Tomorrow will mark three weeks since I willingly allowed myself to be opened up.
The last of the staples came out this afternoon, but I've got a way to go still with that incision. The nurses who popped the staples ended up having to pack gauze into my belly--about an inch worth of it hasn't closed up and there's still significant drainage.
No pain, but the gauze-packing felt weird as hell.
The doctor expected me to do this myself, after the first time. I don't think so. I'm as chickenshit as they get when it comes to doing stuff like that. I'll fearlessly dive into a complicated carburetor rebuild, rebuild an engine in my back yard, get shoulder-deep in oil and grease all day long. But blood and living tissue leave me queasy...especially if it's mine.
Daniel Boone: The Warrior's Path (1960)
2 hours ago