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Since it's a joke among my friends that I attract minor accidents and injuries like an industrial magnet attracts large machinery, my good friend (and adopted aunt) TankMagnet sent me a Home Depot first aid kit as a joke several months back. It worked like a charm. I miraculously stopped inadvertently exsanguinating myself. (Although I still have a knack for attracting contusions - as I found out for the umpteenth time this afternoon when I was foolish enough to walk around the gym with my glasses off, and hit my head hard on the lat bar that somebody had attached to the cross-cable pull machine. BONK. Apparently, the impact sound was loud enough that heads other than mine turned).
However, it would seem that there is a Law of Conservation of Injury Proneness, as my injury tendencies have passed to my mother, because if there's anyone who has recurrently profited from TM's first aid kit, it would be she. Especially tonight when, in the middle of dinner preparations, her cleaver slipped and cut up the wrong meat. Namely, a sliver of flesh off her middle finger's distal phalanx, near the nail bed. Needless to say, there was major exsanguination (and minor panic on the part of said female relative). Cue first aid kit, antiseptic cream, wads of cotton gauze, surgical tape. My mother wasn't exactly enamoured with my treatment, though: "You didn't tell me that antiseptic was gonna hurt like hell! OW! OW! OW!" "Oh, just bear with it!" [And she had to go through a second - similar - dressing episode...] The bleeding's all but stopped now, though, so by tomorrow, all that wadding should be replaced with a band-aid.
So saith my twin: "You would have been a FANTASTIC doctor. Just, yeah. House-like. No bedside manner." AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA.
However, it would seem that there is a Law of Conservation of Injury Proneness, as my injury tendencies have passed to my mother, because if there's anyone who has recurrently profited from TM's first aid kit, it would be she. Especially tonight when, in the middle of dinner preparations, her cleaver slipped and cut up the wrong meat. Namely, a sliver of flesh off her middle finger's distal phalanx, near the nail bed. Needless to say, there was major exsanguination (and minor panic on the part of said female relative). Cue first aid kit, antiseptic cream, wads of cotton gauze, surgical tape. My mother wasn't exactly enamoured with my treatment, though: "You didn't tell me that antiseptic was gonna hurt like hell! OW! OW! OW!" "Oh, just bear with it!" [And she had to go through a second - similar - dressing episode...] The bleeding's all but stopped now, though, so by tomorrow, all that wadding should be replaced with a band-aid.
So saith my twin: "You would have been a FANTASTIC doctor. Just, yeah. House-like. No bedside manner." AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA.
