Facts That Humans Shouldn’t Know (#397):
Tweezing tiny, fine silk sutures out of your top-boob is nothing like having a 6 inch-long piece of plastic yanked out of your stomach.
My peeps in IR said I should stop by, and get looked at. Sutures that are outside of the skin are no longer dissolvable. Basically, this means that until they are taken out, I have an incompletely healed incision, and a risk of infection. It was a non event. The removal took 10 minutes, and I barely felt a thing. They were extremely busy today, so no socializing, and I had to wait a while, since I wasn’t officially on the schedule. Needing to wait makes me extremely happy. As much as I love my guys at Mercy, I never want to be their top priority. That would mean I was in bad shape or in a health crisis. Ain’t nobody got time for that!
This non-event did get me reminiscing about days gone by:
Back during frontline treatment, there was a quarter-sized piece of my incision that refused to heal. This was caused by the chemo and Avastin that I was on. It was a thing–kind of a big thing. It was, by itself, an infection risk, but it was also right next to my stoma. You probably know that poop is full of bacteria and germs. Get some into the bloodstream of an immune-suppressed person, and you will have a big mess on your hands. Infections kill chemo patients. My docs were keenly interested in trying to get this thing healed ASAP. During one appointment, my surgeon looked down through the hole, and into my abdomen and said he thought he saw a suture poking out. He said it was impeding my healing, and needed to be removed. He grabbed tweezers and scissors. I closed my eyes and braced myself. He tugged, he pulled, he YANKED, he snipped. When I opened my eyes, he was holding up a six inch long, black piece of GIMP (remember gimp? The stuff we made bracelets with at summer camp?). “HOLY COW”, I yelled. (end scene)
While I was waiting for the PA to come back with his tools, I felt my heart racing and butterflies in my stomach. I suddenly found myself wishing that I had somebody with me, to hold my hand. Then, I reminded myself that having a few sutures taken out isn’t nearly as scary as port removal, which isn’t even close to being the scariest thing I’ve been through in this hospital. Also, that I was going to have pizza when this was done. I really am such a baby about this stuff.
When I go to Mercy for my appointments, I like to sit in the cafeteria and people watch. Mercy is a beautiful hospital, full of super cool people. I always understood that the cafeteria was for the healthy people who were working or visiting, not me, who was sick and inpatient (unless somebody awesome agreed to bring me food from downstairs, which happened sometimes–I recommend the pizza). Now that I’m healthy and “visiting”, I relish the time I spend in that pretty cafeteria. I fully intended to hang out for a bit, but by the time I realized what I was doing, I was getting my pizza and drink to go, and hightailing it back to the parking lot. I figured my soul knew what it was doing, so I just went with it, and got the hell out of there. Next time.