I believe I mentioned the wound on my lower right leg, yes? Once again, a little flake of skin turns into an infected wound because no matter how often it happens, I don't learn better to leave it alone!
For just such an occasion, I keep several things on hand, like extra oral antibiotics and a wound care kit. Well, I was changing my bandage this evening, and...*sigh*...
Okay...Step one is to clean the affected area. I don't have iodine around, so I clean using alcohol swabs. It stings a lot more, but I know it's clean.
The next step is to apply Silvasorb Gel. I'm told that it helps to draw impurities from a wound, helping it to heal. As I learned from the wound care nurse last year, I use an applicator, and don't apply fro tube-to-wound so as not to contaminate the medication.
Next comes the application of a small square of Adaptic. This is a sterile gauze coated with petroleum jelly. It sounds...well, kind of icky, really. But it prevents the wound from sticking to such things as ordinary, dry gauze...and this is where I got myself into trouble.
Adaptic comes in rather large sheets. In order to cut a square off, I take a pair of scissors, clean the edges with another alcohol swab, then snip out the Adaptic as I need it. I was doing this very thing, cleaning the edges, when the blade sliced through the alcohol swab and through my finger. Not COMPLETELY through, but through enough skin to let quite a bit of blood drip.
Suddenly, I was tending a new wound. Once again, I cleaned it with a swab, applied some silver sulfadiazine cream, (which is much like the Silvasorb, but keeps the wound more moist), and then stuck a Band-Aid on it...that promptly didn't stick, and had to be taped down further. I briefly considered the possibility of perhaps going to get a stitch in my finger, but there was no great flap of skin needing to be tacked down. For a wound, it's very neat.
The thing is, as the title of this post says, that this is pure irony, and a perfect example of the course of my life. I got hurt tending a wound! Taken to a greater extreme, I suppose I could have been wrapping the wound on my leg, lost my balance while sitting in my chair, fallen, and broken my wrist when I hit the floor. That would have just been all kinds of perfection, don't you think?
Meanwhile, in another part of my head...
It occurred to me that my doctor asked me a question today that now has me asking, "Why did he ask that?" He wanted to know if my hips hurt. Well, as Becky could easily report, they do. I've been blaming it on the fact that I'm 43 and sleeping on one futon after another. Still, I think I should be able to sleep on a floor and not be in nearly as much pain...
...once that thought was complete, another fact occurred to me: the same doc, for my last three surgeries, all since last May, has mentioned the same thing after each: there was a bit of arthritis in each joint he worked on. I didn't connect the dots when I was in his office, but I think my doctor knows something I don't. Or didn't, as I'm starting to get a clue. Family genetics are continuing to catch up to me, and I'm developing arthritis in every major joint in my body. For reasons unknown, my wrists and ankles don't bother me, but my elbows, knees, and hips...Oh, how those ache!
My problem with this is that I think I'm too young for this kind of thing. Sure, I can understand my diabetes causing me great woe after 36 years. But Arthritis is something OLD people get...Right? Well, of course I know I'm wrong. But I think so youthfully at times that I simply can't believe this "old person's illness" is affecting me. (Yes, despite my many posts where I reveal a great deal of wisdom and experience, I am very much so a child at heart. And you'd know this if you could hear the childish voice I use when I tell Becky that I love her "a whole bunch of dis manies!") Arthritis was never really on my list of things to be concerned about, despite both of my bio-parents having it.
No...You wanna know what I've been keeping an eye out for? Shelve the diabetes; that one is old news. Ignore my smoking; cancer is genetic, and no one in my family has ever had lung cancer. Bad dental equipment can be set aside as well; that's going to be an ongoing battle for some time, I think. No, my great fear is that while killed my elder brother and my uncle Jimmy. Leukemia. And let me tell you, the bruising I had after my last surgery had me freaking out, if only briefly. As I said, cancer is genetic, and leukemia is "blood cancer." I dread the day I start finding bruises after simply leaning on things.
Ah, but I'm not living in fear of that one. It's there, in the back of my mind, a small, nagging thought to pester me every now and again. I worry more about Becky abandoning ship than my developing a truly deadly illness.
Yet again, the definition of "irony." I'm a handicapped guy worried about becoming ill. And I wounded myself while tending a wound. Go figure.
I'm gonna go onto City of Heroes and fight crime for a bit. Although with the way this day is going, the game will turn on me and my character will be arrested for vigilantism.