Dramatic Tale of My Scraped Finger


I had a cut on my finger. Well, more of a deep scrape, really, a circle of bright red where the skin rasped off, and for days it hurt when anything touched it, even with a bandage.

When I washed my hands, the water seeped in, and it stung like I had scraped it anew. I washed my hair left-handed, kept my right hand at bay, all because of a small scrape on my finger.

Still, I cleaned it–hydrogen peroxide hurts far less than rubbing alcohol–put on antibiotic ointment, and kept it covered, right up until the evening I made myself a crazy-easy apple strudel-y thing (apple, butter, package of maple flavored instant oatmeal, a bit of water, oven, done), and curled up to eat it.

There was a particularly tough piece of skin that wasn’t skin at all. The bandage had fallen in without my noticing.

Goodbye dessert.

Now it’s healing, circle in circle, only a spot of dull red in the center. No more bandages necessary, thank goodness.

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