03-09-2006, 11:31 PM
I've actually only had stitches once. It was when I had my collapsed lung. I had walked all across San Jose to pick up some epees, drove home, and went into shock. I was living with my parents and they got me to an ER right quick. After waiting for hours, the doc runs in, sticks my flank with a hypo of morphine and I swear, I swear the muther didn't get the damn needle out before cutting me open. He jams a tube into my chest which causes me to go into coughing convulsions and throws a rough suture to tie it in. He's out the door in five minutes. I spent the whole fucking night like that, hooked up to this percolating device that drained the air. It was noisy, not that I could sleep anyway with this tube sticking out of my side. The next morning, the doc runs in, yanks the tube out and pulls the suture shut like a drawstring bag so my scar was this messy pucker for years. Out the door in another five minutes. I saw him again - for five minutes - he had cancelled my first stitch-removal appointment and rescheduled for a week later. By then, the suture was buried deep in my drawstring pucker scar, so he reaches in with some plier-like tool and yanks a big old piece out. It felt like someone struck a match up my side. If I ever see that doctor again, he owes me fifteen minutes of me kicking his ass. Unfortunately I have no memory of what he looked like. The pain and meds blotted it out. Plus I think he wore a mask. Like a Freddy Kruger mask or something...
Shadow boxing the apocalypse