This post has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I am in Ireland and the story I am about to share is not unlike very similar situations that have happened in my life both in Pittsburgh and in Nashville. This is a story that is extremely irrelevant to pretty much everyone on the planet’s life except my own (and my roommate who so graciously bestowed a Band-Aid upon me) but this is my corner of the internet so I’m going to share it.
Like many mornings, this morning I woke up with the intention of going for a run. I was a bit hungry, so I decided to eat an apple before embarking upon my athletic pursuit through the surrounding neighborhoods. As I was slicing my apple, my hand slipped and accidentally grazed my left thumb, leaving a flap of skin and a small but mighty river of blood in its wake. I wish I could say that this is the first time this has happened to me. Or that this is the first time this has happened to me whilst abroad. However, although I may be clumsy around cutlery, I refuse to be dishonest about this aspect of my identity, so I will admit that my hands are scarred with the evidence of similar trials from culinary mishaps past.
After a disappointed exclamation (not mad, just disappointed) under my breath, I quickly grabbed a paper towel and applied pressure to my fresh wound in order to stop the bleeding. After a few minutes of tending to my newfound injury, I realized that I would need a Band-Aid in order to make a full recovery. Unfortunately, when flying across the pond, the weight restriction to which my suitcase was subjected was quite strict and although Band-Aids weigh a rather miniscule amount, they simply were not on my mind as I tried to squish yet another sweater into my already-overweight suitcase. Needless to say, I was at a loss.
However, my resourceful mind kicked in almost immediately as I recalled my program leader explaining how unnecessarily elaborate our medical coverage was. Surely, with my travel insurance, I would be able to find a bandage on campus! However, I still wanted to go running and I had no idea where to look for UCD’s medical hub. As I continued to brainstorm and apply pressure, I remembered that I had brought athletic tape with me. (Weighs a bit more than Band-Aids, but Band-Aids are less than useful when one rolls an ankle whilst running and that seems to be a trend for me.) I ran to my room, grabbed my athletic tape and quickly started wrapping my thumb. Aha! I though to myself as I admired my ingenuity. All I had to do was rip the tape, but with one hand, it was quite impossible.
Continuing on my streak of using my surrounding resources to best benefit my well being, I grabbed the knife in order to cut the athletic tape and free my thumb from its bulky bondage. As I brought the knife towards the pesky piece of tape, the tip slipped and plunged into a different finger. That finger quickly started bleeding as I tried again (this time successfully) to dislodge my bandaged thumb from the rest of the tape roll. I quickly grabbed another piece of the paper towel, dabbed finger number two, and wrapped it as well. After disposing of the evidence of my medical battle, I departed for my run (a bit later than intended) and eventually made my way back to my apartment, at which time my roommate, out of the kindness of her heart, presented me with a travel first aid kid that included a Band-Aid.
One may ask why I decided to share this story. Does further analysis reveal some deep-seated philosophical meaning? The answer is no. It seems to be a trend of mine to tell stories without much of a point, plot, rising action, or conclusion. My “stories” tend to simply be a statement of facts or observations. So I decided to share a story that had a plot and potentially some entertainment value but still stayed true to my storytelling roots of irrelevance. That is all.
