After Thursday’s retinal detachment scare, the last thing I needed was another medical hoopla. But last night, I sliced my finger open at our organization’s photography reception. Blood gushed profusely for over a half-hour despite my applying pressure. My universe was looking a little unfairly skewed away from being on my side.

But my universe works in mysterious ways. And ironic and symbolically sophisticated ways.

So when the coworker who was hosting the event cracked an egg from the well-stocked refrigerator, and pulled the albumen away from the shell to get a few strands of the membrane, it reminded me of something. She placed the substance over my cut and I applied pressure. In a couple of minutes, the bleeding stopped. Completely. No trip to the ER.

She learned this from a relative who’s a doctor. I don’t know if bacteria from eggs would ever be an issue, but this is not WebMD—it’s my friggin’ blog about my divorce. You decide. But as for me, this is my new remedy. If it takes the whole dozen for a gunshot wound, so be it. My treat.

The problem with my left eye turned out to not be serious—just the normal pulling away of the gel and fibers. I’ve been studying a lot of egg-shaped eye diagrams and feel confident that my retina will stay where it is.

The solution to the cut on my right hand was to pull the fibrous gooey membrane from the shell of an egg.

Sometimes I feel like I’m living some kind of Salvador Dali performance art.

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