Still Smoking - Blisters on Blisters

This is a continuation of "Smoked Ham."  If you are new to my site, please click here to read that post first.





This morning, when I emerged from my drug-induced sleep, the dressing on my thigh had worked its way down to my knee.   So, I cut it off and took a look at my burns.  Not pretty.  Where the blisters had been yesterday, there were new ones, some of them weeping clear fluid, others ballooned out like little jellyfish.  By the time I changed into a skirt and top, most of the blisters had popped, and when I arrived at Urgent Care for my follow-up, my skirt was scattered with moist circles on the right side.

Yesterday, when I was there, I was quite the freak show.  Before I left, several nurses had come into the  exam room to see my burns.  I didn’t care.  The really freaky thing happened when a medical student came in the room and asked me if I would be willing to answer four questions to see if I qualified to participate in an study about alcohol use in patients who present themselves at walk-in clinics.  She promised me a $20 gift card from Kroger if I completed the survey!   

No shit.  The questions were about eating and exercise habits, alcohol and tobacco use.  When I answered “yes” to the one that asked if I drank, I qualified for the study.  

So, while I was waiting for John to get his stuff together to dress my burns, I answered a series of questions about my use of alcohol.  Some of the best ones involved whether or not I had been in jail in the last year, or if I were awaiting sentencing for a felony conviction.  I did not make this up.  Had I missed work or had family problems because of alcohol use?  And so it went.  By the time the young woman was finished interrogating me, I was ready to grab a bottle of rubbing alcohol out of the cabinet and take a giant swig.

Today, after John had taken a look at my burns, he started clucking his tongue and went to get another nurse who specializes in wound care.  She took a photo of the carnage and texted it to the Wound Center.

Then the doctor - not Dr. Patel from yesterday - but Dr. Longacre, who is the grand poo-bah of the facility, came in and drained all the blisters which had popped up since I arrived.  This is getting ugly.  Again, John did his best to dress my wounds and secure them in a manner that would, well, stay put. He even wrapped an Ace bandage around my leg.

I was sent home with instructions to do nothing except rest and to come back on Saturday for a dressing change.  They also gave me an appointment for Monday at the Wound Center.  

But, with all the burn cream smeared onto my leg, nothing would stay up.  By the time I arrived home the dressing was sagging down my leg.

That’s when I became (tah-dah) a genius.  I’m thinking about calling a patent lawyer, so any of you out there who might be tempted to steal my intellectual property, remember that every word on any of my blogs is copy-written!!

I cut the feet out of a pair of panty hose and pulled them on.  Drooping dressing problem solved.  (The fact that I actually had a pair of panty hose in my house is a topic for another post).  I do owe you an explanation for that.