two down, three to go...

Yes, this is going to be a post about my stitches.

I haven't written anything in quite a while, but not because I don't have anything to write about. Oh no. My life is one adventure after another, each day filled to the brim with action and activity. Just last night I went to the mechanic, fought with a computer for two hours, did some Illustrator work, sewed the lining of my dress in, washed a massive load of dishes, and washed and flat-ironed my hair followed up by a hefty set of crunches and ab wheelings to keep my body in top form, all before bed. Sure it might have been cooler to say I had gone to the Giants game and sat in the VIP section to watch Barry Bonds make history, but can I be blamed for the fact that those juicy tickets were given away to someone else at the last minute? I make do with what I'm given.

Back to the stitches.

I don't want to alarm anyone, but two of them have fallen out of their own accord. I say "fallen out" but it's probably more accurate to speculate that running for 25 minutes without a bandaid caused the first one to chafe and wiggle its way out of the skin hole it had been wedged into. Considering it is about at the intersection of pant waist and underpants, this is probably what happened. I noticed it was gone Saturday night but wasnt really alarmed despite the fact that the piece of incision it once covered now looks like a butterflied shrimp. But I'd rather have an unsightly scar than a cancerous mole (which it wasn't, according to the tests run after moley was pried so forcefully from my body after 28 years of peaceful existence). The second one disappeared yesterday, although we predicted it on Monday when performing the daily inspection. I'm hoping to chafe away the last three between now and Friday when I'm supposed to go back to the doctor to get the stitches removed. I think refusing to wear the bandaids anymore (they were leaving rashy red marks where the acid bandage gum began eating into my skin -- I don't think you're supposed to wear bandaids for two weeks in a row) is helping my cause. And if worse comes to worse, I do happen to live with a registered nurse. Or a Chinese girl with alcohol, tiny scissors, and a loving touch. Same thing.