{"id":573898345,"date":"2025-10-10T20:09:46","date_gmt":"2025-10-11T00:09:46","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.kennysmith.org\/wordpress\/?p=573898345"},"modified":"2025-10-19T20:08:42","modified_gmt":"2025-10-20T00:08:42","slug":"cutting-pieces-off","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.kennysmith.org\/wordpress\/blog\/2025\/10\/10\/cutting-pieces-off\/","title":{"rendered":"Cutting pieces off"},"content":{"rendered":"

I went in for a little medical procedure today. This was planned. I am fine. We scheduled this several months ago. There was a mysterious spot no one liked on my back. (I, however, was fine with it. Couldn’t see it. Wasn’t bothering me.) So they did a biopsy. The lab work determined it was the sort of thing that’s not a danger today, but you don’t want it around tomorrow. And so today was that day.<\/p>\n

There was bleeding and stitches. I’m calling it a surgery. There was not enough anesthetic. There is never enough anesthetic. For the record, should you be with me when I need medical attention, it is general anesthetic or bust. <\/p>\n

The guy asked me what I would like, as I had had time to peruse their generous offerings on the menu, accessible by QR code. I said I’d take the local, and then two regionals, please and thank you. Oh, I played it tough. I said I don’t want to feel the sensation of you tugging on my skin, even in the areas around the professional butchery. In truth, I want to be down the hall, around the corner, and across town at the mall. I don’t want to remember any of this. <\/p>\n

Especially when the local begins to wear down. Which did happen. And I don’t want to hear you and your assistant discussing the finer points of the size of the suture material. Get the good stuff. Get it fast. Let’s stop the bleeding and have a blast. <\/p>\n

I tried to enter into a discussion with the guy — hey, he let me stay conscious and that was his choice — about all of the things I can and can’t do in the next several weeks of recovery. I think he came to think I was arguing with him, but I saw it as a negotiation. What if I do this, but not hard or well?<\/em> Finally his colleague laughingly said I can’t do the dishes for two weeks. And yard work, that’s right out. I guess the new phalanx of ninjas will see their training delayed, as well. <\/p>\n

I am told the incision was the size of a couple of quarters. And I’m sure it will not feel pleasant tomorrow. I am to treat with alternating dosages of Ibuprofen and Tylenol. <\/p>\n

What in the wide world of medicine is going on with these orders?<\/p>\n

The dressing has to get changed twice a day for the next two weeks. Stitches come out in 14 days. And, supposedly, I am to take it easy for three to four weeks, though even the derma-guy said, “But you have to live your life.”<\/p>\n

So I’ll milk it as long as I can, I guess? Or until I go stir crazy or feel guilty about not pulling my share around here. <\/p>\n

Hey, at least the local stayed with me for much of the day. Operating under the idea that I’ll be equally uncomfortable wherever I am, we went to watch an Army-Navy doubleheader. Women’s soccer, and then men’s soccer. I even saw the Goodyear blimp. <\/p>\n

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The Middies won the women’s game. And before the men played The Leap Frogs jumped onto the field. <\/p>\n