I’m so glad you came for coffee. Have a seat. Yeah, it’s gross, right? Sure I’ll tell you how it happened.
On the third day of our vacation I banged my right foot on the Seadoo trailer. Considering we were at a very busy gas station I thought I did well to keep my wails and curses from all but the closest people. The Viking was as sympathetic as always.
“What the fuck did you do now?” There wasn’t a hint of concern in his voice.
“I banged my foot! And there’s blood!”
A loving person would stop fueling and check my injuries but he opted for the ‘fuelling is more important than you are’ approach. I was left to poke at my toe – the main victim in the accident – and wonder if I could die from blood loss. There were two (2!) fairly big cuts after all. What if a major artery was nicked? Do big toes have major arteries?
Disappointingly, the blood started clotting – too soon in my opinion. I was hoping for a small puddle of blood congealing around my foot; surely he would spare a little sympathy for that.
“I’m done. You can go get the change.” He called as he finished up.
You see?! Zero sympathy! If he cut his toe in 2 places and there was blood I would definitely have sympathy.
“Fine!” I said as I hobbled back to the cashier. “If I die from blood loss before I get back, you are totally to blame. Make sure you tell the kids that!” Unfortunately, I didn’t die so there was no accountability and he just got away with severe indifference. There is no justice in this world.
When we got back to the trailer I tried making my toe more noticeable. I called attention to a cat toy and pointed to it with my red, bleeding toe. He looked at the toy and completely ignored my toe which annoyed me.
I take care of everyone! You got a cold? Here, let me get you some Neo-Citran and a warm blanket. Does your back hurt? Let me get you some muscle cream and the heating pad. You need a ride? Let me drop what I’m doing and help you out. Feeling sad today? Come here and I’ll baby you with a fuzzy blanket, a cup of tea and Netflix.
But WHO BABY’S (BABIES) ME?! I get a cold and I have to go to the store myself to buy some meds, come home and make my own damned Neo-Citran and find my own damned blanket. When I’m sad? Pfft. My back hurts? I go find my own pills and keep going.
I’ve been taking care of people for over 30 years now. Yet I can count on one finger how many times someone has told me to sit down and handed me a warm blanket while they fixed me a cup of Neo-Citran. So when I bang my damned toe and it bleeds and it hurts like hell……someone had better give me some fucking attention! How hard can it be?
“Oh Honey! That looks nasty! I bet it hurt. Let me get some disinfectant and antibiotic cream. Would you like a cup of tea? A warm blanket? Can I tuck you into bed?”
See? Not hard at all!
Finally, I poked one of the cuts until it started bleeding again and said, “It’s bleeding again. And my beautiful neon pink toe polish with the lovely white flower is ruined.” Then I lifted my foot so it was inches from his face. “Does it look infected to you?”
“No. I think it’s fine if you quit fucking with it.”
“I don’t think it’s fine and it feels like it’s getting infected!” Of course it was fine and would heal nicely if I just quit fucking with it, but I was fully invested by now and there was no going back.
“So what do you want me to do?” The Viking was annoyed. For some reason Facebook was more important than the gangrene growing on my toe!
So I went to the bathroom and got a bottle of peroxide and a cotton ball. “You could disinfect it.”
I saw the question in his eyes. Why can’t you do it yourself? Maybe he read something in my eyes because he sighed heavily then rummaged around in a cupboard to produce an enormous First Aid Kit. I said, “Holy Shit!”
He opened it up; it had everything you would expect a well-stocked emergency room would have. It was almost as big as the First Aid Kit in the garage at home, and only slightly bigger than the First Aid Kit he had in the house. And then I remembered there is another one in one of the Seadoos and one in my car as well.
The Viking has been stockpiling First Aid Kits! Why would he think he needs a Trauma Kit around us at all times?
And that took the wind right out of my sails. Sonofabitch! I hate it when this kind of thing happens. So he actually does care…………but not in the way I recognize care and when I finally do recognize his brand of care I have to accept it and forget about the kind of care I really wanted because I’m a fucking adult! No cup of tea, no warm blanket and no getting tucked into bed with a kiss on my forehead.
FUCK!
What I got instead was a disinfectant swab made of cardboard banged repeatedly on the cuts until I said it didn’t feel infected anymore, a swipe of antibiotic cream and the joy of putting the First Aid Kit away.
2 weeks later it became apparent that an ugly dark purple splotch was taking over my toe nail. It’s now living proof that I should have been coddled and an opportunity was missed. But…..we have 5 industrial sized First Aid kits which proves The Viking loves me. I guess.
And that’s how my toe got gross.
Have a pleasant week.
Thanks Betty! To you, as well. :o)
I’m glad you didn’t die from blood loss in the end. True, you didn’t have the satisfaction of looking down on him as he was forced to explain his appalling lack of sympathy. On the other hand, it does mean that you stuck around long enough to discover that he does care (after his own fashion).
I do mourn the absence of coddles sometimes but he IS a Viking after all. What did I think I was getting? On the flip side, he doesn’t expect Any coddles from me. Just some duct tape and the handle of his axe to bite on if necessary. :o)