Unlike the long-neck ice-cold beer of Luke Combs, Farmer H and the Gas Station Chicken Store have broken my heart. Let me down! Just when I needed them most.
Sunday, Farmer H called at 10:30 to say he was leaving his Storage Unit Store, due to lack of business. He was running by a guy's house to get a fishing pole welded, and then taking some old blankets and sheets from his storage unit stash to our neighbor who groomed Marley, for her to use in her second shop. Then he was coming home.
Of course I assumed Farmer H would be there shortly. Like, by 1:00, at the latest. Even if he got to talking, as he is wont to do. 2.5 hours is plenty of time to weld a fishing pole and drop off bedding. I waited. The plan being to remove my egg-blister bandaid for a shower, and then be re-bandaged before going to town.
When 2:45 rolled around, with no Farmer H, I took a shower anyway. I blotted the (still-yellowish) clear fluid from my egg-blister, washed it with soap and water, blotted more fluid, and put on pants for town. As I've mentioned, I can't get a 3 x 4 inch bandaid over the borders of that blister without sticking the sticky part on the blister itself. It's in an inconvenient location, kind of cockeyed, that is fine for one-hand tending, but awkward for two. For me, anyway. I'm no skeleton clicking my bones together while contorting. There's ample padding on my bones.
Anyhoo...I started to town, that 44 oz Diet Coke on my mind. It's the simple things, you know. Life hasn't ended. It's only slowed down. Contact with one person a day is a risk I'm willing to take.
I noticed that town was not busy. Nor was the Gas Station Chicken Store. Sometimes Sundays are like that. But town seemed emptier this day. I parked in my favorite spot near the door, and picked up my coin cup to get correct change. I saw a lady and girl walk over from the far side of the lot, from a truck pulling a camper. They got to the front door, looked, and turned around. Left!
Huh. That was odd. I backed up and pulled through the pump area. Looked at the door. There was a homemade message on the door.
CLOSED. We decided to go home for the day. See you tomorrow!
Darn that Farmer H! He's certainly not trying to kill me with kindness...
3 comments:
No infusion of your life-blood that day.
He IS trying to kill you.
Your blister is still filling with fluid after that draining? That's a pretty bad burn and should probably be seen by a doctor. The yellowish fluid colour is worrying me.
Usually I pop a blister, drain it dry then just put a regular bandaid over the spot where the sterilised needle went in. I haven't had a blister in years, not since I bought new summer shoes and wore them without socks on the first day.
Sioux,
Yes. Yes he is. But I fooled HIM! I got my infusion from Orb K!
***
River,
It's the size of an egg! The regular bandaid treatment always worked for me, too, on a less-than-dime-sized blister. They would still refill, though, with clear fluid. That's why I tried it on this one. I think the problem was the FARMER-H-STERILIZED NEEDLE!
Doctors don't want to look at egg-sized blisters these days, when they can cater to people who are convinced they have the VIRUS. I don't particularly want to be in a waiting room with them, either. Still tending it, with triple antibiotic ointment. The dead skin part is sloughing off, and new flesh formed underneath. One partial area of assumed infection to be watched.
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