Every size for every need

I've done it again. This time, it's from opening a Costco-sized box of Little Bites. I promise you, corrugated cardboard boxes are dangerous! Oh wait, the Little Bites box actually wasn't even corrugated. All the other boxes I handled were. Well, maybe it being just straight up cardboard actually made it worse. Thankfully, the cut isn't anywhere on my fingers but on the side of the wrist. It still hurts but I don't think it will impact my guitar lesson tomorrow.

Some packages arrived today. My Ulta order which included my L'Occitane shower oil and face masks for my daughter, sweatshirts from the Gap. My babygirl has this vision of a long black lace skirt going well with a white sweatshirt and a collared shirt on the inside... for the winter orchestra concert. This would not be my first choice but I said that if she wanted to try it, I will have a look. I imagine she will ask to wear the high-heeled lace up Dr. Marten's with it. It's like boho (the skirt) meets grunge (the boots) meets preppy (the top/s). Or we could just call it an identity crisis. My take on it was, a sweatshirt isn't formal enough for a concert. If it were up to me, she would be in a long gown hahaha. 

Well, the cut is still bleeding. I don't think this Storm Trooper Band-Aid is doing the job. Let me switch it. I wonder which of these 198 bandages will be best for this purpose. I learned quite a bit about wound care during one of the most depressing times in my life, a post-op infection after having my second child. I had a temperature for days, which I took care of with some Advil and as the meds attempted to cool my body, it would result on soaking 3-5 t-shirts in sweat over the course of a night. By morning, I would still have a fever until I finally decided to go see the doctor and that's what led to the discovery of the infection at the incision site. Thankfully, it decided to take care of itself and my body was able to expel the offending parties on its own but the result was a gaping hole in my lower abdomen. Instead of stitching me up, the doctors sent me to wound care where they removed all signs of the infection non-surgically and then patched me up with natural materials to allow the wound to close itself up naturally while preventing another infection. I was introduced to the world of saline sprays, Medihoney, silver nitrate, all types of gauze and pads and tape. That was my world for weeks after the baby was born. Even after I was sent home with a picc line, I still had a nurse coming to my home to re-dress the wound daily until finally, a Christmas gift like no other, my nurse said to me on her Christmas Eve visit that I no longer needed her services because I was better. 

When insurance arranges for home care after such incidents, the thing that arrives at your home first would be the supplies needed by the nurse. It was everything she would need, even some anti-bacterial hand soap. Curiously absent was Neosporin as I was told that a lot of people tended to be allergic to one or two ingredients in it. They liked Medihoney in its place. It's this yellow goo in a tube which they applied with long cotton-tipped swabs. Made of honey, as the name suggests. When the nurse stopped coming to the house, what I had left was the most comprehensive wound care kit known to man: 2x16 quart size Sterilite boxes of supplies that I refreshed with fresh bandages every so often. When my daughter fell off her bike in a major way or injured herself while playing sports in the parking lot that her Catholic school seemed to think was an appropriate place to have Gym classes, my kit came to the rescue. I have Band-Aid products in every size. And I still buy the giant packs when Costco has them on sale. 

Playlist Recommendation: Everything You Want, Vertical Horizon