Second degree

Every time I use my oven safe skillet to roast something in the oven I burn myself. I always forget that the dumb handle is the same temperature as the piping hot oven. Yesterday was no exception. As I reached in to test the temperature of my brick chicken my mind forgot to warn my arm of the impending danger. The result?

A disgusting weeping, painful blister.

I always thought a blister was a gross thing my skin did to remind my of my stupidity. Forget your sunscreen on a trip to the lake? Blisters. Forget to break in your hiking books before a 3 day backpacking trip? Blisters. Forget that a pan in a 350 degree oven for an hour might be hot? Blisters.

But that's not really the case.

From Wikipedia (AKA the source of all knowledge):

A blister may form when the skin has been damaged by friction or rubbing, heat, cold or chemical exposure. Fluid collects between the epidermis--the upper layer
of the skin--and the layers below. This fluid cushions the tissue underneath, protecting it from further damage and allowing it to heal.

Turns out a blister is something my skin does to protect itself from future pain. Its purpose is to help me move forward. To help me heal.

And the hardest part of the whole blister process is not the initial pain or the strange bubbled up skin. It's having the patience to just let it be. It's realizing that the best thing I can do is wait and let it heal itself. It's resisting the urge to poke at that strange water balloon under my skin just to see what will happen.

And I know if I can just WAIT, it'll all turn out alright.

But WAITING is hard.