To Carthage then I came, burning, burning

[desperance]

I took my burn to the pharmacy two days ago, as it wasn't getting any better. Now I have Special Dressings, and a degree of reassurance. After the last time I hurt my hand and ended up in hospital for a week, I guess it's inherently reassuring every time a professional doesn't shriek and have me instantly incarcerated.

The trouble with Special Dressings, though, is that they're not adhesive: which means they need to be wrapped around with sticky stuff, which, um, turns out not to be particularly sticky. At the moment I am adding strata at every turn, layer on layer, apparently on the principle that sooner or later it will become so massy that it will acquire its own gravitic attraction and Cling by Physics. As we all must, in the end.

In other news, today is apparently a good day for my dictionary to let me down. Twice. It doesn't have iconodule; it doesn't have stambouline. (Why, yes, I am reading Jason Goodwin again. Why do you ask?)

Comments

[badbookworm]

I have this ghastly thing with the sticky type of hospital dressings (mepore and suchlike), which is that I'm apparently allergic to them, because they dissolve my skin. Seriously. I had this cyst removed from my breast/underarm, which wasn't a huge deal or at least paled into insignificance once the round of dissolved skin started up.