This week with Arlene and Jeff:
...“Your hair is clean, and so is the wound. We’ve eaten breakfast, and there’s no reason to put this off any longer. Are you ready?”
She could swear he chuckled. “Okay, sit tight, and I’ll be back.”
To be safe, she swabbed alcohol over the wound area. With a tiny pair of scissors in hand, as well as the tiny forceps that she had used to force the needle through the skin when she put the stitches in, she sat him against a tree and knelt beside him in full sunlight. She had left an ample length of the thread hanging out so it would be easy to find the stitches when it came time to remove them; however, swelling had pulled the knots below skin level. To clip the stitch so it would pull out, she had to work the scissor tips far enough below skin level to reach the knot. That required digging around with the end of the sharp-nosed scissors. Once she had snipped the main part of the thread, she easily pulled the stitch free. He only flinched slightly during the process. Thirteen more to go.
Phillip occasionally made a slight hissing sound as she dug the stitches out, and she kept apologizing as sweat beaded her forehead while she searched for the knots. Finally, “That’s number fourteen, Baby,” she said as she dabbed the few drops of blood from the wound and applied antibiotic cream to the whole area. “I’m sorry, Baby. I know that stung like crazy, but the swelling had pulled the thread so deeply into the flesh that I had to dig some of the stitches out – as you well know,” she added.
His body was shaking, and it took a second for her to realize that he was chuckling. He had been relaxed throughout the whole process, while she had sweat beading her forehead. “Oh, You,” she said as she gently whacked him on the shoulder. “I think it was harder on me to take the stitches out than it was on you. Of course, when I stitched you up, there was blood everywhere, and it was scaring me half to death. I suppose that kept my mind off the stitching. But… amateur or not, those were some very nice stitches. In six months, your scar will be barely detectible,” she bragged...
Have a goodun;
Roust