How I became the Houdini of the post-surgery world, escaping from my own stitches – Susan Morrison
Fortunately, skilled medics can seal them up nice and securely. Well, there was one that sprang a leak in Lidl, a line no-one wants on their medical history.
It’s always a great moment when you get your stitches out, and this one was a doozie. It was a chunky lump on my back, and peculiarly, it appeared to have been sewn up with the sort of rope that could have tied up the Queen Mary.
Three great long tails of thick dark string were dangling down from the wound. It looked like they’d got to the end of the operation and said, “dang, out of the fancy thread to sew up here. We’ll just use this stuff round this parcel. She can’t see it, it's round the back”.
The great day came when they could come out, which was a total relief, because after a shower it felt like great soggy dreadlocks down my back. It was a cause of much discussion at my surgery.
The marvellous practice nurses had a right old poke about, and then announced that one was missing. Hold on, they said, there should be three. There’s only two. What have you done with the third one?
Well, get me, Houdini of the post-surgery world, escaping from my own stitches. To this day, I have no idea where the missing thread is and can only assume the Stitch Fairy arrived in the night and took it, in which case, I’m missing a pound under my pillow.
They removed the remaining two, painlessly, because they are fantastic at their job, and left another reminder of another surgery.
Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m not bothered by my scars. Well, it's been a long time since I’ve donned a bikini.
These days my body really is beach ready, if the beach is Portobello and the body is a washed-up orca who’s gone a couple of rounds with a swordfish.