What Color Is Your Skin – Black and Blue?

Fragile Skin.  A lot of us at our age have fragile skin.  We see them in theatres, restaurants, church, the grocery store – everywhere.  Even before I took the anticoagulant medicine, the back of my hands looked as if someone had taken a sledge hammer to them.

And, my arms.  Splotches of bruise from elbow to wrist.  Other parts of my skin with the same splotches.  Age spots, some say.  Running into doors, bumping against the bedstead, or the kitchen faucet.  Spots come and spots go.  Some stay longer than others.  And, it seems that as soon as one spot fades, another one shows up.

The worst, though, is when you look down at your hand or arm, wrist or knee and see the blood dripping down your skin away from the wound that you didn’t even know was there.  So, off you go to the bathroom or where ever you keep your bandages or tissues to stop the flow.  Sometimes, if you’re lucky, there will be someone there who can help you put on the bandage.

The last two years that I volunteered at Ghost Ranch, assisting the watercolorist-in-residence, I talked with the health care professional during one of the weeks I was there.  When I was a volunteer, the Ranch always provided a medical professional to assist with emergencies.  This particular week, the medical person was a male nurse, good at his job, as were all of the health care professionals (who, by the way, were also volunteers).

I talked with him about this splotchy skin problem of old people, like me.  His advice was exactly the same that I’d received from my doc back home.  It’s the result of getting older.  The only thing that was different in his explanations was his label for the skin condition.  He called it “paper skin.”  For some reason, “paper skin” was more palatable a name than others that I applied to my hands and arms.

Paper skin.  Yes, that sounded better than wound or dark spots or bump, or whatever else it was called.

Now, that I’m required to take an anti-coagulant med (rat poison, don’t you know – warfarin because that is what I can afford), the problem has, of course, been exacerbated.  I’m getting better at being aware of the times that I run into something that will cause a bruise.  I also know that if I can quickly hold that spot and apply some heavy pressure to it, my bruise won’t be as large.

When I work in Larry’s garden, I have some difficulty remembering to wear gloves.  Of course, short gloves don’t work at all well for my arms above my wrists.  Last summer, I heard from my sister that there are long gloves (rose gloves, she called them) that cover the arms all the way up to the elbows.  So, I purchased a pair, and they work and do cover the arms almost to the elbows.

I think that may have pleased her because, remember, she constantly tells me that I never listen to her or take advice from her.  And, this time, I did!

Be safe and well.

The Cranky Crone

If you have thoughtful feedback or questions, please let me know with a comment below.