My attempts to eat normal food only ended up in scraping the heck out of the back of my throat. So now I have a scrape that the stitches poke at with every swallow. I called today to see when the horrible things were going to be removed.
“Oh, no, we aren’t removing them. They are absorbable and it takes about four weeks.”
“FOUR WEEKS! But they feel like copper wires and they are POKING and SCRAPING me! AND they are right where my gag reflex starts, so I gag whenever something hits them!”
“If there are some that are sticking down you can trim them. Otherwise, I know it is tough but there isn’t more we can do.”
I hung up and decided that I now lived in WTFland. I CAN TRIM THEM? Let’s think about that. I’ll just hold a flashlight and a mirror and open my mouth wide and WITH MY THIRD ARM I will reach way back in my throat and snip hanging stitches.
OR I could have my husband do it.
My husband and I are like the Ricardos’. Only Brent doesn’t yell. Brent is Mr Cool and Controlled in a Situation. As long as the Situation does not involve needles or gross medical procedures. I have repeatedly asked him for a week to look at my mouth and he has checked my queen every time. But I am determined. He is going to look and if the pain is from extra pieces of stitches then he is going to trim them….or else.
So I put on Pathetic Face and told him the conversation. Then I changed to Hopeful Face and said (with folded hands), “She said, um, YOU could trim up any extra and that might help me! Can you look and see if there are any? Maybe that is the problem. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
A pregnant pause. Wow, if he doesn’t say something soon this pause is going into labor.
“You want me to trim up stitches.”
Without any medical scissors.”
“And what would I use to do this?”
“Nnnnnnnaaaaaiiiilllll clippers…..right. No.”
Ok, lip quivering time and well placed sniffle.
“Oh please can you JUST LOOK?”
“FINE!” He slapped down his book and un-reclined himself from the couch. I tiptoe-ran to the couch and plopped on it, laying down and opening my mouth expectantly. Grabbing a small flashlight, he bent down and peered in. After a few seconds his mouth made a grimace.
(Thank my husband for refusing to take a picture of it. He said it was low class.)
“Ok, yes there are big stitches back there. But nothing hanging down. You just have lots of them attached to the top of your mouth. It does look a little like wire. And from what I can see, food is getting caught and probably pulling. Bye the way, swallow all that food will you? I am totally grossed out by this. What did you eat that’s all goo’d up?”
“Why would you ever try that?”
“I’m HUNGRY. And I thought if I warmed it up it would go down easily.”
Well, it looks all stuck up in the stitches.”
“That’s part of the problem! It’s all STUCK! My life sucks! Just cut the stupid stitches! I’m just done with this!”
“You have lost your mind. Remember the bleeding issue? I cut it and that could start a big problem. Plus you don’t know what they are holding up. Now get a grip and stop trying to eat stuff that wont go down. And unless you taste blood I don’t want to look in there again. Especially around dinnertime. It’s gross.”
So for now I am stuck with swallow-scrape-GAG. And Egg Custard.