Not a Bubo!

It's not a bubo!

It was for education.  Or it started out as something for education.  

When I told Fran I would do anything to help with her education, I meant anything. She was lamenting in March that there were some simple procedures that she had only done on simulation mannequins because hospital liability issues prevented students from doing them on patients.  I was happy to offer my myself for practice...starting an IV, drawing blood, whatever.  (I hoped to add this as a Lenten penance; offering myself for practice, cheerfully and without wincing.)  

It didn't really take too much discipline to keep from complaining while she practiced.  Not much pain - very well done.  And there was so little bruising that the picture I took in hopes of putting on Facebook to brag (about Fran's technique - not my acquiescence) showed...almost nothing.  

But then...there was my opportunity to pull a little prank.  I opened a jar of rubber cement to find it almost dried up, but with enough of a blob of cement worth keeping for cleaning up excess cement on future projects.  As I played with the blob I noticed the resemblance to some sort of horrible, pus filled things I've seen (on the internet and in books, not on myself).  

Those little LOLs that people add on texts and emails are so often annoyingly redundant.  It was a good thing that I added an LOL when I texted this picture to Fran, though.  Because up until she saw that, her response to my, "Look what popped up on the back of my hand!" was going to be a command to leave work right away and go to the ER.  LOL.  I'm really not the practical joke type, but this seemed like such a funny one.  LOL.  Gave her some momentary palpitations.  It's funny....now.

It was for education.  I learned my lesson, too.