Have stitches, will travel

After nine (or, is it ten?) days, I decided it was time for my stitches to come out. You didn't think I was going to pay anyone a penny to do something that easy, did you? No, it was my duty to remove them myself.  Before you get freaked out, I have to tell you: I've taken many a stitch out of myself and I've even taken stitches out of the wife's back (she wouldn't let me take her staples out despite the doctor offering me the opportunity--kill joy). I figured this would be an easy ordeal--snip, snip, rip.  The only thing of concern was the angle but I figured I could work around it.

The first order of affairs was to post my intention on Book de la Face.  One must have priorities.

The second order of affairs was to find implements with which to remove the staples.  I thought I had used my Swiss Army knife in the past, but wasn't sure. I can't imagine I used the army knife to take the stitches out of my face but couldn't remember anything else, so shrugged my shoulders and kept moving on.  I gathered up various implements such as the army knife, a sewing kit "ripper thing," an exacto knife, a steak knife and some tweezers.  For good measure, I grabbed a lighter and a bottle of rubbing alcohol (in hindsight, probably not a good idea to have both these items within inches of each other).  I heated up each of the tools (okay, so the steak knife was for looks--I never intended to use it), then used the rubbing alcohol to "super-sterilize" the tools.  I splashed a bunch of rubbing alcohol onto the stitches and leaned back.

In the middle of all this, the wife came screaming in the door, hopping and yelling and howling and grimacing and crying.  "I got stung by a bunch of bees!" She was in understandable, sheer-terror-type pain. She was unable to identify where or how many times she had been stung.  I put down my implements and made her a baking soda paste.  I know how to make a good first aid paste with the best of them. (She's fine, just in pain.  Those bees are so screwed.  I see chemicals in their short-bee-lives.)

It didn't exactly go as planned.  I returned to the kitchen table and grabbed the first stitch. Those puppies had no intention of coming out of there.  I pulled. I sawed.  I yanked.  I cut.  Nothing budging.  I think it was that my skin was stuck to everything.  Maybe I waited too long to try to get them out.  So, I returned to Book de la Face to get more info.  One guy suggested I use cuticle scissors, but after a quick check with the wife, it was determined we own no such implement.  Another tour of the house left me empty handed.

I decided to do what any upstanding American would do: I drove to Wally World.

I went to the World of Wally in search of cuticle scissors or other small cutting device. I grabbed some band-aids and rubbing alcohol (I figured I should probably get more of that) and then wandered toward the chocolate (I was a bit unfocused). That's when it occurred to me: Wally World has a doctor's office!  I meandered toward the small office and read the sign.  Yup, they take stitches out....for $78.  (It was rather bizarre--almost every service they offered was $78.)  Who knew?  I mean, who the hell would think that a chain store would have removal of sutures as an option? I knew my insurance would cover the cost besides the co-pay and I really didn't want to take time off of work to go back to Dr. Derma (it's way across town and would require at least 2 hours of my work day, considering wait and travel time). Even if my insurance didn't cover the cost, it would be worth it.  I bellied up to the bar and waited for the nurse to head my way.

I am here to tell you that I got my money's worth and that the nurse had one hell of a time getting those stitches out of there.  She's digging and pulling and cutting and digging.  "Oh my, that doctor really made these tight!" She tried from one angle, then another.  She moved to the other side of the exam table.  It was quite clear I wouldn't have gotten those things out on my own, no matter how hard I tried.  It was pretty uncomfortable, I must admit.  I was one happy grrrrrl when she was finally done.  I think she was sweating.

When she was finally done, she handed me the scissors and tweezers. "Do you want these? I'm just going to throw them away."

Score!

I am now ready to remove YOUR stitches....and, I'll do it for free.  No need to cough up $78 or sterilize your exacto knife. I've got the implements and a new bottle of rubbing alcohol......