Fartleking Around

So, this is what I get for being lazy, for doing my interval workout on the treadmill instead of out in the fresh air where I belong.

While not technically road rash, it sure does look like it. And it hurts like it. I know 'cause I know from road rash. The outside of my left leg still bears the faintly mottled scar of my failed attempt to roller blade my booty into J-Lo shape about five years ago. So, you'd think running would be the absolute safest thing for Moi, right? I mean, how hard is it to put one foot in front of the other. Especially on the treadmill.

It's not entirely my fault, though.

Fergie's "London Bridge" is exceptionally useful for cranking up the speed to a bazillion miles an hour for an effective interval workout. Trouble is, I was too busy singing along with the Dutchess's lament about her shoes that I neglected to pay attention to where I was putting my own.

Anyway.

So I decided to treat this myself. Not so much because I hate doctors, but because it's such a trial just starting the process of going to one. Call the Primary Care Physician. Get an appointment in 5 bazillion light years. See the Primary Care Physician. Have her tsk tsk over my wound. Watch as she considers sending me to a specialist. Roll my eyes as she decides to. Get that appointment in another 5 bazillion light years. Then discover specialist does nothing but prescribe antibiotics and some burn cream. All of which I already have at home thanks to a first aid kit and Ivan, but for which I now have to pay the specialist 12 bazillion dollars.

So, after Googling "road rash treatment," I discovered that the prevailing treatment of choice is not to let the wound dry and then form a scab but instead to keep the injury as moist as possible and covered with a permeable type of bandage along the lines of Tegaderm. Which is like a piece of cellophane that goes over the wound and is meant to act like a scab for the 7-10 days it takes for the burn to heal itself. But according to box warning:


I see several things wrong here.

1. If all you have is a "minor wound," then it doesn't really need treatment, now does it? So the ten bazillion dollars I just spent on four Tegaderm patches? I may as well have flushed it down the toilette.

and:

2. How am I supposed to discern infection from plain ol' OUCH? After all, I fell down – hard! – onto a strip of rubber zooming along at the equivalent of a 6 minute mile. Of course my knee is red! Of course it itches! Of course it's slightly swollen! So I thought some of the yellow gunk that leaked outta there a few hours after putting on the Tegaderm patch was a sign of infection, but oh no. The instruction manual tells me this is perfectly "normal," but if in "doubt," go see a doctor. So I'm now supposed to be an expert on distinguishing one kind of puss from the other?

You gotta hand it to the medical profession. This is quite a racket they got going on. Since no one really knows what contributes to the body's healing process, it's just best you don't try to handle things yourself. Instead, to be safe, empty the shoe fund, and leave it to the professionals.