Yesterday I managed once again to be on the receiving end of a wound of unknown origin. Random injuries are a daily thing for me. If I haven’t successfully hurt myself, broken something, or stained a piece of clothing, I haven’t gotten out of bed yet. I am currently in possession of the aforementioned cut (a scratch embedded in the fleshy part of my palm, rendering the comfort of Bandaids impractical), as well as at least four others. I won’t catalogue them for you (because who wants to read a list of cuts, bangs, bruises, and abrasions?), but in the interest of full disclosure I’ll admit that two shirts have also been harmed in the making of this weekend: one last night, splattered by spaghetti sauce (another good reason I don’t often cook) and the second this morning, dipped into my peanut butter toast breakfast.
I’ve resigned myself to this fate and I can’t say it even bothers me all that much, once the initial pain and throbbing reminders are doused by time, medicine, or — in the case of the stained clothing — laundry detergent. There are even a few advantages to a life of accident pronness. (Another thing I’m prone to doing: creating new words.) For one thing, there’s hope that my minor daily pains are a hedge against occasional catastrophic ones. This may be flawed logic — after all, one of my first actions upon this Earth was to undergo open-heart surgery — but I’m optimistic. Other advantages include the bonding that occurs when swapping tales of injuries past, and ever-increasing background knowledge for my writing. Flimsy, yes. But they’re all I’ve got, and since I’ve had this penchant for accidental pain for over thirty years, I’ve learned to appreciate the good points and try not to wonder about tomorrow.
I have weird issues of injuries too. I really scare myself sometimes. It usually happens during a time when I feel my most happiest! NOt fair!!! Enjoy the Peanut Butter Toast anyhow! Ever tried apple butter?
I had a biology teaching assistant long ago in my undergrad years who was missing part of a finger. He spent the entire semester making up stories as to how he lost it (each one grew more and more involved). In the end, he admitted it was an accident with some farm machinery (we think)…
ROLLJ, I can see that. Maybe when you’re happy, you’re not paying as much attention to the little details. Or maybe you are just more enthusiastic, which puts you in harm’s way.
Ilan, that’s hilarious! I love that idea. It would work best for my open-heart surgery scar because it’s visible in almost any shirt, and unlike my ubiquitous paper cuts it’s permanent.
Great post! I, too, have a knack for injuring myself, plus just really, really bad luck. Last week I went to the doctors for a different problem, got up from the table, got dizzy and fell and broke two toes. Then my transmission in my car died a few days later. I always have countless bruises, cuts and scrapes all over my body that I can’t remember getting. I’m beginning to wonder if I lead some crazy life at night, sleepwalking around town, hitting all the best parties.
I agree with your theory tho. I keep thinking that I’ll get all these injuries and illnesses out of the way now and I’ll be the healthiest old lady some day.
I feel your pain…
In the game of one upmanship, you’ve won. The best trauma I can boast is a ruptured spleen, since removed, and a broken femur.
The reason may know nothing about the flawed celestial logic..Take care lady..
Well, glad it doesn’t hurt!!
Unknown origin, you say. Hmm, I’d be questioning those kitties with the demonic eyes. It is a cat conspiracy to injure your hands so you play with them instead of the laptop. š
Gas (the dh) is forever asking me “Where’d you get that bruise?” I usually have no idea. I did once give myself a black eye, though. Tried to wipe the sweat from my brow–while holding a ten lb dumbbell. Ah yeah, who’s the dumbbell?
Oh, no, Mymarketing! I hope your toes heal quickly. At least you were in the right place for something like that to happen.
Alas, David, this is definitely not a game I want to win. Why can’t I, say, be really rich or gorgeous or talented instead of accident-prone? And those are definitely some pretty severe traumas you have there. It looks like all those potential paper cuts, stubbed toes, etc. were consolidated into bigger stuff.
Thanks, nrsl. You, too. š
Angela, there is that! They usually do right at the beginning (though not always) but after a while I’m just left with a scar–or sometimes not even that.
LOL, Lainey! They have been the cause of more than one injury! Their claws are the worst, especially when they’re sitting or standing on me and then something startles them. But they are also in the habit of wrapping around my feet. And ouch on the dumbbell thing, though it sounds like you have a good sense of humor about it.
I think this is also a habit of creative types, Caryn. We get so caught up in our imagination, so focused on creating that bangs and bruises appear, magically!