Came home, went to put a bit more water in the (just boiled) kettle so I could partake of our usual evening cocoa. I still don't know for sure whether the handle was broken already, or whether it broke when it hit the floor (and my foot), but the upshot was deeply unpleasant: boiling water all over my feet, and part of one leg.
I did all the stuff you're supposed to do for severe burns: dashed upstairs and sat on the edge of the bathtub, running cold water over the affected areas. I believe I might have said a bad word or three.
The family was great, running out to stock up on Polysporin and some magic burn gel stuff Adrian looked up on the Internet. It turned out that drugstores don't sell it, so Mitch went out and got it from an industrial safety company yesterday—a bit late for me, but we are now prepared for future burn emergencies. And I appreciated the thought.
Turns out I was lucky, and most of the real damage is confined to the lower part of my right foot, along with a couple of inches of leg just above the knee. While my doctor conceded, "Wow, that's a very severe burn," he also suggested that I invest in steel-toed boots for future kettle encounters. Ha, ha, doc. Most amusing. I knew I could count on you.
I learned a few things from this experience:
- It is very difficult to sleep without allowing the bedclothes to touch a burned foot.
- It is very difficult to sleep at all when your foot hurts that much.
- Frozen corn in a plastic bag makes an excellent compress for burns. Just don't use a bag with tiny holes in it, because you will wind up with unpleasant leakage all over your sheets.
- It's a good thing I hang onto all those orphaned white cotton gym socks, because there is no way in hell I'm wearing handknits on those blisters.
I did manage to plough through quite a lot of the socks I'm making from drum carded bits and pieces of BFL:
And when my foot is healed enough to wear them, I plan to rejoice in their woolly softness.