I've always been a little accident prone, clumsy, dangerous, a walking disaster. I was the type of kid to fall and scrape my knee on a semi-regular basis growing up. Then, at six years old a took scraping my knee a little further; I fell and scraped my face and a good chunk of my one eyebrow off. That was a fun experience.
I was never allowed to use my brother's pogo or his scooter, and whenever I went bike riding or ice skating I always had to wear a helmet and other safety gear. Hayden was allowed to play the rough sports, have the dangerous toys, and allowed to be at risk for injuries.
My brother was a rough and tough kind of kid. He had fallen off the deck my dad was building and landed on the rocks beneath it, unscathed. He's leaned against an outdoor heater and didn't notice until he had a nasty and disgusting third degree burn on his one arm. He spilled an entire frying pan full of hot oil down his other arm several months ago and was fine after a few weeks. He's taken a hard hit while playing football.
I grew up relatively fine, no broken bones or major sprains. When I was in grade five I fell playing man hunt and hit my head a little too hard and was sent home from school early. I also jammed my finger pretty bad playing volleyball in school, and that was bad enough to get an x-ray and my fingers taped up. When I played extracurricular sports I always managed to get hit in the face with a ball, be it a soccer ball or basketball. No cooking accidents except for maybe brushing my arm against a hot pan. No outdoor injuries except for falling down the Wentworth Stairs.
Hayden was a rough and tough kid, I was always told I was clumsy and accident prone. And apparently I am.
A week or so ago I cut my hand opening a can. It wasn't too bad of a cut, it didn't need stitches regardless of bleeding everywhere. I also burned myself a bit on hot grease splashing up from putting frozen onion rings in a fryer. Nothing major either, only a small scar. A few days after that I twisted my ankle walking to the grocery store; no big deal either. It was a twist you can walk off. A normal amount of injuries in a week's time.
Then of course I step on a freaking carpet staple. These guys aren't the small little things that hold an essay together. These guys punch through carpet, the foam underneath, and go straight into the flooring under that foam. They're about a centimeter long, making them almost the size of my thumbnail. Now I should state that I have extremely calloused feet. Feet so calloused I could walk on a gravel driveway without being uncomfortable. So when I must have first stepped on the staple I must not have felt it, not feeling the little prick that most people notice. The next step is what drove it home, pushing both prongs fully into my heel. I swore briefly and pulled out the staple, muttering a lot of curse words under my breath. Of course I had just moved in, and I still haven't bought a first aid kit, but I had cinnamon bun scented hand sanitizer and a single band aid kicking around in my purse from my can accident back home in Hamilton.
So I spread the baked good scented sanitizer on my foot and threw a band aid over top. After ten minutes or so I had bled through the band aid, but it was one of those cheap little guys, the kind that fall off with sweat. I put more sanitizer on and threw a thick sock over it. I counted back the years to my last tetanus shot to make sure I was okay. It was less than five years ago, as I am a huge wimp when it comes to needles and spent a year avoiding getting the booster shot.
I was fine, other than the annoying pain in my heel. That night it was best to avoid putting pressure and weight on my foot, it hurt to do so. Today it was still a little sore, more throbbing than actual pain.
So yes, in just over a week I burned myself, cut myself, twisted my ankle, and stepped on a carpet staple. Accident prone or just unlucky? I really don't know, I just know I should invest in some band aids and maybe rubbing alcohol or peroxide.
I was never allowed to use my brother's pogo or his scooter, and whenever I went bike riding or ice skating I always had to wear a helmet and other safety gear. Hayden was allowed to play the rough sports, have the dangerous toys, and allowed to be at risk for injuries.
My brother was a rough and tough kind of kid. He had fallen off the deck my dad was building and landed on the rocks beneath it, unscathed. He's leaned against an outdoor heater and didn't notice until he had a nasty and disgusting third degree burn on his one arm. He spilled an entire frying pan full of hot oil down his other arm several months ago and was fine after a few weeks. He's taken a hard hit while playing football.
I grew up relatively fine, no broken bones or major sprains. When I was in grade five I fell playing man hunt and hit my head a little too hard and was sent home from school early. I also jammed my finger pretty bad playing volleyball in school, and that was bad enough to get an x-ray and my fingers taped up. When I played extracurricular sports I always managed to get hit in the face with a ball, be it a soccer ball or basketball. No cooking accidents except for maybe brushing my arm against a hot pan. No outdoor injuries except for falling down the Wentworth Stairs.
Hayden was a rough and tough kid, I was always told I was clumsy and accident prone. And apparently I am.
A week or so ago I cut my hand opening a can. It wasn't too bad of a cut, it didn't need stitches regardless of bleeding everywhere. I also burned myself a bit on hot grease splashing up from putting frozen onion rings in a fryer. Nothing major either, only a small scar. A few days after that I twisted my ankle walking to the grocery store; no big deal either. It was a twist you can walk off. A normal amount of injuries in a week's time.
Then of course I step on a freaking carpet staple. These guys aren't the small little things that hold an essay together. These guys punch through carpet, the foam underneath, and go straight into the flooring under that foam. They're about a centimeter long, making them almost the size of my thumbnail. Now I should state that I have extremely calloused feet. Feet so calloused I could walk on a gravel driveway without being uncomfortable. So when I must have first stepped on the staple I must not have felt it, not feeling the little prick that most people notice. The next step is what drove it home, pushing both prongs fully into my heel. I swore briefly and pulled out the staple, muttering a lot of curse words under my breath. Of course I had just moved in, and I still haven't bought a first aid kit, but I had cinnamon bun scented hand sanitizer and a single band aid kicking around in my purse from my can accident back home in Hamilton.
So I spread the baked good scented sanitizer on my foot and threw a band aid over top. After ten minutes or so I had bled through the band aid, but it was one of those cheap little guys, the kind that fall off with sweat. I put more sanitizer on and threw a thick sock over it. I counted back the years to my last tetanus shot to make sure I was okay. It was less than five years ago, as I am a huge wimp when it comes to needles and spent a year avoiding getting the booster shot.
I was fine, other than the annoying pain in my heel. That night it was best to avoid putting pressure and weight on my foot, it hurt to do so. Today it was still a little sore, more throbbing than actual pain.
So yes, in just over a week I burned myself, cut myself, twisted my ankle, and stepped on a carpet staple. Accident prone or just unlucky? I really don't know, I just know I should invest in some band aids and maybe rubbing alcohol or peroxide.
