Well, that hurt. I went back to the dermatology center today — I think that’s also the name of the place. It’s about a half hour away and it is clearly a front for some jobs program. I have been there three times in less than three months and I have seen five different people in their exam rooms. First was the woman who did the summary inspection, a nice young woman already washed out before her term, staring at people’s skin all day. She had an assistant who excelled in not being at all visible or memorable. Two weeks ago, another person did the operation. Firm handshake. No real sense of humor. Michigan man. The woman who assisted him was delightful and kind, the sort that seems to have an irrepressible sense of good cheer about her. She’s probably been reprimanded about that before. I liked her immensely.

Today, which I have been looking forward to for the better part of the last two weeks, is when the sutures came out. I’ve been looking forward to it so, naturally, I was eight minutes late. Also, I had to go alone, because my lovely wife was out of town.

I was very brave.

Once, several years ago I was in a hospital waiting room and a mom and her young child came through. It was some sort of visit for the kid, and the staff at the admissions desk made an appropriately big deal about him. I was still there when they were through, and the woman at the desk remembered him and she asked, in her adult voice, not the patronizing kid voice, “Were you very brave?” And, of course, the little boy was, and I think of that from time to time. Today I was very brave.

This is what it was. I stuck my head in the at the desk. The woman there said they’d be right with me. I sat down just in time to be called to the back. A woman walked my around a byzantine set of hallways to an exam room. I asked her if she would be the one dealing with me today (because see above). She was the one that was dealing with me today. I asked her my series of carefully memorized and rehearsed questions. I got satisfactory answers to all of them. And then she proceeded to rip this industrial strength cable through my tender, delicate skin.

This was, again, just inside my shoulder, so I couldn’t see it but there were several sharp burning pulling moments. I wanted a local for this. When I got back in the car, in a few minutes later, I realized this was the worst the thing has felt since it was a thing. But Tylenol took care of that later in the afternoon.

So I had five stitches. Now I have none. And I went from a gauze pad to a Band-Aid. And, in a few days, it’s back to normal.

I have to have another checkup in a few months though. Standard procedure. I have been assured that the tests came back from the lab in fine order. The humorless man from Michigan land must know what he’s doing.

These have been sitting in my phone for a few days, and I don’t know why I keep forgetting to share them. So let’s share them. The last color of the hydrangeas, in the warm bath of a flood light.

They get bent over in the late summer rains, and never really recover their posture. But, aside from that, I enjoy the changing colors of these petals a great deal. There’s just a lot of character and nuance there. Like the bush is trying to tell me of the season, or the longer, cooler nights. I don’t know.

For another week or so, I’ll have that to ponder, and then soon it’ll just be sticks and twigs and waiting until it bursts back to life in March and April.

I could make that a metaphor, but my entourage of dermatology experts have told me I still must avoid heavy lifting for a few more days.