2002-11-04 - 10:06 p.m.
THE BLISTER
There are several parts of this mothering gig that I am not particularly good at. Being a nurse is among those parts. It�s not that I�m too sensitive. I don�t faint at the sight of blood and I can look at autopsy photos at work without cringing. I�m not sure what the problem is. I simply have no patience with injury or illness, mine or anyone else�s. If the kids want a nurse, they�ll have to rely on their father. Except sometimes Dad is not around and when it comes to odd rashes or bumps in odd places, teenage girls want to talk to Mom. None of which explains why I have been selected to care for THE BLISTER.
THE BLISTER is no ordinary blister. It�s huge and in a strange place. Somehow, when she was off at a skating party in my skates, Day-Hay acquired THE BLISTER on the arch of her foot. Only the children of people with feet as flat as mine and Mr. Philately�s would even imagine getting a blister on their arch and most of them would settle for a little, tiny bumpy thing. But Day-Hay never does anything halfway. THE BLISTER is a capital letter blister because normal small letters cannot do it justice.
Bandaging the bottom of a foot is a difficult task under the best of circumstances. Day-Hay is a dancer. Day-Hay does taekwondo. Day-Hay is active. Bandaging her foot is an engineering nightmare. One can use a very large band-aid, but band-aids do not stick well to the bottom of a foot. One can use gauze and tape but flexible tape is required and the tape must go all the way around the foot so as not to pull free within ballet slippers and jazz shoes. It�s hard to appear calm and in control when you are winding the tape around the foot and the tape is trying to wind around your fingers, all at the same time.
Then there was the process, once THE BLISTER broke, of trimming the large flap of skin so it did not get pulled off and cause more damage. Mr. Philately found just the right scissors and then he wimped out and handed Day-Hay the scissors. Day-Hay would have to cut the flap herself. R�I�G�H�T! Tell me another fairy tale. Day-Hay took the scissors and whimpered. It was the whimpering that got me. The whimpering was not pathetic. It was just irritating. The task had to be done and someone had to do it (although I�m not sure why the foot had to be held over my bed at the time but, hey, some things are destined to remain mysteries.)
So, here I am, the official tender of THE BLISTER. I�d tell you what I think of the role but my comments would be blistering.
LAST YEAR: Monsters, Inc.
LAST FIVE ENTRIES:
Bullying
Just What the World Needs
The Little Glimpses
It�s All in How You Look at It
Thank You, Mary
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Copyright 2006 by Ellen |
