  I’ll consider that a worthy upgrade.

If you enjoyed reading this, wait until the next time I accidentally burn myself making dinner, that will spark quite a trip down memory lane.

There's still some kleenex stuck in the scab!

There's still some kleenex stuck in the scab!

Written by admin


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