Yesterday, my podiatrist ripped the stitches out of my foot. Nope, I am not exaggerating. I was so excited for this two week milestone. I have never had stitches (except inside my eye which is way different) so didn’t really know what to expect. I mentioned my exciting stitches-removal appointment to quite a few friends, who I darn well know have had stitches, and stitches removed, and none of them batted an eyelash. Guess what…my friends are actually part of a conspiracy. They did not want me to know stitches being ripped from your skin hurts like h-e-double hockey sticks (as my kiddos used to say before they were brazen teenagers who would utter all epitaphs and more right to my face).
I was calm, collected, excited even, to have these nasty, irritating stitches removed from my foot. But when the nurse started cutting, then pulling with tweezers, I was getting agitated when they didn’t just slip out of my skin like I anticipated. Yank, “OUCH,” yank, “OUCH,” yank. My doctor came in and said, “Ya, sometimes it works better if you wrap it around and then pull.” I think this is a bad dream. Wrap what around? Pull what? That cannot be my foot they are talking about. “OUCH,” this time, I actually said it out loud.
I am not one to verbally acknowledge pain, so this surprises even me. And…then I say it again! Holy cow. Even the doctor cannot get this stitch out. He comments, “Oh, that one is trying to embed itself.” He is calm and nonchalant and continues to pull and tug. “OUCH.” I sit up and watch. Stupid, Peg Leg. Blood spurts. Gross. Finally stitch pulls out…disgusting feeling. And doctor goes on with the appointment. He smiles, “You can get it wet now, just make sure to wrap it afterward.” I am thinking of a nice long, soapy shower and then I realize, who cares if I can get it wet because I still can’t stand on the Peg Leg without the boot. Ugh. More showers with the trash bag and packing tape.
bossybostwick 