Just as I am putting the finishing touches in the "what do I need and should bring" packing department, I cut myself with a pair of scissors. Looking at my finger I realize it needs stitches. It's 10 o'clock at night and there's no way I am heading to ER with this thing. Not because of the wait, not because I don't trust the great doctors who work there (they're my colleagues so I can't say anything bad), not because it's late and I'm tired....but because my previously mentioned colleagues would have years of material and fodder to make fun of this clumsiness.
Interesting rapport we have as emerg docs. When one of us comes in with a dislocated shoulder from hockey or a broken nose from a spectacular mountain bike crash, we expertly treat the medical concerns then promptly make fun of our buddy the victim. It's a great camaraderie and even if we're all often talking about giving it up due to stresses of that type of work, we all enjoy working in the pit alongside trustworthy colleagues. Just don't get hurt.
So my loving wife expertly sutured my finger. She was thinking she might as well continue offering her expertise as a physician practicing cosmetic medicine and was planning some Botox to my facial geography but I declined. It helped to have some suturing supplies at home for these occurrences. Can't say that we maintained the best of sterile technique with the procedure...and there was enough time for the obligatory picture of the finger, suture needle sticking out of the laceration's bloody perimeter. This will inevitably be on Facebook in no time....
Oh, well. I'm all caffeined up for the morning flight to Houston and then to Guadalajara. By the way, I will now refer to it as Guad. It's too long to type. Arriving at 4:30 and as soon as I am in the Village, I have to build a medical clinic.
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