Last Wednesday, I showered before my morning appointment for a second Pfizer vaccination. I normally do not discuss showering details but I discovered a bandage on my upper left arm. I was shocked to realize it had been living there for 26 days, ever since my first vaccination. Why had I not noticed it before? The most logical explanation would be that I had not showered in almost four weeks. My friends could believe that. But my wife is still alive. Her eyesight has diminished to the point I no longer need to comb my hair, but her sense of smell has grown keener. I love her for who she is but she only loves the clean version of me. The small bandage blended with my skin and was difficult to peel off. I need some of those Band-Aids that the University of Washington Medical Center uses. The adhesive was like Super Glue. Generic ones I buy at the dollar store never stick. I am told to apply greasy antibiotic on wounds so they do not become infected. But then one side of a bandage on my face will slip and dangle while I am interfacing with the public. I was relieved to find the vaccination bandage in time to avoid questions about what it was still doing on my arm. I probably would have panicked and invented an explanation that the injection site was still bleeding. The vaccinator did not even see my left arm this time. I offered my more valuable right limb. I hope she affixed the bandage securely because with no impending appointments, I am determined to break the Guinness World Record for bandage longevity set by that guy who died of gangrene a couple years ago.