For some reason my husband believes that four years of college, four more of med school, two years of residency, and an internship…

… Has nothing on duct tape.

In his world, a bad wound, lots of blood, and blinding pain equal the opportunity to watch real medicine at its best.

He believes in the power of duct tape so much that I’m quite sure he’d go toe to toe with anyone that would like to argue the healing effects of the holy tape.

He even has a procedure for using it.

Step 1: Clean the wound and dry it thoroughly.

Step 2: Put medicine on the wound.

Step 3: Wrap the duct tape around the body part until circulation is weak at best.

Step 4: Wear the duct tape until it falls off.

This is the point where the wound will be healing beautifully. No ER, no bills, no class, no worries.

Have I been a patient of the non-doctor?

Let’s put it this way, if one slices open a good portion of flesh, seeks help in getting to the ER – gets denied but offered a piece of duct tape instead… in lieu of bleeding out – one takes the duct tape.

So the answer is yes.

The truth is, I’m freakishly bad with knives.

I mean like so bad that I scare myself as well as my family members anytime I have a task before me that involves some sort of cutting.

I can hear a collective sigh anytime they see me wielding one.

But, it does afford him an opportunity to put his skills into practice so…

The last time I was in this predicament (yes there’s been more than one), I was cutting a piece of fruit as I cupped it in my hand.

Brilliant.

When the knife came down, it cut deep into my wrist.

I mean, there was this thick, fleshy flap holding on by a centimeter of skin.    

I turned some sort of gray pasty color and tried to yell to my husband that I was in trouble in hopes that he would head to the car and get it started while I threw on something presentable to go to the ER.

Well, he comes back into the kitchen with–you guessed it.

Seriously? Every time I looked down at the bloody, flapping skin I almost passed out, but nooooooooooo. No ER for me. We have duct tape!

(To the rescue!)

The nausea became so intense as the sinking realization hit me that the only doctor I was going to be seeing was standing before me… holding a roll of duct tape.

When the wound was covered by the “sticky healer,” I simply walked away muttering obscenities under my breath about how horrible and uncaring my mate was.

Well, in the end…

The duct tape did fall off, the wound was sealed, and a scar was formed – a crooked scary scar.

Thank you, Dr. Duct Tape.