Ichor

I have a red dot on my chest, which the Internet tells me is some kind of harmless angioma. It doesn't bother me and has been there for as long as I can remember. But I do recall, as a child, having a doctor warn me that if I scratched it or accidentally cut it, it would bleed a lot. (The Internet supports this claim.) I took this warning very seriously and wondered about such a small spot bleeding "a lot." I wondered if I would be like Talos from "Jason and the Argonauts" with all of my ichor draining out through my one point of vulnerability.




It is probably good that I took the warning seriously because I am a picker. I pick scabs, zits, the dead skin around my nails. Not picking at something is an exercise in self control for me. But I didn't pick at the spot on my chest and eventually I mostly forgot about it.

Recently, though, it has returned to the forefront of my mind. Horatio stares right at this spot while he nurses. And, wouldn't you know it, both my kids are pickers, too. But, being children, they don't limit their picking to themselves and Horatio really wants to scratch that spot right off my skin.

Old fears of losing my life-force have been coming back to me as I slap a hand to my chest, thinking that if Horatio can no longer see the spot he will forget about it. But he tries with all his baby might to pry up my fingers.

So if you should find my hollow shell lying around near a cute little boy: BEWARE! He is a slayer of giants and no one's ichor may be safe.