Stiches

It was summer, and I was 8. I was riding bikes with my sister along a main road that connected to my neighborhood. I decided to try some lame trick, and I crashed my bike, cutting open my right knee in the process. When I stood up (in the middle of the road), my sister took one look at my knee and said, "Yep, you're going to need stitches." Luckily, no cars came while we were in the middle of the road.

The cut was bleeding a little, there were little bits of gravel inside, and the whole site was pretty gory. I couldn't bend my knee without it hurting, so I had to walk my bike home, hobbling slowly. My sister walked her bike home too so that I wouldn't be alone.

I showed the wound to my mother and she agreed: stitches it would need. So off to the ER we went. I remember laying on the table while the doctor cleaned the grisly mess. After most of the rocks were out, he used a little hose to clean out the nooks and crannies. He said he was "irrigating." Having water sprayed into my body was something I had never felt before, and it actually felt amazing. They also had to cut out some tissue that was pretty messed up. Honestly, it looked like a little brain with some blood on it. (Sorry for all the gore. This post should be rated PG-13.) Strangely, that didn't really hurt either.

But then he had to deaden my knee before he stitched it up, and those shots hurt the very most. "Like little bee stings," the nurse aptly explained. Yes. Thank you.

Once I was stitched up, they had to fit me for a brace to wear for a month so that I wouldn't bend my knee and rip the stitches out. They molded the brace to the back of my leg and then wrapped the whole thing in a bandage. I picked a hot pink one. I can't believe they even had a hot pink one. I guess those doctors were totally up with the times.

So I wore this brace for a month, doing some more hobbling around since I couldn't bend my knee. I'm pretty sure my whole family made fun of me. (Try walking around with one leg straightened the whole time. You'll look awesome.) We also took a trip to Lake Powell in the middle of the month and, luckily, I could take the brace off and swim. But I had to put this salve on and bandage myself back up the minute I got out of the water.

When I got the stitches out, I remember my mom saying, "Well, you'll never be a leg model." Yes. Thanks. I also remember the doctor giving me a couple of suckers. Totally worth it.

And that is the story of how I got stitches. I think maybe because my right knee has less tissue to cushion it, it is more sensitive. And so, like an old arthritic lady, I am always reminded of the stitches and the suckers and the hot pink bandage every time it rains.