...
On the one hand, it still freaks me out that you can't just go to the doctor and know you're getting the best help, but I gotta get over that. I keep harking back to the time I stepped up onto the little dock in my back yard and the board broke. I guess I still had enough spring to my step or something, because the board flew up and was prevented from smacking me in the kisser by my hand in front of me that was holding a mug full of coffee.
My stoneware mug handle twisting out of my hand broke the tip end of my pinky finger and my foot dropping down into broken board land got cut pretty badly. I went to the clinic because my hand was turning awful colors right away. While I was there she slathered some silver goo on my ankle. She said it would help the wound heal faster.
Holy shit. Yes. You couldn't tell it had been there three days later.
I mean, sure, it wasn't that big a deal. It was definitely worse than a scrape, but not some gaping wound either. Still, it really was bad enough to warrant some antiseptic and a dressing. So. Three days. Three days from bleeding wound to... gone.
My mug made it through unscathed. I love those mugs.
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