As If ..

it wasn't already quite apparent, I'm not cut out for the medical profession.

This past week, my mom had her defibrillator replaced with a newer model. So far, so good. I didn't have to be anywhere near needles being poked or iv's started or any of the other ooky medical things that can be done to help another human being become healthier. Outside of my encounter of the dorky kind with a hospital sliding door, the trip to the medical center was pretty uneventful.

I even did quite well when Mom decided to do things too quickly and the combination of pain meds, antibiotics, and not quite enough food made her light-headed enough to nearly pass out. Disaster averted, healing continues.

Then came the 48 hour point.

Forty-eight hours after the surgery, it was time to remove the gauze that had been attached with industrial strength tape and slightly imbedded in the staples used to close the incision.

EEP!

We did everything suggested to get that darned gauze removed without pulling on the staples, and there was still a 1/2-inch by 4-inch strip enmeshed. *cringe* Not wanting to encourage an infection or having the gauze become a part of the healing skin, I convinced my mom that a trip to a minor emergency clinic was in order.

An hour later, the physician's assistant came into the room, put on some gloves and ... voila ... three gentle motions later, completely removed the stuck gauze.

The medical profession dodged a bullet when I decided to become a pastor!