This is a sponsored post for BAND-AID®.
When I think back to my childhood, I can
remember spending a lot of it in tears. Not because I had a traumatic
childhood, no it was great.
It was just because we spent all of our
time, when not in school, playing. Playing in the cubby house and on the
street. Going to the park and hanging out at the creek at the end of our
cul-de-sac.
So, why all the tears?
Because I was a scrappy kid who never said
no to a dare, and when you combine that with an inherited klutz-ism gene, quite
often the outcome of my dares resulted in an injury of varied proportions.
Injuries that remain as fresh in my mind
today as the day it happened include, but are not limited, to the following.
Riding my BMX down the big hill
with no hands and losing half my face to the bitumen.
Losing control of a quad-bike
at my Pop’s farm and steering it at alarming speed into a huge cactus that grew
smack bang in the middle of a paddock.
Being on the receiving end of a
rock, thrown at me by the school bully.
Being bucked off a pony into a
barbed wire fence.
Getting onto roller-skates for
the first time with an inflated sense of self-confidence.
There are more, but those are the ones the
stick out in my mind.
Each trauma would be treated with a swab of
that red Mercurochrome, which would stain your skin for days, and topped with a
Band-Aid. Then as the days passed, that Band-Aid would become filthy and
stickier, until Mum would rip it off, taking half the scab with it.
And then we would start all over again.
More red stuff. A fresh Band-Aid.
A really
good stack could result in weeks of healing because of this vicious cycle.
Why, I could even point out some of these
scars today. My legs are like a map of
my childhood accidents. The tears were always soothed by Mum, who would whack
on a band-aid and send me on my merry way.
Fast forward to modern times and I am now
the dispenser of Band-Aids.
You know the signs. Kids playing, making
noise and running around like mad. An awkward sounding bump followed by 2
seconds of silence.
And
then the sirens of doom erupt!
First thing I do is run to the fridge and
get an ice pack. Before sighting the victim, I ask any accompanying children if
there is much blood. For you see, I don’t like blood and I have to get in a
different mind set before going in to apply treatment.
Most of the time, there is not too much
blood. THANK GOD AND TOUCH ALL THE WOOD….
Ice pack, calming words and then the magic
Band-Aid is applied. Depending on the severity of the accident, 9 times out of
ten the game is resumed quickly and I can try to return to my former Zen-like
state of mind, albeit slightly traumatized.
I think I am dealing out at least half a
dozen Band-Aids a week at the moment. I can unwrap one quicker than a Vegas dealer can shuffle a deck.
Interesting
side note? Band-Aids were invented in 1920, by Johnson & Johnson cotton
buyer Earl Dickson, who stuck some of his cotton onto adhesive strips to help
his wife Josephine out. She was a klutz like me, except in the kitchen.
What was the biggest stack you had as a kid?
Are you the Chief Band-Aid Dispenser at your place?
This
post was proudly bought to you by new BAND-AID® QUILT-AIDTM
Technology, a non-stick pad that draws fluid away from the wound. BAND-AID® strips help cuts heal twice as fast
as uncovered cuts, which means healing the hurt faster.
