Today, I Stopped the Bleeding: First-aid in the Locker Room

Styptic 2

I have become the purveyor of Styptic pencils in the locker room at my health center. This past year I dispensed personal ‘pencils’ to three different gentlemen who apparently have not mastered the art of shaving and sliced themselves on the lip, neck and earlobe.

As an experienced blade shaver, I understand a nick on the neck, but a laceration of the lip and excision of the ear, or portion thereof, befuddles me.  It’s awkward, if not impossible, to have a conversation with a man whose blood is squirting down his cheek, cascading off his chin and splattering onto the floor like ink leaking from a cheap fountain pen. If not for the grey hair and loose skin that is a curse of us ‘senior citizens’, the bleeding gave each man the look of a pugilist who stepped out of the ring with the great Carmen Basilio*.

However, quick action saved the day, when I offered my Styptic pencil and stopped the carnage.  For the uninitiated, the Styptic is a pencil thin chalk-like instrument packed with astringents that “contract tissue to seal blood vessels”(Wickepedia).  A short stinging dab on the cut and the bleeding stops quickly. Every blade user should have one in his kit, or medicine cabinet.

Understand, the Styptic pencil is not ‘loaned’ to the bleeder.  On the contrary, it’s a giveaway with the proper response, “no, keep it” when he offers to return it.  Then, buy a replacement to make sure you keep supplied, as I did.

Styptic pencils are not expensive and last a long time, unless, of course, one spends his workout session during the peak ‘senior hours’ when shaky hands and diminishing eyesight contribute to cuts and nicks that call for a Styptic pencil, as they’ve called for mine, 3 times.

My ‘heroics’ wasn’t life saving but it still was first-aid.  And, over time, my embellishment might just make it seem so.

Everyone who shaves with a blade must have a ‘cut story’. What’s yours?

*Carmen Basilio was a boxer who won both the welterweight and middleweight crown in the 1950s.  He was well known for being a tough fighter who would wear down his opponent as the fight progressed into late rounds.  Carmen certainly was accustomed to getting cut or bruised on his face and his ‘cut man’ would stop the bleeding between rounds. I wonder if he had a big Styptic pencil among the tools of his trade.

 

Today, I Shook Hands With a Naked Man…

Swimsuit

Today I shook hands with a naked man.  Okay, so it seemed odd as it was happening because it’s never happened to me, shaking hands with a completely naked man.  I’ve had the opportunity, but never the inclination.  Yet, today, it just happened in the most common way that two dressed men would do it. 

 “Hey, Steve, is that you”, he asked while reaching out his hand as a courtesy.  I responded likewise, with my own extended arm and hand, completing the traditional up and down hand shake…all the time maintaining good eye contact.

It had been several years since we last saw each other.  He transferred to a new health center, where I was today for a swim. So, you can imagine the exuberance in our encounter, spontaneous for him, a little less so for me. What was he thinking?  Then again, I believe he’s Italian. My mother, an Italian, herself, proudly described that ethnic group as a ‘touchy-feely’ kind of people.  There was no ‘touchy-feely’ today, as he stepped out of the shower and approached me before I could escape to the pool.  So, not only was he naked, he was dripping wet, as well.  

The encounter wasn’t quite the same for him because I was wearing a swimsuit.  He didn’t have to think, “Gee, I just shook hands with a naked man.”

His complete lack of modesty didn’t surprise me, at all.  Each of us had honed our locker room mannerisms in the manliest of locker rooms, an old gym with 4 man shower posts, not unlike my basic training barracks. The handshake was over quickly and we went our separate ways.  I headed for the pool thinking about the whole experience, while he went back to his shower with a spring in his step and a whistle on his lips.  I didn’t the have slightest clue how he felt about this odd exchange, nor did I want to know.

But, it’s experiences like this that help create the grand camaraderie and atmosphere in a men’s locker room.  So, while shaking hands with a naked man wasn’t terribly traumatic, it did make me take pause and think…do women shake hands in a locker room?

srbottch