Pliers and Tape

How would you think a person trained in medicine would take staples out of a leg? Would you expect a little local anesthetic? Maybe assuming a sympathetic attitude is ridiculously out of the question.

Me? I didn't get either.

I finally got called back into the room with an orthopedic resident. Orthopedics is the study of the musculoskeletal system, which is exactly what I have going on.

This was for my two-week appointment. At this hospital, if you have an appointment with an orthopedic specialist, you come into the waiting room, take your "brown card" (of which they give you six after you leave the first time, so you'll always have one) and appointment paper and paper-clip them together and put them into a box.

Then you have a seat.

A nurse, apparently at some point, takes them out and goes through the information of who, what the app is for and at what time was it scheduled. Eventually they call your name. In my case I hobbled over to the nurses station and strenuously took the seat. The nurse asked me the same preliminary questions that you could imagine if you thought hard enough. Then there were a few detail specific things. Then there was the instruction to go back and sit down and wait for your name again.

The second time I heard my name both Corrie and I went looking for the room my page had directed me. Inside there was a young resident, taller than me but built similarly. He had me take the dressing off, while he looked up my case file on his little computer screen.

That remains the only time I really got any kind of eyeball on my post-op x-ray. It reminded me of Ray Charles building a dock. But that's not fair to either the brilliant Ray Charles or the guys who had to get shards of my knee to align properly.

He clicked the x-ray off pretty quick, likely because he thinks the sight of it would scare us. He obviously doesn't know us.

So, he starts looking at my knee, then opens a drawer and pulls out some sealed surgical pliers. Next is a packet of what look like tape strips. He fumbles around in his pocket for a second and eventually removes some (surgical grade) scissors. He then cuts the tape strips in half, both doubling the number of strips he has as well as making them shorter.

He opens the pliers as he asks both me and Corrie questions, mostly about tobacco use. Then he goes at it. Starting at the bottom he just starts plucking out my staples. Each one makes me flinch a little more than the last.

"No...(teeth hiss)...no smoking...(hiss)...quit a few years ago...(teeth hiss)..."

"That's good...(plink!)...nicotine use makes it...(plink!)...nearly impossible for bone to heal...(plink!)"

You saw how many staples there were, right? It went on from the bottom of my ankle to the top of my forehead.

"No tobacco, no nicotine...no chew...anything, okay?" He was done now, and I was trying to let my twitchy leg relax.

"Sure. Easy enough."

"Ganj is okay," he said with a nod as he turned to check something on the desk. Oh, so pot's okay. That makes sense. Almost made me wish I still hung out with that pretty lady.

Then he started putting on the tape. I was told they would fall off in a few days, that I shouldn't bathe for a week (to let the wound fully seal up), and even then don't soak for too long, and to keep all weight off the leg.

Yeah. On top of that one already boss. The staples were now tape. Moving on down the ladder of office supply suture elements.