My leukemia's back.

[drumstick diva]

I was making fudge once (teenager) wanted to test if it was cool enough to cut. So I stuck my pinky finger in that. Yikes, such pain and the fudge stuck to it, wouldn't rinse off. Got a really nice blister from it. Also learned NEVER to do THAT again!!

 

[Alaskan]

I was making fudge once (teenager) wanted to test if it was cool enough to cut. So I stuck my pinky finger in that. Yikes, such pain and the fudge stuck to it, wouldn't rinse off. Got a really nice blister from it. Also learned NEVER to do THAT again!!

Eeeew.

I guess it would work like that.

 

[Blooie]

Worst burn I ever got was from my brother. Ma and Dad had taken Linda, Lori and Bev to their school conferences one evening and Ma told me to take a couple of Swanson pot pies out and Ron and I could have those for supper. The timer went off while I was in the bathroom so Ronnie decided he could take them out of the oven. He grabbed the potholders and just as I came around the corner of the kitchen he spun around with the cookie sheet holding the two pot pies. One slid into the other, flipping it off the cookie sheet and top side down onto my bare upper thigh. (I was wearing shorts, Bruce!!)

That bubbling hot pot pie ran slowly down my leg, burning all the way and burning everywhere it splattered. I remember screaming, Ronnie screaming, and incredible pain. I didn’t know what to do - I was only like 13 at the time, but for some reason my much younger brother said that we had to put butter on it. He grabbed the butter out of the fridge and tried to help me get the pie off....not easy to do in a moving target. I was hopping around that kitchen like I was possessed! Then he just took the butter off the dish and slapped it on the first place he could see bare skin. Oh, it felt so good in that spot. I thought it was the butter but I learned later that it was the coldness of the butter.

Then he ran across the street to my Uncle Orvis and they both came hightailing it over. By now the butter was making the burn feel worse, if that was possible. Uncle Orvis got things calmed down a bit, called an ambulance, and that was my first and only ride in one until my heart attack a couple of years ago. We couldn’t call Ma and Dad - no cells back then and we didn’t know the conference schedule so we weren’t sure which school they were even at. Orvis sent Ronnie over to stay with my aunt and went with me to the hospital, thank heavens! He left a quick scribbled note for my folks on the table. I was never so glad to see anyone in my life as I was to see them come rushing into the emergency room. I don’t remember a lot after that....just IVs in my arms and blessed drugs relieving that pain. About a week later I had my first skin graft.

I healed without too much scarring, but my brother was scarred for years. The guilt was a lot for a little boy to handle. He said once, when he was in his late teens, “ I can’t even imagine the pain of such burns. I was so afraid you were going to die and that would be such horrible way to die.” Sadly his own son, 8 year old Coty, died just an awful death in a house fire many years later.

 

[N F C]

Worst burn I ever got was from my brother. Ma and Dad had taken Linda, Lori and Bev to their school conferences one evening and Ma told me to take a couple of Swanson pot pies out and Ron and I could have those for supper. The timer went off while I was in the bathroom so Ronnie decided he could take them out of the oven. He grabbed the potholders and just as I came around the corner of the kitchen he spun around with the cookie sheet holding the two pot pies. One slid into the other, flipping it off the cookie sheet and top side down onto my bare upper thigh. (I was wearing shorts, Bruce!!)

That bubbling hot pot pie ran slowly down my leg, burning all the way and burning everywhere it splattered. I remember screaming, Ronnie screaming, and incredible pain. I didn’t know what to do - I was only like 13 at the time, but for some reason my much younger brother said that we had to put butter on it. He grabbed the butter out of the fridge and tried to help me get the pie off....not easy to do in a moving target. I was hopping around that kitchen like I was possessed! Then he just took the butter off the dish and slapped it on the first place he could see bare skin. Oh, it felt so good in that spot. I thought it was the butter but I learned later that it was the coldness of the butter.

Then he ran across the street to my Uncle Orvis and they both came hightailing it over. By now the butter was making the burn feel worse, if that was possible. Uncle Orvis got things calmed down a bit, called an ambulance, and that was my first and only ride in one until my heart attack a couple of years ago. We couldn’t call Ma and Dad - no cells back then and we didn’t know the conference schedule so we weren’t sure which school they were even at. Orvis sent Ronnie over to stay with my aunt and went with me to the hospital, thank heavens! He left a quick scribbled note for my folks on the table. I was never so glad to see anyone in my life as I was to see them come rushing into the emergency room. I don’t remember a lot after that....just IVs in my arms and blessed drugs relieving that pain. About a week later I had my first skin graft.

I healed without too much scarring, but my brother was scarred for years. The guilt was a lot for a little boy to handle. He said once, when he was in his late teens, “ I can’t even imagine the pain of such burns. I was so afraid you were going to die and that would be such horrible way to die.” Sadly his own son, 8 year old Coty, died just an awful death in a house fire many years later.

Good grief B, that had to have burned like the devil! And your poor brother, what guilt.

 

[Blooie]

What the heck are you still doing up? Pretending to be Diva? Do you know it’s after 3:00 am?? You go get yer teeth brushed, get into your jammies, find Mr. Bear, and march yer hind end right into bed, young lady, or I’ll have you up at dawn scrubbing floors! Oh, sorry, Debby....I was still back in the day, I guess. I can’t sleep either. <sigh>

 

[N F C]

What the heck are you still doing up? Pretending to be Diva? Do you know it’s after 3:00 am?? You go get yer teeth brushed, get into your jammies, find Mr. Bear, and march yer hind end right into bed, young lady, or I’ll have you up at dawn scrubbing floors! Oh, sorry, Debby....I was still back in the day, I guess. I can’t sleep either. <sigh>

I tried to sleep, honest I did. But my brain just keeps running in circles so here I am.

 

[N F C]

What the heck are you still doing up? Pretending to be Diva? Do you know it’s after 3:00 am?? You go get yer teeth brushed, get into your jammies, find Mr. Bear, and march yer hind end right into bed, young lady, or I’ll have you up at dawn scrubbing floors! Oh, sorry, Debby....I was still back in the day, I guess. I can’t sleep either. <sigh>

So why are you up now too?

 

[Blooie]

Ye p, me too. Hurting pretty good tonight (this morning?) and can’t get comfortable in any position. But shhhhh....don’t tell anybody. I have my rep as a tough cookie to uphold. Tonight this cookie kinda feels like how the cookie crumbles.

 

[N F C]

Ye p, me too. Hurting pretty good tonight (this morning?) and can’t get comfortable in any position. But shhhhh....don’t tell anybody. I have my rep as a tough cookie to uphold. Tonight this cookie kinda feels like how the cookie crumbles.

Even tough cookies have their limits. Or is it that they have their expiration dates? You don't have to be tough all the time B.

Sorry to hear you're hurting. When you can't get comfy, that sure makes sleeping hard.

 

[Blooie]

And reading, and eating, and....just about everything, I guess. Know what I really want? A hot shower! Even better, a long, soaking bath or time in our hot tub. But the tub is high, and I can’t lift my legs over it to get a bath or a shower without Ken’s help, and he’s gone again. Hot tub is drained and blown out for the winter but I couldn’t get into it by myself either anyway so it’s moot point.

Once when Linda was so sick she said to me, “Do you know what 10 minutes of self pity gets you? It gets you 10 minutes of focusing on your problems. Most of the time you can sort your mind out in that time and be done with it. But do you know what 10 additional minutes of self-pity gets you? It gets you 10 extra minutes of pity you wasted on the wrong person when someone else may need your 10 minutes of sympathy more.” Shoot, I didn’t listen very well....I’m already into 45 minutes with no end in sight!