On Saturday night, I was rushing around the apartment tidying up when I tripped on the edge of our dining room rug and ran my face into the wall. The blunt force of the wall radiated through my skull; I fell to the ground. I knew something was very, very wrong. The sound, the pain. I felt liquid pooling on my forehead and immediately thought I had broken my nose. I called to Landon. He is calm in these situations, but my stomach knotted when I noted his furrowed brow and his hastiness to find not just a wad but a roll of paper towels.
“Do I need stitches?” I asked in my calmest voice. He didn’t answer for a minute, just continued to apply pressure to my face, swapping out wads of bloodied paper towel every minute or so.
“What hurts most? Can you see OK? How do you feel? Are you dizzy?” He went through a battery of questions, and I continued to hastily ask whether I needed stitches. My mind was immediately going to who we could call to look after mini, who was an hour or so into her nightly sleep, if we needed to go to the hospital. Finally, he said: “I don’t think you need stitches. But I’m not going to lie: it’s a pretty big cut, Jennie.”
At that point, I lost the tenuous grip I had on serenity. Once the pragmatics of what we might do with mini should we need to make a trip to the ER were off the table, I had space to take in the horror of what had just happened. I kept replaying the fall, which had felt as though it was in slow motion. I’d been scrambling to get my balance, to get a purchase on my slipping feet, and I remember having the time to think: “Oh God, that wall!” And then the dull thud. I replayed it over and over. How had it happened? My fingers started tingling; I felt dizzy. I started to cry.
“You’re going to be fine,” Mr. Magpie said over and over. He sat with me on the floor until I felt stable enough to sit. He gave me water from a straw. He applied a bandage the size of Montana on my head — proof that it’s important to have a well-stocked first aid kit. (#thankyoumom.) He squeezed my hand and then said:
“You’re going to need to take another shower.” Tenderly, because he knows how skittish I am about such things. “You have…pink tips.” He smiled and put his fingers in my hair, which, I could tell, was matted with blood.
He helped me to the couch. We ate a slow dinner as I continued to discover new abrasions and forming bruises — the inside of my lip was lined with blood. It hurt to chew. I accidentally brushed my nose with my hand and it was tender to the touch. I called my mom and cried to her and then cried again after I got off the phone because — my God, Jen, you are thirty four and you still need your mom at nine-forty-seven p.m. at night and she won’t be here forever to calm you in the face of such modest tragedies. What will I do without her?! These maudlin thoughts crowded my mind and I wept.
I was a basket case.
I willfully avoided the mirror while getting ready for bed. I made Mr. Magpie sit next to the shower while I washed the blood out of my hair, arduously avoiding glances at the rivulet of bloody water pooling around my feet, cringing at the coppery smell wafting up from the floor.
Just the night before, we had been at the Metropolitan Opera, taking in Puccini’s Trittica, a trio of short operas. The final — and most famous — is the cheeky, comedic Gianni Schicchi, and if you haven’t heard its chief aria, “O Mio Babbino Caro,” you must. It will stir you to tears on the right day — say, when you’ve split your forehead open and busted your lip so badly it looks like you’ve had too many injections. But on that Friday night before my fall, one of the performers tripped on the edge of a rug on the set midway through the performance. I had noted it and wondered whether it was intentional; he played it off with aplomb. But the stumble hadn’t made sense within the context of the play. It was unremarked; it didn’t suit the character, who was not otherwise bumbling. I presumed it had been a fluke accident. He’d recovered with grace, and the show went on.
I seized on this detail late Sunday evening, marveling at the symmetry. When I’d observed the performer, I had thought: “Oh, he should slow down.” He was walking too quickly across the set; he was preoccupied with his performance, I prescribed. I had just written a post on unexpected signs and sat back in wonderment at the foreshadowing. I am convinced, now, that God has been telling me to slow down. I recently shared that I live my life under a kind of vague pressure, the source of which is dubious. The tripping opera performer, my own fall: God’s way of telling me to take my own medicine. Dial it back. Take a breath. Slow your roll.
But there were other lessons waiting for me, too. The day after my injury, I began wondering whether I should have gotten stitches after all. The mirror told a grotesque story and left a pit the size of Saturn in my stomach. Doctors in New York are notoriously difficult to get in to see; mine said the first availability he had was December 20th. I panicked as I wondered whether I should go to the local urgent care or head to the ER now, 36 hours after the incident. Finally, I hesitantly texted my neighbor, an ER doctor, hating myself for encroaching on her privacy but feeling the panic mount — “What should I do?!” She told me to come by so she could take a look. After a quick peek she looked me squarely in the eye and said: “Yes, you need stitches. The ER will be a five hour wait because there will be higher priority cases for you. Let me do it for you.” And so she gathered materials from the hospital and stitched me up on my own couch at home. Can you even imagine?! The unbelievable kindness of this woman! Her generosity in affording me some of her rare, precious spare time — which should be reserved for sleep and distraction. I am even now moved to tears by her neighborliness, her solicitude. Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. Quite literally in this case.
And there is this, too: recently, I have been agonizing over the wrinkles in my forehead, my dulling skin, the symptoms of my thirty-something age. When my mother called to check in on me a day after the fall, I burst into tears: “I’m going to have a huge scar on my face for the rest of my life,” I sobbed.
“Well, Jennifer,” she said, in that practical voice she uses to cut through the melodrama to which I am prone: “This isn’t a life-changing injury. This isn’t a disfigurement. This is a cut that will heal. You’ll put lots of Vitamin E on it. You might wear bangs for awhile. This is what makeup is for. But think about all of the cuts you’ve gotten over the course of your life: they heal. You will have a scar but what can you do? What’s done is done. Let’s move on.”
I needed to hear it. And I needed the reminder to be more grateful toward my body, anyhow. I’d gladly take the wrinkled but scar-free forehead I had last week over my current situation; why hadn’t I enjoyed what I had? I look down today and think: thank God for this working, pain-free body. For my able hands, for my clear eyes, for my long lashes. Even though my face is still tender and my lips look — in the words of Mr. Magpie — “like what a lot of misguided women pay a lot of money for” — and I cannot bear to be without an enormous bandage over my forehead, I thank God for it all. It is working, it will heal, and life moves on.
So take it from this modestly wounded little birdie: time to slow down and give thanks. As for me? I’ll be paying that act of neighborly generosity forward tenfold in the coming weeks — with French girl bangs to boot.
Post Scripts.
+Everyone in my family (dad, mom, sisters, brothers-in-law, Mr. Magpie, etc) owns this windbreaker from Marmot, now on sale in select sizes. It’s breathable, lightweight, ultra-packable — but wind-and-rain-repellent. It’s a perfect outdoor activity jacket when you’re iffy on the weather; it will stand you well in rain, cool, wind, sleet, etc. I love it so much I included it in my gift guide for men. Would be a great buy now that it’s marked way down in select colors! (I love the mallard green.)
+I usually let my SPF-packed tinted moisturizer do sunscreen duty, but, thanks to my little incident, I’m now committed to wearing a separate layer of SPF every day to assist in scar appearance reduction. I ordered this lightweight formula, which earns rave reviews. I’ll also be dousing my face in vitamin E oil — apparently also very good for scar healing and skincare in general (it purports to fade spots and prevent wrinkles; we shall see).
+This game has over 2,000 five star reviews. Thinking of ordering it to play with my siblings over Christmas.
+If I slept on the other side of the bed, I’d tuck this in at my bedside. Mr. Magpie and I usually fall asleep with the TV on and then grumble when the remotes wind up under the mattress or on the floor or digging into our backs. I’d love to have this as a permanent remotekeeper. I’m worried, though, that it would disturb the lovely lines of our fluffy white bed when you walk into our bedroom, as my side faces the door…tradeoffs. Does anyone else spend too much time thinking about such things? (In hunting for this solution, I also came across this shelf contraption, which would have been genius for me in college, when I didn’t have a bedside table and would just keep my phone in bed with me. Might be a clever gift for a dorm-bound sibling/child/neice.)
+Love this Gucci-esque sweater (on sale for $111!).
+I really want one of these lighted magnifying mirrors from SimpleHuman. I find the lighting in our bathroom difficult to work with and wish I could apply makeup at my desk from time to time. This $54 lookalike gets solid reviews.
+Love this sherpa jacket for mini.
+This petite wreath with its burlap hanger are just darling for a New York-sized apartment.
+These new OXO fliplock glass containers are my dream for a super organized pantry. I currently have a few of these for storage loose snacks like goldfish, mixed nuts, etc. Why do these little storage vessicles bring me pleasure? We will never know.
+Have you ever had to break up with a friend? Any advice?
+The elegant but lopsided dance of motherhood and ghost riders in the sky.
Commenting SO late on this one that I’m almost embarrassed, but I hope your gash is healing well! What a scary experience, but how lucky you are to have such kind caretakers, your neighbor included. What an angel!
I thought of myself when you wrote, “These maudlin thoughts crowded my mind and I wept.” — this could be the subtitle of my memoir! Ha! xo
Haha – oh man! That is SO me, too. I’m a crier and I let things snowball. Mr. Magpie recently cut his hair really short — shorter than I’ve ever seen it in my life — and I weirdly cried when he walked in. Not because I didn’t like it (I actually LOVE it) but because I was startled by the change and knew it took cojones for him to do it and I felt a bizarre kind of pride. So I was already dabbing my eyes (?!) when mini came over and asked to put a bandaid on her forehead, where I have been wearing a steri-strip to cover my scar. OMG. I don’t know why but the one-two punch of these insignificant little lovely happenings made me CRY!
Anyway, thanks for the well wishes. xo — Your Weeping Sister
I’m right there with you! And that is the sweetest gesture by mini. xo
Dear Jen,
I was so sorry to read about your mishap, I truly can relate. A few years ago after my husband and I moved to Scottsdale, we rented a condo while our house was being constructed. Everything, I mean every blessed thing in that condo was grey: grey walls, upholstery, counter tops, floor tile, backsplash, duvet cover, etc etc. We were seated on the grey leather couch watching the Final Four game eating our dinner. I served my husband and went back to the kitchen to retrieve my dinner plate. On the way I slipped on a tiny, little pool of water (about the size of a half dollar) and before I knew what happened , my feet went flying up, and I came down headfirst landing on the side of my face on the edge of a grey floor tile. My husband was there immediately, and he helped me sit up while pressing wads of paper towels to my brow and upper cheekbone. There was a pool of blood on the floor, and I recall saying we had frozen peas in the freezer, or perhaps ice in a towel would be a good solution. My husband calmly applied pressure, and then decided to take me to the ER which happened to be a few short blocks away. I did not receive stitches, instead I was “butterflied” and then kept for observation for 6 hours as I had a nasty concussion. My right eye throbbed and the entire right side of my face was bruised for weeks. I also sustained a cracked cheekbone and orbital socket, plus dislocated my jaw. For weeks I lived on soup, yogurt, applesauce and rice pudding. My dermatologist, suggested arnica gel for the bruising, as well as Silgen, a silicone gel or topical care. She urged me to eat fresh pineapple, as it helps reduce swelling and discoloration, as well as Bio Oil. It has been four years since my mishap, and I have a one inch crescent shaped scar blended into my laugh lines/ crows feet. I was also treated by a maxiofacial dentist who took a conservative approach instead of placing a plate and screws in my jaw and cheek. All of this insanity and discomfort over a non visible puddle on a damn, grey, floor tile!
I am grateful you had a truly wonderful neighbor to patch you up, a calm husband, and a loving, practical mother, all to rally around you. It WILL get better, so make yourself a fresh pineapple smoothie, and give yourself permission to slow down and heal ❤️.
Oh Lela! I am so sorry that happened to you. Your note put everything in perspective for me. Thank you so much for taking the time to share your story, and for reminding me how relatively minor this injury was — no broken bones, no dislocated jaw! Oh my God, you poor thing. You seem to have come through it all with the loveliest attitude. (But damn that invisible puddle!!!) Thanks for the tips. I so appreciate your writing in with these gentle words of encouragement. xoxoxo
I am so sorry to hear about your fall. I’m sure there is a lot going on in your thoughts still, but I hope you are taking solace in your the kindness of your neighbor and knowing that you’re moving forward. I never know what to make of things I notice in my periphery that tend to mirror themselves directly in my life – did I manifest that? Is it frequency illusion? I guess anytime you can extract a positive message from it you can move forward with direction toward the good. I hope you’re doing fine <3
Thank you, Linnea! Yes — definitely focusing on the many positive things that came of this, but especially the kindness of my neighbor, the TLC from my husband and family, and all of the incredible (helpful!) notes of comfort on this blog, including yours. Thank you so much. xoxo
This is so awful, I am so sorry. Tears stream down my face as I read this. I, like many, can relate to your inner thoughts as you processed the situation. It’s interesting that you never once spoke about the pain, not even when you explain getting stitches. On your face. On your couch. I just can’t imagine. That alone should make you feel good, that kind of resilience. Thinking of you, as you continue to heal, all the best, keep applying that Vitamin E.
Oh, Nicole – you are too sweet. Thank you for your empathy! That’s an interesting point — I was (and still am!) more rattled by the thought of the fall, by the aftermath of the wound, than by the pain! The pain barely phased me for some reason. Anyway, thank you so much for the sweet note. Very lucky to have my faithful readers gathering behind me! xo
Oh, how scary! I tripped over the open dishwasher a few weeks ago and while I was lucky to come away with nothing more than bruises, I found it shook me up greatly – something about the reality that I live alone and 1000 miles from my parents sunk in in that moment I sat there. Your feeling of needing to call your mom hit me hard (and makes me feel better that at 26 I still call my mom for… everything!)
RE: scars – I have a gigantic one on my leg + small ones on my face thanks to 23 stitches (an accident as a child that saw me airlifted to the children’s hospital) as well as some from a breast reduction. I am a pro at scars, like it or not. Keep it moisturized – neosporin for now, Aquaphor later or BioOil or whatever your preferred method. Sunscreen with UVA and UVB as someone else mentioned. Vit E, but test first. And the holy grail – silicone strips. You can google away for them, but they were recommended by both plastic surgeons I’ve had and the scientific evidence backs them up (I work in healthcare). Not sightly for out of the house, but I wore them overnight religiously. I still use them to keep blemishes from scarring.
And don’t forget what my dad told me when, as a 9 year old, I realized I would forever have a giant scar marking my left leg (it is often called “my shark bite” despite having nothing to do with any marine life!) – scars are just reminders of stories. I often run my fingers over my leg, fifteen years later and am reminded what I’ve overcome. It’s intrinsically a part of me at this point, the same way I have blue eyes and blonde hair and a birthmark on my left arm. Scars just help tell a story of a life lived – someday it will be a reminder of living in NYC with mini and Mr. Magpie and this season of life.
Holly! Wow – thank you so much for this incredibly kind and helpful note, especially the warning around vitamin E. After a few of you suggested it, I have made an appointment with a plastic surgeon to get her take on how to recover/minimize scarring best so I’ll hold off on using anything until after I get her clearance. Thank you SO much for the nudge. Really appreciate that.
y
I love what your Dad had to say about your “shark bite” (and I love the name you gave your scar, too — badass!) You are right: scars are just reminders of stories. Someone else wrote below that “scars only form on the living.” I love that, too. Thanks for a different perspective here.
Finally: OOOF. I can’t imagine tripping without anyone home to help me! That’s part of the reason I feel fortunate that the fall happened as it did, when Mr. Magpie was a room away. It’s definitely OK to lean on your parents in your 20s! At least that’s what I tell myself, calling my mom at all hours as a 34 year old…xoxo
I’m so sorry about your injury and glad it wasn’t more serious! And I’m a girl still calling my mom in a crisis, too. How lucky we are to have those sort of moms!
Your story made think of two things: first, I have a huge scar on my left bicep from a burn (scalded myself with hot tea as a grad student) that was then operated on… it has faded a lot and I refuse to hide it or stop wearing sleeveless tops, but my vanity hurts a little when I notice it in photos.
Secondly, it made me think of the wonderful and chilling story by Lauren Groff, “The Midnight Zone.” I won’t say more to avoid spoiling, but read it when you have a moment, if you haven’t already!
https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.newyorker.com/magazine/2016/05/23/the-midnight-zone-by-lauren-groff/amp
Thanks, Brooke — you are right, we are lucky! I have read that story — and actually am going to hear Lauren Groff speak tonight in Manhattan! Eagerly awaiting her words. That story haunted me. And now for good reason. HA!
Ah it’s always rattling to take an unexpected fall. So glad you’re starting to feel more settled. Thinking of you! xx
Thanks, Katherine! I so appreciate your taking the time to write this sweet little note. xoxo
So sorry to hear about your accident. Something like that can rattle your bones….I hope you’re being kind to yourself and treating yourself like you would a loved one. x
Just borrowed Codnames from the library, in preparation for Christmas! Great minds!
Just a thought on daily SPF. I’m in Australia- land of blazing sun! – and the recommendation here is to make sure you use a daily sunscreen with UVA and UVB protection. Not just SPF. You need both to protect and many moisturisers and foundations don’t have both. Just something to be mindful of when selecting your sunscreen. Most people here use a face specific sunscreen with SPF50 and then foundation on top. There are some great natural powders you can use to top up your sunscreen during the day also. It’s serious business here!
Mind yourself.
THANK YOU for the tip – had not even considered checking that. So many helpful tips in these comments! Seriously have learned so much from you all. I appreciate your taking the time to write in on this.
And I love the way you put this: “I hope you’re treating yourself like you would a loved one.” Thank you for that perspective.
xoxo
Oof! I’m so sorry to hear about your accident, and hope that you’re feeling better now! And thank goodness for wonderful husbands and neighbors! (And parents with their ever-so-pragmatic advice).
May have to pick up that Marmot jacket to round out Christmas presents for my husband – thanks for the tip!
Thank you, Jen! I’m on the mend. Slowly but surely!
The Marmot jacket is #CLUTCH. I know your man will love it! (And…don’t be surprised if you end up wanting one for yourself. I use it for running — when I used to run, argh! — and walking the dog, especially in fall/spring. Perfect!)
I hear you on the “used to run” – I was in SUCH a good routine before we left for Italy, and since then… nada. And now it’s the holiday season and there’s no way I’m abstaining from my favorite holiday treats. Guess I’ll have to make a new year’s resolution to start working out for real!
(You should definitely make up some crazy/fabulous story about how you got the injury… add a bit of levity to the situation!)
Right??? I’m optimistic about getting into a new workout routine in 2019. I am being realistic and thinking I’ll try to start in the warmer months…
Jen,
First, I hope you’re feeling better. It’s an awful feeling being hurt in general.
Have you read the book Little Bee? I enjoyed it as a whole, but a few lines really stuck with me: “We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, ‘I survived’.” I hope this brings you some peace.
Also Codenames is my favorite game of all time. We play it at EVERY dinner party we have. Just a warning: don’t expect you and Mr. Magpie to always think the same way if you’re on the same team . It can be surprisingly frustrating for married couples ha!
Haha! Thanks for the caveat — I’ve been warned!
Have not read that book but absolutely LOVE that sentiment. “A scar means I survived.” Will carry that with me! Thank you! xoxo
Oh dear Jen, I am so sorry to hear about your fall! Thankfully you were surrounded by lots of loving caregivers and you will mend quickly. Sending you lots of love, healthy and healing wishes, and prayers for future good health. 😉
As for those friendships, the people who were with you during this tramatic event, are the people you need around you in your current status. I say this because as I grow older, I have come to realize (and believe) that God enables you to move forward in your life, where some friends will come and go throughout your lifetime. It is okay to grieve their loss, but also feel confident with the things you have shared and look forward to the next person you will soon have as a new sharing friend. Just my two cents, but it is what I have come to believe and it has stood me well.
One last note: I strongly put in a recommendation for your Women of Substance to include your dear mother. Your faithful followers (can I be the CEO of that group?) have repeatedly said how wonderful she sounds. And if you start a Men of Substance, please start with dear old Dad!
Much love
Thank you, thank you, thank you. I so appreciate your sweet concern and well wishes! And I also love your advice on friendships. So wise. Thanks for passing it along.
Finally – YES. She is the original WOS. I’ll ask her now. xox
So sorry to hear this!! It sounds like an awful experience, but thank goodness you are okay. Your mom sounds SO much like my mom – nothing like a good dose of motherly perspective and encouragement to pick ourselves up by our bootstraps 😉
Love love love all of the recent posts – keep up the fab writing! xo
She is THE absolute best. And I needed to hear it. Thanks for the well wishes and words of encouragement — welcome music to my ears today! xoxoxo
Hi Jen—I’m so sorry to hear about your accident. That sounds really scary. I got bitten by a dog last summer, and reading your story brought up all those feelings of panic and unreality that I felt then. Anyway, I just wanted to write to tell you to be careful with Vitamin E and test it out somewhere other than your face first! I wish someone had warned me. I had heard it was great for scars and applied it straight from the capsules to a healing surgical scar (on my ankle, thank goodness). I had an allergic reaction that turned the scar all red and bubbly. Turns out it’s pretty common and the full strength Vitamin E gel is way too strong for a lot of people. Also, I keep meaning to track back and thank you for your advice on anniversary gifts—I really appreciate the thought you put into it and am sorry I took so long to say so. I ended up getting some playing cards with photos of us on the backs. They are cute and speak to one of his fave hobbies. Hope you are on the mend very soon!
Yay! So glad those came in handy! No need to apologize — I love responding to those kinds of queries.
And thanks for the tip on Vitamin E oil! Will be testing elsewhere first for sure! Right now I’m still using Neosporin/antiobiotic ointment on the stitches so haven’t tested it yet. Whew!
Thank you for the sweet well-wishes. xo
Wow- what an awful accident, and what a stroke of good fortune to have a lovely neighbor like that. I’ve had a fair share of bloody falls myself, and the scars to prove it. A brush with our own mortality like that can certainly shock us back into ourselves and our awareness. I’m sorry this happened to you, and best wishes as you heal up! And if you decide you do want to do something further to address any future scarring and need a recommendation for a doctor, I had the most wonderful plastic surgeon on the Upper East Side stitch me up after I had a cancerous growth removed from my face a couple years ago. She was truly lovely, very skilled, and always returned my calls seemingly within minutes.
Anna! Thanks for the kind words — you are so right in how you described this — it has “shocked me back into myself.” Thanks also for the doc referral — would you send via email! Wouldn’t mind having her name on hand just in case…you are kind to offer it. xo
Aw, Jen! That sound so scary and upsetting! Hopefully it starts to feel better soon! As a self-professed crier in your comments section, I totally empathize with being upset (Last spring, I had a very embarrassing slip on the escalator to the subway that resulted in a massive cut and bump on my arm and some public tears that I couldn’t stop). As adults, I think it’s easy for us to forget what it feels like to be really scared in a physical way like that. Be gentle with yourself and make sure to take care of yourself this week – maybe an extra latte or pedicure or something festive! Hang in there!!
Thanks, Christina! Sounds like a similar situation — just could not get a grip on my emotions afterward! Yikes! I think you’re right; there’s something about the physicality of the situation that jarred me, rattled me to my bones (literally and figuratively…) And thanks for the reminder. Going easy. Looking forward to seeing you so soon 🙂
xoxo
Hi Jen, long time reader first time commenter! I sustained a pretty nasty cut on my leg this summer and have since used BIO oil religiously and the scar is almost completely gone! I have now been using it on my face at night to help with old acne scarring and it is so nice and moisturizing. This might be a good alternative to vitamin e oil.
THANK YOU! A good girlfriend of mine texted me with the same urgent referral. Ordered immediately. Will be trying all the oils and salves…THANK YOU for letting me know! And for reading along, and for taking the time to write in. You are sweet. xoxo
1. I bought not one but TWO waffle Everlane sweaters this week, and can’t wait for them to arrive (one turtleneck, one crew neck)
2. I have had to break up with a friend before, and it still makes my stomach turn thinking of how hard that way. But the best advice I received during that time was this: You can only control you. While we would like to be able to control the friend’s reaction and behavior, we can not. So do what you know is right for you, do it with love and the best possible intentions, and let the chips fall as they may. I now think of this advice in all kinds of scenarios, and it is yet to lead me astray!
YAY! You will love the Everlane cashmere. Still can’t quite get over the price…!
And this is really solid advice, too. Thanks for sharing it. I sat and thought about that for a few minutes this morning, both from the lens of: “what can I do differently to change the situation? Am I being the best friend I can be?” and “Sometimes it’s just not about you, Jen.” I needed to hear that. xoxo
I am so sorry to hear about your accident, but am glad that you are going to be ok!
I hope you enjoy Code Names- it was first introduced to me at my secret office lunchtime board game group and quickly became a hit. (Easy to travel with, too- just stack the cards- no large box needed )
Thank you, Amy!! Definitely ordering then!! xo
I’m so sorry for your injury! Hope you feel better soon and heal quickly. I have been using the same LaRoche Posey sunscreen for years. It has never failed me even on a week long vacation in the desert sun. It offers great protection. I use it 365 days a year under my makeup. I mix with moisturizer and apply on my face, ears, neck and back of hands. It’s fluid like consistency glides on and doesn’t leave a white residue. It’s an all star in my routine.
Yes! Love this rave review of LRP sunscreen. Have heard the same thing many times over. I had been using Shiseido’s, which is incredible and really blocks out the sun but I find it takes awhile for it to sink in. Was looking for something easy to apply that would melt right into my skin without interfering with makeup. Thank you!!
That sounds so awful! I felt a little queasy just reading about it. Thank God for your neighbor, and for Landon’s calm presence, and for your mom of course – “let’s move on.” Love it! Such a mom thing to say, knowing when the comforting needs to come with a side of “buck up, little camper.”
I know – she is literally the best. She always knows exactly what to say and how to say it. Thank God for her, for Landon, that the fall wasn’t more serious, that Emory was asleep, that I wasn’t alone when it happened, etc, etc, etc. And my neighbor!!! Ah, I just can’t believe my good fortune in having her. The kindest.
Oh, I’m so sorry this happened to you! I’m so glad your husband was home when this happened. I hope you have a smooth recovery.
I cannot recommend Elta MD sunscreen enough. I have a scar on my face as well, and my dermatologist feels strongly that Elta MD is the best of the best. Also, if you are worried about healing, I would try and get into a dermatologist. Medical grade care products will be all the more helpful.
Hi! Thank you so much for the sweet note. I am so glad Landon was there. I actually can’t imagine what I would have done if I were alone…yikes. And thanks for the tip on talking to my derm; hadn’t thought about that but I might schedule a visit just to get his take and see what he suggests. Thank you!!!
Oh goodness, I am so sorry. That sounds awful. I’m always rushing around and just yesterday hit my knee so hard on my car door that I was in tears. Thank you for the reminder to slow down.
I agree with this advice. When my daughter had stitches on her face they gave her these clear-ish gel pads to put on overnight to lessen the scarring. No idea what was on them, but it worked. Worth a try.
Yes – a big reminder to slow down for me, too. Why do we rush so much?! Thanks for the tip on gel pads!! Open to all suggestions at this point. Just investigated them online! xo