Band-Aids and Declarations

I was running today and somehow, about 8 miles in, my brain started thinking about band-aids and the purpose they serve in life.  You put a band-aid on something to protect it, to shield it, so it can heal.  Generally we reserve band-aids for open wounds, cuts, and the like. Things that need to be held together and sealed off.  But why not put band-aids on everything?  Bruises, jammed fingers, broken hearts - why not put a band-aid on them as well?  Maybe the scientific purposes of band-aids don't really speak to the type of healing required for all wounds, but band-aids serve another purpose as well. They are a declaration, an advertisement to everyone else, that hey, this part of me hurts.  This part is broken, be gentle or, perhaps just avoid this area all together for awhile until it has healed. The band-aid, like stick figures on restroom doors is a pretty recognizable symbol.  It can garner sympathy and kindness in strangers.  It gives them a point of reference, an opening to ask - what did you do? And you can explain your particular malady and they can nod in agreement if they've faced similar wounds.  Or maybe they'll be dumbstruck, shocked you've come through such a horrific trauma.  Talking about it helps, changes the nature of the event from something current, to something past. When strangers ask you about it, you can tell them what happened, tell them how things have progressed since then, tell them how much recovery time is still needed.  After awhile, though, it becomes time to take the band-aid off.  As a kid, I feared this, hated it. Removing the band-aid hurt.  But the removal is an important and necessary part of moving on.  Just as putting the band-aid on is a declaration, so too is the removal.  There may be a scar left behind, there may be adhesive residue lingering around the edges.  But the band-aid is gone, and so is the wound.  The healing is complete.