I went to a local amusement park with the cousins a few years ago. The park was pretty much deserted because most kids were already back in school.
We got on the roller coaster, which is the only decent ride in the park. When we coasted into the station, there was no one in line, so the cousins started to yell "one more time, one more time" to get to go again. We never even stopped. We just ran right through the station and up the hill and went again------and again, and again and again and again and again and again! I began to wonder if I was going to have to fill out my social security papers while sitting on that coaster!
Now I love roller coasters but not quite that much! Seven times around without stopping left even this dare devil feeling like I was about to see my lunch--one more time.
You know what I mean. You begin to get this little sick feeling that slowly intensifies until you begin to feel tingly and then eventually you break out into a sweat and your throat gets real tight just before you realize that you need to get to a bathroom, trash can, plastic bag, or anything cylindrical SOON!
Sometimes life is like riding a roller coaster 7 times without stopping. Today was one of those days.
I have spent the last 10 days frantically trying to keep 3 stitches in my son's right hand clean and intact. And since his nickname is "Dirt Magnet", I might as well have formulated a 5 year plan to end global warming. It would have been simpler!
Just as that coaster went round and round, I followed my son everywhere singing "have you washed your hands lately? Are going outside to play? Put a bandaid on your hand first. Have you washed your hands lately? Put a bandaid on your hand first!"
Well, today was the big appointment to go and have those stitches removed and be free of them forever! You would think, okay, we're on the down side of this ride now! Just how much trouble can removing 3 stitches be??? Well........ let me tell you!
Stitch #1 had fallen out by the second day of his injury, leaving a gaping spot like a large black hole in space. Stitch #2 seemed to be buried down inside the black hole under some skin that had formed over it when it came untied. By today, the third stitch was also buried under new skin and had not even a trace of a knot or an end in sight for the doctor to grab onto to pull it out.
Now my doctor is getting up in years but not even close to senility, so I trust his many years of experience and knowledge. But when he looked at my son's hand and got a puzzled look on his face, I began to feel a little queasy. "Where did you get these stitches", he asked. Tingle! Tingle!
Then the gigantic operation room type light came on and I started to sweat a little. Then the mega-magnifiying glasses were donned! This was looking serious! I started scoping out the whereabouts of the closest trash can.
But the big giveaway that we were in major trouble was when instead of pulling tweezers out of the magic drawer to remove the stitches with, he pulled out a scapel! Then I saw my son get a funny, puzzled look like maybe his tummy was starting to feel a little queasy too.
So now a moment of deja vu, round 6 of the roller coaster ride from hell! I realized that we had entered the station to repeat the last 10 days--one more time!
My son now has a nice, neat slice where the jagged nail tear was 10 days ago. But this time there are steri strips instead of stitches. ("steri" as in keep it sterile!) Yea! Right!
And my worst nightmare has come true! The doctor looked at me and said "make sure you keep this clean"--ONE MORE TIME!
STOP THIS RIDE! I WANT TO GET OFF!!!!