Two weeks ago I foolishly chose to swift some large sheets of wet, broken glass in the garden without putting on gloves first. Sliced my right thumb open, a big flap of bloody skin with some meat on it too - tasty. Trooped off to the nearby cottage hospital, had it sealed with some steri-strips and a bandage the same of Omaha wrapped round the foolish. Below you can see my swathed digit in all its glory - hours of comedy fun, it was.
A week later the bandage and steri-strips came off to reveal the wound. The treatment had done its job, my wound was knitting back together nicely. The treatment nurse told me I'd have a scar - cool! At least I won't feel left out next time I'm on a deep sea fishing boat hunting a great white shark and the crazed captain decides to regales me with glimpses of his war wounds. Below you can see a rather blurry photo of my thumb soon after unveiling.
One week on and the wound is much happier. You know the special effects in 1980s horror films always looked kind of cheesy and fake? That's what my scar looks like now. There's a frowning mouth on my thumb. At any second I expect it to open up and taunt me in a Nightmare on Elm Street stylee. The thumb's healing nicely, but does feel like I've suffered a simultaneous sprain and bee sting. Still, could have been much worse. Onwards!