Saturday night was odd. At one point, I noticed the cut on my arm was burning. Not just the typical ‘I cut myself and the clothes burn’ feeling. Actually painful. Upon pulling up my shirt sleeve, I got a lovely sight- interstitial fluid had leaked from the cut, built up around the plaster and begun pooling under the bandage. A closer examination revealed that, although several days had passed, the cut continued to bleed just a bit after I removed the bandage.
From there, I went searching for bandages that would put pressure on the wound and hold in the fluid. Almost $9.00 later, I was wrapping it in gauze and tape, hoping that would stop any draining. A few hours after that, I was picking bits of gauze out of the sticky spots and attempting to stop the blood seeping again. Another two plasters and it was calm.
So, part of an otherwise nice Saturday night, money I didn’t have, and physical problems that are still worrying me a bit. And my response to all of this? I’ll just have to be more careful next time.
This is not something I like. In fact, it’s something that is disturbing me greatly. I spend time and money trying to at least prevent a terrible infection setting up in the cut, and all my mind gravitates toward is the knowledge that I’ll do this again. One would think this would be an example of lesson learnt, but being painfully honest with myself, I doubt the thought that I’ll never cut again. I feel incredibly idiotic, selfish, and like a child throwing a fit, but it’s still a mechanism I lean on to release the ugliness.
My response should be never again. At the moment, though, it’s just focused on next time.