Mojo's Carnival of Smiles

These are all the posts I made after seriously injuring myself, describing the accident and my eventual recovery. Many of them were written under the influence of prescription drugs. If you ever got high or drunk and convinced yourself you were really funny so you got a tape recorder to record just how incredibly marvelously hysterical you were, and then played it back when you were sober only to discover it wasn't funny at all.... wait, where was I? Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading these as much as I enjoyed suffering third degree burns for your entertainment. You're welcome.

Rumor Control

So many people have asked me questions and, like the childhood game, as news gets around the details change until people tell me, "Hey, I hear your house exploded or something". So here are the actual facts, for those who care:

1. What exploded?

My well pump. Not my house, not my hot water heater. My well pump. The pump that pumps water from the well into the house and pressurizes the entire water system.


2. How on earth did your hot water heater explode?

It wasn't my hot water heater. It was my well pump. See above.


So last night I said to heck with fear, to heck with pain--I am taking (gasp!) A SHOWER!

...and I DID!

Of course, it was not my usual boiling hot melt-the-first-three-layers-of-skin-off-me shower. It was tepid. And I didn't use soap or scrub. But this morning I magically feel clean.


I even stuck my arm in there for a while. It did okay. Took the direct spray pretty good. Didn't even sting until I got out and the air hit it. I may live yet.

Reality Check....

Okay, I'm seeing the doctor later today for the first time in two weeks and I'm getting WAY too worked up and optimistic to be good for me. I'm at the point now where, if he doesn't let me uncover my back for good I will throw myself into the Slough of Despond. Well, maybe not that bad. But I am probably in for a bitter, bitter disappointment.


My arm is hurting less and itching more. I suppose that's a good thing. Except the itching wakes me up at night like the pain never did.

If I were a medical researcher, I think my contribution to society would be some sort of anti-itch pill.



For some reason even the paper tape is ripping me to bits. Changing the dressing is becoming an ordeal for an entirely different reason. God never intended certain parts of the human body to have tape applied to them and ripped off twice a day.

We are trying to come up with all sorts of innovative ways of taping, but it is all turning into agony.

I suspect the culprit is my ability to take showers. I was building up a pretty hefty half-inch or so of tape adhesive, which really cushioned the ripping off process. But now that I can bathe much more regularly and much more properly the glory of taking showers seems to take its toll in other areas...

Finding a Source

Keeping my dressing supplies up-to-date is becoming more and more difficult. For despite our smiling relationships with the various pharmacies we are pillaging, they are actually sort of LYING to us and not reordering that which we so obviously need and want. I pity anyone else within a hundred miles of where I live who may suffer a large injury and require large dressings, because I am systematically wiping out every pharmacy I find.


Weekly Update Number 4

A little late, due to the Columbus Day holiday. But it's my one month anniversary!

Things are steadily improving, as evidenced by my tendency to blog about things again other than my poor pathetic self. I am almost totally off painkillers except for a single tiny naproxen sodium I take at night to cut down the very slight skin-deep stinging that might keep me awake. The weekend my arm was a bit stingy, but it's a surface sting.


Weekly Update Number 5.

Happy Friday the Thirteenth! Hope it proves to be a lucky day for me, since I'll be going to the doctor's this morning.

Last doctor visit I prayed and prayed I'd get the dressings off my back, and of course it didn't happen. This time for some reason (maybe to prevent the crushing disappointment) I really don't care one way or another. I'd prefer not to need to tape up my back anymore, but if push comes to shove, I'm totally "eh".


In Which Mojo Finally Gets Her Comeuppance.

People have commented, sometimes with a tad of irritation, that Mojo has been rather lah-ti-dah about her injuries. Not to mock people that have suffered severe burns, for Mojo knows there are people out there far worse than she will hopefully ever endure, but Mojo tends not to dwell on negative stuff and instead likes to focus on skipping and dancing and tra-la-la.