As my mother likes to say, I was always the good one. I rarely get told I am wrong, or I did something improperly, so when it happens, I don't really know how to react. In my youth, it was pretty common that getting after me in school meant I was going to cry. I hated it, but in my pursuit to always be good and right, occasionally when I was wrong, I would end up in a heap of tears. I grew out of this in junior high, and although I still hate to be in the wrong, at least I can keep my composure.
It happened today in the doctor's office. He looked at the skin graft and finally sat down and gave me the hardest scolding anyone has (other than Wife and my Mom who do it daily, so that doesn't count) in a long, long time. He explained how I was not listening to his instruction, that I was not doing my part to help the graft to heal, I need to stay immobile and with my leg up. He explained the graft as coming from my skin where the skin is maybe a 120 page book and he took 60 pages and moved them to the graft site. With all of my moving around, I have broken up the upper 20 to 30 pages of the work he did. There is still new skin there and it will probably be ok, but I need to seriously stop with all the extra curricular activities. He said, without allowing me to defend myself, "I know, you thought it would be good to go running to the mall, and go watch movies at the theater, and taking trips out of town..." At the same time, another nurse was removing the staples and that did pinch a bit, so it was hard to formulate a response, not that he was letting me talk, while holding in the "ugh" every time she pulled the 20-30 staples.
If that wasn't bad enough, he sat down to "clean-up" the site. All the skin that was loose and dark, he cut off. He just used tweezers, lifted the skin a bit and cut to the surface. This of course, made a lot of blood come to the surface, which is weird, because until now, I haven't hardly seen blood coming from the site, even when it was a big hole.
I think he wore himself out getting after me, he eased his position towards the end saying we all do what we have to do, and then we just have to live with the consequences. He gave me a jab on the shoulder and said it looked ok, once he cleaned it up, and that it would probably be ok.
Not making excuses, but last week they told me that the graft had taken and that it wouldn't fall off by me moving naturally, just to not overdo it. They also said that the only way it would fail is if it took a direct hit or I sheared that skin by rubbing aggressively against something. Given those instructions, I gradually was doing more and more this week, thinking it was ok. I have not been to the mall, or taken trips out of town, but I did go to the movies, I guess even that is too much, so I shall nest on my bed for a week, which will be hard as heck to do.
At least the dressing has gotten smaller and smaller, now I only have to cover the wound and a couple inches above and below it. I hated having to do from my toes to my kneecap every day.
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