Sunday, September 25, 2011
Marks of Life
I have been washing dishes, dishes and dishes in the past couple of days. And some cats' paws as well (there are 3 super cute kittens inside the house and running around with dirty paws on the wet wooden floor we just wiped clean. Bad kitty, Bad!) Those dishes are recovered from a tsunami damaged house to a second house that the owner has.
At the end of the day, my finger tips chapped badly. And it wasn't part of my gear to include hand cream (for some odd reasons I have such a hard time finding normal cream in japan O_O). Even after I put on cream twice, my hands still feels like sandpaper. All of a sudden I realized, this is one of the marks that my hospital job has carved on me. We washed our hands so often in hospital with anti-bacterial soaps and alcohol foam, after all these years my hands ceased to produce any oil such as normal skin would. As far away from my job as I am now, there are things in life that will make a mark in you, and follow you no matter where you go, reminding you life once lived.
Such as chappy hands, such as death.