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Accident Prone
I have, it seems, become somewhat clumsily prone to injuring myself of late. I suppose a certain amount of straining and bruising was inevitable during the great house-move but I did seem to get more than my fair share.
Indeed one arm cultivated a sizeable colour-changing patch that, particularly when it was purple, was most impressive.
Also in this collection of injuries were a series of small paper-cuts from boxes (but they were barely noticeable) and a few scraped knuckles and crunchy back and neck muscles. Not bad for a couple of days’ work.
So until yesterday I thought I’d got off fairly lightly. But yesterday I unpacked a box of books (not mine - the flatmate’s, all mine are done), folded up the box and stacked it next to another one waiting to go for recycling.
At which point I cleverly managed to arrange for a side of a corrugated cardboard box to slice up and under my fingernail.
The volley of swearing and yelping which followed was quite vivid and pained I thought. But apparently it was only just enough to raise the attention of my flatmate who, when a momentary pause in the diatribe appeared as I shoved my finger in my mouth and ran to the kitchen, enquired from the safety of his room whether I was alright.
This slightly redundant question was later compounded by the observation that “those are nasty, there’s a lot of sensitive nerve endings under there”, a view I could only agree with, albeit through gritted teeth as I numbed my hand under the cold tap.
My God did it bleed. And my God did it throb.
Thank God for Tramadol I say. It’s only because of that I was able to cope with the pain until I went to bed. And an unexpectedly pleasant side-effect of the drug was that I slept incredibly soundly.
Based on this combination I think that serious opiates should be freely available. Nytol just doesn’t have the same clout.
Posted on July 17, 2007 | Filed Under My So-Called Life
Comments
Response left by Emma on July 18th, 2007
You see, there’s something a bit funny about that method of getting an injury. (Although the injury itself maks me wince.)
Mine, however, doesn’t even have an interesting or amusing cause. It’s just random.
Response left by Rob on July 20th, 2007
Got something to say?
I sympathise, I have fallen victim to the paper-cut gremlin on more than one occasion (damn essays having to printed out on paper) and cardboard boxes are definately the worst. Through lack of judgement I obtained a recent vicious cut on my tongue from the lid of a Cadbury Flake pudding….damn the tasty chcoclate treat.