Sterile/Latex Free
Like the
room in your doctor's clinic, the one used for procedures, the one with
"good lighting," and the one you visit every few weeks.
Contents:
Alcohol Wipe
The
doctor examines you. Dark black sutures push up and out of the light brown skin
of your forearm. Are they trying to escape or being rejected? Both could be the
answer, you think, as alcohol is applied to your skin. Alcohol, which is at
first cold and then stings, much like the words that come out of your partner's
mouth with each completed cocktail.
Povidone-Iodine Prep
The
doctor rubs the pad gently along the jagged wound on your arm from the
"cooking accident" that brought you to the ER last week. The
yellow-brown liquid matched the healing bruises you've cleverly concealed under
your eyes. Yet, you avoid their gaze as they make small talk. Just in case.
Tweezer
Scissors
4x4 inch gauze square
Holding
each suture by the knot, the doctor slips the scissors under it, severing the
tie. If only your bonds unraveled, your binds severed, if only each day didn't
feel like the tightening of a noose. You finger your wedding band as they snip
each one until ten small broken pieces lie on the gauze. If only all your
broken bits were this small and removable.
They return to you, gently rub in bacitracin, and bandage
the raw skin, the puckered, jagged laceration with pinpoints of blood where the
sutures once resided. They tell you there may be a scar. They don't know there
are more deep inside.
The doctor asks if you're okay and if you need any pain
medications. Slips a number into your hand and asks if you're safe, if they
could help get you removed from the trauma you're embedded in.
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