Camo

I was performing a good deed. While performing said deed, I peeled back a small portion of my left pinky.

 

You know how you don’t realize the severity of something initially? This was one of those times.

 

I must be getting soft in my vintage years. When I realized I needed to either cut the little thick flap of skin off, or clean it up and press it back down on my finger, well, I nearly blew beets. I was a little nauseous.

 

I bled the prettiest Aggie maroon you’ve ever seen, beautiful healthy blood.

 

My little trusty first aid kit is always in my car, for hiking purposes, or for good deeds gone awry.

 

Why have I not rifled through this little kit before? Yes, there is a small pair of bandage scissors, tape, gauze, antiseptic wipes, and a few other odds and ends. No Neosporin, no bandaids, not even a battlefield tourniquet. (One should ALWAYS have a tourniquet, or ten.) 

 

I’ve bled enough to clean the wound, for now. I rip open the antiseptic wipe, cleaning up the remainder of my messy finger, and gently slide my skin back in place.

 

After stopping by the laundry and loading clothes into the washers, I pull over to a nifty little old school pharmacy. I exit the pharmacy with triple antibiotic ointment and camouflage bandaids.

 

It wasn’t the antibiotic ointment that settled my queasy stomach. It was the bandaid. Bandaids work every time. And mine was camo. Not Realtree, not digital camo, but plain old-school Army green camo bandaids.

 

I feel all better tonight.

 

Perhaps I need to find glitter bandaids too.

 

Camo with glitter would be even better.