I am so, so scared.
It is taking a lot of self-control not to cut up my arm again. The current scars are only just becoming acceptable to show in public… I can’t fuck that up again.
I can’t wait for fall, when I can do it again and just wear long sleeves til they fade enough.
I need someone to be here with me, but it’s not anybody’s job.
I don’t know what to do.
I can’t stand to let my blood go.
So, kids, this is what happens when you try to carry out normal human adult tasks after a night out… you end up needing a nurse to patch you up with seven butterfly strips, a waterproof adhesive dressing, and a cotton sleeve to hold it all together.
All of this is ITCHY AS FUCK, so let this be a lesson to us all: drink responsibly. (And if your bicycle lock is fucking up, just borrow something sharp to cut it off; don’t try to unjam it manually, resulting in its eventual breaking open to reveal the sharp metal innards that make the combination work, as these will almost certainly come back to haunt you later.)
(well, none of it is strictly lying…)
human adult tasks
(things that human adults do, but mostly me.)
let this be a lesson to us all: drink responsibly
(because if i was sober i wouldn’t have accidentally cut so deep, and/or i would have been able to dress it properly on my own.)
And if your bicycle lock is fucking up, just borrow something sharp to cut it off; don’t try to unjam it manually, resulting in its eventual breaking open to reveal the sharp metal innards that make the combination work, as these will almost certainly come back to haunt you later.
(this is also good advice, and based on my own experiences lately. it is not, however, related to what happened to my arm.)
Saw a nurse today to have my arm redressed properly. She complimented me on how tightly I’d managed to do it with one arm, in the middle of the night, but she cut through the gauze and wrap I’d used, so I’ll need to get a new one… she was very sweet and kind. Asked me not to do it again - as a mother, she said; she has three children and four grandchildren, and as a mother, she wouldn’t want to see it happen again. It sounds condescending, but it was actually very nice.
Seven steri-strips, an adhesive dressing pad, a cotton sleeve, and a spare sleeve for when this one gets too dirty. A bag to keep it dry in the shower. I’m going back on Wednesday to have it changed.
I hope I’ve learned my lesson.