Farmer H, My Personal (Un)Care(ing) Giver

With the most recent slamming of my leg in a car door (there's a sentence you never want to write), I am dependent on Farmer H to bandage the wound. It's around back on my calf, near the knee bend. I can't see it without contorting or using my cell phone for a picture. Props to Farmer H for applying my first aid accoutrements, but he does not have the best couch-side manner.

 

As with last time, the initial few days of such an injury result in a weeping wound. The bleeding lasts a few hours, then peters out as the plasma floods the injury, carrying away crushed cells and possible pathogens. Of course I'd like the flowing fluid to stop, but I know it serves a purpose. I have to devise a way to deal with it. A bandaid with triple antibiotic ointment covers the broken skin, but still allows the injury to weep.

 

Farmer H thinks LIQUID BANDAID is the solution.

 

"I'll put some of that on it, and that'll stop the fluid! Of course, it WILL hurt. It burns! Unless maybe there's a spray version now, which might not hurt as much. But it will cover it up so the fluid stays in." 

That was Farmer H's stance on Monday morning. After I'd already told him several times the night before that I did NOT want to use Liquid Bandaid.

"NO! Enough with the Liquid Bandaid talk! I already told you I don't want that. I'm afraid my leg might explode if it gets sealed up and can't let the fluid out."

"HA HA HA HA HA!" He had to stop here for a coughing fit, but then continued: "Your leg isn't going to explode, HM! Ha ha ha!"

He doesn't have to be so mean...