Mystery Splotch, Six Month Splinter, and Bad, Bad Boo-Boo

This is the story of an unfortunate accident-prone, klutzy type person, not living in an environment conducive to staying safe.

It really says that I have absolutely no vanity with some of the awful photos I post of myself on my blogs. I mean, really, I do sacrifice ego in the name of art.

Not to gross anyone out here, and this topic may also be of zero interest to you, but I can show you how you can rock three major and possibly dangerous injuries, and live to tell about them. (thus this blog) Complete with ugly photos.

Living in a log cabin like I do, and you must read this blog to see the circumstances we are living in since our home was destroyed in a flood, there are all kinds of exposed wires, pipes, large foreboding nails, and all kinds of ways to experience an injury if I don’t tread carefully.

And of course, I don’t tread carefully. Neither does my husband and he has had some nasty injuries here as well.

But first, I need to dispel an old wive’s tale. I remember all the way back to the summer, about five months ago, when I was riding my bike in flip flops and had to stop short. I pressed my toes into the boardwalk, and didn’t feel an injury or anything, so I paid no attention to the underside of my toe. (The boardwalk is a perfect opportunity for the most lovely splinters if you fall on it.)

I vaguely remember seeing a black line above my toe for quite a while, but thought it was a sore, a scab, a piece of dirt or whatever else my denial would allow.

It was actually a big old fashioned splinter – a piece of wood wedged beneath my skin. And it sat there. Isn’t there an old wive’s tale about the deathly danger of leaving a splinter in to fester and cause infection?

At any rate, my very healthy body obviously adopted this foreign object and welcomed it. No infection, no pain, no problem.

One evening at yoga, I was in a pose and had a good opportunity to stare at the mark on my toe. I got nose-close to the object and that’s when I realized it was a nice-sized piece of wood, left over from the summer and lodged in my skin.

The minute I got home, I got out the supplies – needle, match, alcohol, tweezers, and the piece of wood just slipped out, though it was completed sealed in by skin. And I learned that splinters aren’t really dangerous even if they stay implanted for an extended period of time. (So long old wive’s tale!)

Meanwhile back at home, I got into a tangle with a large nail, and lost the battle, coming THIS CLOSE to needing stitches. My skin keloids and scars badly, and so though the nasty boo boo healed, I am left with ugly pink scars.

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While I was nursing the arm injury, I sliced my leg on something in my way, and put the usual first aid stuff on the cut, bandaged it, and a few days later, I had a nice pink bumpy looking infection.

I went to the store and bought this old fashioned remedy that I used to use for cuticle infections when I used to bite my nails, way back when. It’s called Itholchol – but more commonly is known to the old wives as “Black Salve” or “Drawing Salve” and it actually draws infection out of skin.

I used this stuff for a few days and I started itching and the infection was left as a simple blotch that looked like an allergic reaction. Next came the hydrocortosone, and my husband who was alarmed at the various phases of this curiosity on my leg, wanted me to go to a doctor. The splotch currently lives on but seems to be fading a bit, so I am going to wait still on this one before going to a doctor, something  I usually try to avoid at all costs.

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Update, it has slowly faded, just in time for another large cut to appear on my other leg.

Call me the walking wounded. Or Klutz. Whatever you prefer.

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