When my kids were growing up, we almost never had bandaids on hand. It’s the running joke – to this day – when my nursing skills (or lack thereof) are called into question. My exasperated response to the “Do we have any bandaids,” question was almost always, “No. Bandaids are not stickers.” (It also explains why I once uttered the phrase, “Grab a paper towel and some tape,” to an 8-year old who really did need a bandaid.)
Bandaids were used as stickers – a treatment for bumps, bruises, and boredom. It didn’t matter if they were adorned with Mickey Mouse or hearts or smiley faces or if they were flesh colored or clear. They were almost never used for their intended purpose.
Even though bandaids are actually not intended for decorative use, but to prevent infection and keep tiny fingers from scratching bug bites, I missed the point entirely.
The point was not that bandaids actually made anything better, but that they made them feel better. It didn’t matter that the skin hadn’t been broken or that the source of their pain was invisible – a bandaid brought comfort.
And adults yearn for some sort of perceived relief, too. We use bandaid-stickers to ease the pain of loss or to protect ourselves from a perceived threat to our emotional well-being. Rebound relationships, alcohol, online shopping, disordered eating, working 60+ hours a week, sex – bandaids as stickers. None of these vices actually heal anything, but they can create the illusion of relief. They feel good in the moment. (They also have consequences – eventually that bandaid-sticker requires removal.)
I missed the mark on this one with my kids. If I had it to do over, I’d keep my medicine cabinet stocked with bandaids all the damn time. Eventually they would’ve learned that bandaids don’t heal bruises, in the same way we learn that vices don’t heal inner brokenness.
Last week my 23-year old daughter needed a bandaid. And all I had on hand were bandages large enough to cover a 4-inch wound or tiny round bandaids suitable for (very small) bug bites.
Bandaids are very difficult to remember to pick up from the store unless you really need them.
I’m still learning.
Is it possible, bandaids fulfill a purpose, for a short time. Might they protect us temporarily, until the newly opened skin has healed. Surely to leave the bandaid on for too long would be an oversight which in the long run might cost a couple pulled hairs and tattered epithelial.
When I was young, these bandaid-stickers were less used for temporary protection and shielding from the outside world and more-so protection from… me. I would turn what was once an elevated pin prick hole into an enormous crater in seconds flat. I didn’t see the crater I caused was much worse than the itchy dot once there. Like many others, I also had a tendency to pick newly formed scabs over and over elongating the healing process to an unreasonable timeframe. Without the protection of a bandaid I would re-open that wound over and over again not providing myself the chance to fully heal.
The bandaid was there so I did not do any further damage to myself than was already done by said mosquito or sidewalk. Maybe, for a time, the bandaid is useful at protecting our wounds, maybe just distracting us, while we heal. Maybe the bandaid … even adorned with the likeness of Mickey Mouse is what we need to remove our attention from the pain so as not to add to it.
I am no expert, and this is not advice or a notion of what might be “right or wrong”. Certainly vices should they become addiction are not helpful and cause more harm than good. These are simply my thoughts about these words before me based on my experience. Grace for bandaids.
I really appreciate this feedback, Alycia. I had a therapist ask the question once, “Is alcohol – so long as it doesn’t become an addition – inherently bad, or are there times when it’s a necessary – albeit occasional – evil?” I didn’t know then, and I don’t know now.
I DO know that I appreciate your perspective very much – and I do see the value in giving ourselves lots of grace while we’re processing a loss. Sometimes that looks like turning to something external for comfort. I especially love this: “Maybe the bandaid … even adorned with the likeness of Mickey Mouse is what we need to remove our attention from the pain so as not to add to it.”
Thank you, thank you, thank you for sharing your input and thoughts on this. It’s a valuable (and beautiful) perspective, and I’m so grateful you took the time to share it.