My Tool Box

I carried it, it carried thirty pounds. It was a keeper of lifesaving tools. Gauze, tape, sodium chloride, and tubing for the infussion of such. Needles and band-aids, even a little morphine. Lots of tabs, you know-- the ibuprofen type. The army considers it a cure-all. "Hand it out like candy" every day is Halloween. Don't worry about a thing, especially your liver being worth a damn by age thirty. Tons of gloves-- my one pet peeve, I would go without on certain scenes, but that; that's just me. I always wanted to be a helper of those too scared to be free. I was a medic and it was my tool box. *What did you carry that left a stain on your brain? What did you do with it, and what were and are your feelings about it?