I’ve often thought of how much more often/severe I was wounded than my children. Mostly I think due to bikes and going barefoot.
My mom was (is) rather a hypochondriac for herself, but she didn’t much believe in doctors for us or stitches if she could get our skin back together with adhesive tape. She was a strong believer in alcohol. If only I had a dime for every time she said, “If it doesn’t hurt, it’s not working.” I thought I was in heaven when my boyfriend’s mom used peroxide for cuts.