Stitches

 A story from my book "Grandma's Stories."

 

 

Stitches

I have had stitches many, many times in my life.  With my many surgeries, I have been stitched up lots of times in my adulthood.  Let’s see, I think I have had seven surgeries in my adulthood: C-section, two knee replacements, gall bladder removal, lump removed from my back, breast lumpectomy, and lymph node ectomy.  I am scarred.  But the stories I want to tell are the three times I had stitches as a child.

The first time I had stitches was when I was just two-years-old.  I was a cute, little girl.  In our house, we had stairs to the basement.  They were covered in vinyl with metal stripping along the edge of each one.  Whose idea was that?  They were dangerous.  Each metal strip was held in place with screws.  There were lots of sharp edges.  One day, I was crawling up the stairs and my hand slipped.  I went down hard on my chin, cutting it open on one of the sharp edges.  I cried out in pain.  My daddy came running.  This is actually my first memory- my dad coming for me, picking me up, and carrying me up to the top of the stairs where there was a bathroom, putting me on the counter, cleaning my wound and looking at it.  I remember all of that.  But that’s all I remember.  But, being a doctor, he determined I needed stitches and he took me to the hospital emergency room where I was stitched up.  I don’t remember that part, but I have the scar to prove it. 

The next time I had stitches was when I was about four or five years old.  My sister, Joan was two years younger than me.  We were playing with paper dolls.  Joan wanted me to cut out some clothes for the dolls.  I accidentally cut off the tabs with which you attach the clothes to the dolls.  She was mad.  She grabbed the scissors from me and sliced my wrist with them.  She then ran to hide under her bed while I went to the hospital for more stitches.

The third time I had stitches was when I was five years old.  That year, our home was remodeled.  A very large dining room and family room were added.  Nearing the end of the construction, my parents left my older siblings in charge and went shopping for new furniture for the new rooms.  Neighbor kids came to play at the construction site.  The workers had left planks and nails and dangerous things.  We were playing a game where we leaned a plank against the newly constructed deck and climbed up it and onto the deck.  As I was climbing, Billy Baulding, who was in front of me, slipped and fell backward into me, causing me to fall.  I landed face first on a protruding nail.  Blood poured from my damaged lip. Knowing they were at Blacker’s Furniture Store, my siblings called my parents, who came home quickly.  They took me to the hospital to have my lip sewn.  It was badly damaged and it is, by far, my worst scar.  I think my dad felt bad about it my whole life as he mentioned it occasionally. 

 

When you see me next, ask me to show you my scars.  Have you had stitches?  Do you have scars?