Tramatic

Surgery / Traumatizing experience √

I’m hoping I won’t have to check that box again during my remaining 4 months here. Two weeks after the surgery I finally got my stitches removed. My surgeon told me to come back for him to take them out, but the PC doctor told me I could just do it at the health center in my site. At the time I was relieved to hear that I didn’t have to take a 3 hour bus ride just for a 10 minute appointment of removing stitches that was before I actually removed my stitches.

I went to the health center and interrupted the on-duty nurse from watching the news, so that started the visit off to a lovely start. She asked me what I needed and I explained that I needed my stitches removed; she asked how long I’ve had them and I replied about two weeks and she looked at me like I was crazy. Luckily, I had a letter from my surgeon that clearly explained that July 11 was the day to remove the stitches, so I wasn’t the crazy one. Technically the surgeon wrote I should have an appointment with him, which the nurse pointed out to me, but I told her if she was capable of removing them that would be just fine. Begrudgingly she obliged and began looking for a pair of scissors and tweezers.

She dug right in and began tugging and snipping, as I sat gripping the bed and biting my lip in order to prevent myself from screaming. I had four stitches and she was able to remove two. She didn’t try very hard to remove the other two stitches and simply dismissed me by saying that they’ll come out on there own. And that was it, she returned to the other room to resume watching the news.

It wasn’t exactly the bedside manner that I received from the doctors in Managua, and from my few visits that I’ve had to the health center previously it didn’t really surprise me all that much. But I was not about to just let the stitches come out on there own, with my luck I would have another infection, etc. So I walked home and took out my own tweezers to get rid of those last two stitches. It took a little bit of time and patience but I was able to get a hold of the stitch. It looped through my foot so I had quite a bit to remove. I gently pulled it through, but then it stuck…I stopped took a deep breath and tugged it free. (I’m getting goose bumps just thinking about this) I screamed and let out a sailor’s rant of swear words. It was free. It’s amazing how a little piece of thread about 2 centimeters long could hurt so much.

I was a bit hesitant to remove the final stitch, but did it without any hitches, screams or swearing. That’s it. Now I’ll have a scar on the bottom of my foot to remind me of the whole experience.