I've Been Burned (Gouged) By The (Fake) Fire(place)

Today I take a break from plagiarizing Ed Sheeran lyrics, and move on to Tom Petty for my title. It's a line from "Insider." [at 1:40 in this 5:26 YouTube duet with Stevie Nicks]

If you are the squeamish sort, you might not want to continue. I've put the gory pictures in reverse order, so as not to traumatize people with the thumbnail. I can't be settling personal injury lawsuits from the fainters, because I might be dealing with lawsuits from the music theft!

Anyhoo... a terrible tragedy befell me on Tuesday morning. I was getting up from my OPC (Old People Chair) to pull up the shorts that go with my leg pumps. In lifting my left arm, I hit the corner of the fake electric fireplace that's on the wall next to the OPC. A normal person could take a beatin' and keep on reachin', but I have thin, papery old lady skin, as The Pony says.

The corner of the fireplace ripped a triangle-shaped piece of skin loose. I knew it was going to bleed like an open fire hydrant. Good thing I have that cardboard box of supplies on the table next to the OPC, because no way could I hurry out of the carpeted living room with those heavy canvas shorts around my ankles, and seven assorted hoses strewn in my path. I could at least grab a piece of paper towel from my emergency stash.

There I stood, pressing the wound, pondering my next move. I sat down, kept my arm flat, and grabbed the box with my right hand. Of course I had everything in there but the kitchen sink, and bandaids. I had some non-stick flat gauze squares, though. And scissors. And tape. So I cut a gauze square in half, and tore off two strips of clear tape. I managed a makeshift bandage. It held up pretty well.

The injury happened around 10:15. As I readied myself for town at 2:30, I noticed that blood had started to seep through the gauze. It wasn't wet. There's a barrier. So I went on to town, rather than take time to re-bandage. 

Here's what it was like when I got home:

A bit misleading to pose it over my cutting board, but I was making Farmer H's supper at the time of the photos and the changing of the bandage. It's about to get gory. This is your warning to step away!

I took the bandage off by the wastebasket. Taking off the two tape pieces pulled my fragile skin. Blood started flowing again, even though this was now 4:00, and six hours after the injury. Lucky for me the paper towel holder was right there, so I got it blotted over and over, as I went to the living room to show Farmer H. Who of course had a large bandaid on HIS left arm, in the same place! Said he knocked it into a stack of 2x4s at Lowe's. But mine was more dramatic, I declared!

You can see the triangle of gouged skin. I know it won't be growing back. But I can't trim it off right now. Only press it back down with a new bandage. The pinkness around it is from the wiped-off blood, not inflammation. I'll stick with my bandages and clear tape, because I don't want to use one of Farmer H's big bandaids and find out I'm allergic to the adhesive.

I plan to leave my current bandage on a day or two, unless it seeps through too much. To allow the wound to start healing, and not bleed every time the skin is stretched taking off the tape. For showering, I plan to cut the top and bottom off a sandwich baggie, and slip that over my bandage. The tape to hold it on should be far enough away from the wound so that taking it off won't stretch the injured area.

Oh, and don't worry about Farmer H's supper. It was just corn dogs. They were in the oven when I unbandaged and got everything cleaned up again. I didn't have to touch his food, just take the pan out of the oven when they were done. Cutting board got washed with the dishes.

Too Far! Even If My Helicopter Wasn't Up On Blocks.

I am a bit worried about Genius. He has been trying to call me since last week. One day I was in the middle of 10Box, and the reception isn't good. Another day I was driving, and talking on the phone while driving is now against the law here in Missouri, unless you have the hands-free set-up, which I don't. I was on the little road that passes by the Double Hovel Beauty Shop, taking a shortcut. So I explained I couldn't really talk, but had ansered in case something was wrong.

Genius got through to me on Saturday, while I was sitting at the kitchen table. He was on-call with work, but had a spare moment. We chatted about 30 minutes. Nothing vital was discussed.

Tuesday morning before 9:00, Genius called again.

"Now I don't want you to worry about me. I'm fine. But last week, I was eating supper, and I had some kind of allergic reaction. My lips swelled up, and my lower jaw. I didn't feel like I couldn't breathe. I wasn't worried enough to go to the ER. I took some Benadryl, and the swelling went down. I have an appointment with my doctor to discuss it. The pharmacy guy gave me an epi pen. So I have that, in case something happens before I see the doctor. I'm just calling to see what Grandpa was allergic to. I remember he had to carry and epi pen."

"That was wasps. And he was a lineman with the telephone company, so likely to run into a nest every now and then. He never had to use it, but he had it."

"Oh. Well. I didn't eat a wasp, heh, heh!"

"Your cousin Niecy is allergic to strawberries. And maybe shrimp. But I don't know that any of the rest of us have food allergies."

"Okay. I was just trying to find out some history to tell the doctor."

"What were you eating?"

"Just a burger and fries, from Shake Shack. I've eaten the exact same thing a lot of times, and never had any problem."

"What was on the burger?"

"Just meat and cheese and peppers."

"Huh. I guess it could have been something with the peppers, even though you never had a problem before. Or maybe they used a spatula on something else, and then on your burger."

"I was out in the yard earlier. But I didn't get stung by anything."

"Your grandpa was also really allergic to poison ivy. I had it once, and never again. I know it's in the oil from the leaves. But they say it can be carried by smoke and affect people. Or maybe you touched something or brushed against it. Like it was on your pants, and you rubbed your hands on your leg, and then touched the burger. I don't know. I bet your doctor refers you for allergy testing."

"Yeah. She might. But I'm fine now. So don't worry about me. Friend ate the same thing as I did, and he didn't have any reaction."

"I'll try not to worry about you. You seem to have things under control."

Yeah. I am very busy not worrying right now...

Scratchmaker, Scratchmaker, Make Us A Match

Did I mention that the local Missouri Lottery scratcher machines have been replaced? Or maybe just re-programmed. It happened at Country Mart a couple weeks ago, as The Pony and I walked in to shop. About six employees were standing at the end of a register, talking. We walked up to the first machine, and a guy came over.

"We just got training. Here's how they work now. Touch the screen to make your selection. Then it goes into a cart instead of coming out. At the end, you go to your cart, and that's when you put in your money, or scan your winners. When you put enough in, the machine dispenses your tickets."

I'm glad he was there to show me. It was really easy. If I'd been left to try it myself, it would have taken forever. I'd have thought it was broken, because it wouldn't take my money, or scan the winners in at the beginning. Technology and me, you know.

Anyhoo... the machines at both Save A Lots are new now. And both of them at 10Box.

I went in 10Box on Sunday, and was disappointed to see two old ladies with their carts parked in front of the lottery machines. They're in a corner, and I had no way to get to either on. Besides, the ladies weren't even buying tickets. They were standing with their BACKS to the machines, carts pointed out, just talking. I figured I'd have to stand off to the side and wait, but they noticed me, and pushed  their carts forward a bit so I could have access.

While I was making my selections, I heard them chatting. I guess one had told the other how the "new" machines worked. One explained where she lived. The other said she was so glad to meet her. That it's really hard to make new friends when you get older. The first one agreed. It sounded like they were planning to get together sometime.

Isn't that cool? Two old ladies made a new friend, all because of the scratcher machines.

What's Going On Here?

You never know what you might see at the Gas Station Chicken Store. Even if it's not within the store itself. Saturday I nabbed my rightful handicap parking space beside the building. Facing the back alley, I noticed something unusual. [Despite this photo giving a crisp fall day feel, it was actually 92 degrees.]

Do you see it, there in the distance? Not the building. That used to be a can-opener factory. Might still be. I know people work there, and a shift gets off at 3:00 or 3:30, which makes me wait on a string of traffic to get back on the main road.

No, it's not the building I noticed.

Why is there a truck in that big field? Was somebody joy-riding and broke down? Trying to evade the police and take a long bumpy shortcut? It's not like concerts are held there, or festivals, where cars are directed to park in that field. I don't know who owns it, but it is usually kept mowed. I'm pretty sure this truck doesn't belong.

Looks like it's going to need a tow.

Five Years Seems Overly Optimistic

You may recall that the end of July was when I received my leg pumps for lymphedema. I have been using them every day. It takes an hour, hooked up to that contraption. Getting my legs unwrapped and wrapped again adds another half hour. But I have a routine. It's not unpleasant. Actually kind of relaxing and massage-y. Just time consuming.

Anyhoo... I've only had the leg pumps for about six weeks. And a couple of weeks ago, I BROKE part of the contraption!!! Which is supposed to last me for five years, before insurance will pay for another. And even with insurance, this one cost me $1,172.01.

I didn't recall doing anything wrong. But one morning, the last hose would clip on. No matter how much I wiggled it, or pressed harder to click in into place, it wouldn't fit.  Here I was, my legs all zipped up in the canvas-y fabric, eight other hoses clicked in, and I couldn't proceed. I looked closer at the controller/pumper.

Two of these things are not like the others. I took this picture a couple days later. At the time, all the ports had hoses plugged in except the lower left, which is meant to be empty. So I was only looking at the lower right port. I hadn't been using this contraption long enough to know what I should be looking at. Before, I just snapped the hoses into place, and didn't have to think.

Finally, I looked into the end of the hose connector, and saw something that seemed different. I realized that the little cap thingy was stuck inside the connector. I used the point of an ink pen to pop it loose. Then I set it into the port. There's a little groove that has to line up at top. And a little notch in the connector that must fit, to click the hose into place.

That's the underside of the cap. Those white areas are where I think glue was put on at the factory, to stick it into place. I just flipped it over and set it on, then the hose connected. But when I took it loose later, that cap popped off again. The closer I inspected, I found a raised area. It's like when you buy a model car, and snap the pieces off the plastic holder they come attached to, and sometimes there's a raised nub. This raised nub had kept the glue from holding, because the entire cap was not flush.

You can see the other circles on the underside. The white one at the bottom is where there was a raised section. I filed it down with a raspy sandpapery nail file. The other white areas on the rim are just from where the factory glue was put. I didn't do any filing except that lower circle. Got it almost down to the surface.

I got some Elmer's School Glue at 10Box. I put it on with a toothpick, over those white areas. I held it with pressure for two minutes. Then I left it alone for 24 hours. Now my hose clicks on like a charm. The cap stays in place when I remove  the hose.

I'm a regular MacGyver!

I guess I need to be. This pump still has 4 years and 10.5 months to go.

How Much Bad Luck Can One Person Endure

Once again, I am worried about Fave. She was there Thursday as normal, behind the counter at the Gas Station Chicken Store. I was the only customer at the time. I handed her my winners, and the envelope with her tickets I give every week. She thanked me, and rang up my scratchers. 

Something was off. Fave was a bit subdued. Not herself. I wondered if I had said something out of line last week. We joke around. But I couldn't recall anything. We were fine when I left on Sunday.

Fave wished me good luck. I started the three steps towards the door. Then Fave said,

"My dad is in the hospital. He had two strokes. He went in to fix something in his shoulder. He had the strokes on the operating table. Also he aspirated. He has pneumonia and an infection. He's been there since Tuesday. The hospital just called to see if I knew his wishes. I didn't know what to say."

Well. That is very sad news. I am hoping something good will happen, and Fave's dad will respond to treatment. It will be no mystery if she is not there on Friday.

Farmer H Marches (And Lies) To His Own Drum

Wednesday evening, we watched Big Brother as usual. It was 90 minutes this time, though usually an hour. Farmer H was in his recliner, wearing only tighty-whities after a soak in the big jetted triangle tub in the master bathroom. I was in my Mansion-wear, reclined in my OPC (Old People Chair).

We had just gotten to the end of the veto competition. After commercial, the winner would be revealed, and we'd see if the veto was used. There was about 20 minutes of show left.

To my surprise, Farmer H had gotten up for a bathroom visit, during the last competitor of the veto competition. Then lay down on the long couch. The surprise was his cocooning.

Yeah. He's in there. His head is on the left, on top of his pile of clean laundry that's only been there two days so far. His feet are to the right, hanging off the end. Farmer H was moaning that he was cold.

"Huh. Some people might just put on clothes, rather than sit around shivering in their underwear."

"I don't need no clothes. I'm going to bed."

"NOW? We'll see who won after the commercial."

"You can tell me tomorrow."

So after less than five minutes on the couch, Farmer H got up and went to bed. That seems like a lot of effort for me, to grab the afghan and unfold it and wrap up in it and shimmy into an acceptable position on the couch. He could have grabbed it and covered up in his recliner and finished the show. Or just gone to bed instead of coming back out after his bathroom trip.

There's no explaining the behavior of Farmer H.

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The afghan was a gift from one of my uncle's friends when my family visited him in Alaska way back in the 70s. The blanket on the back of the couch was made by my niece, Niecy, just for fun. 

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