So, I'll be sporting some big ass scars when all is said and done. My daughter says I should tell people that I got my scars while in the Army. She seems to think that explains everything. The fact that I was never in the Army doesn't seem to concern her too much, though. I had my staples taken out yesterday, which stings like a mofo. I mean, really. It stings like mad when they take those staples out. I tried to get the nurse to give me the staple remover because I thought that they threw them out after one use because they come in these sealed plastic bags, but she said they sterilize them and reuse them, so she wouldn't hand it over. Bitch. It looked like a very handy tool. I'd already taken out one staple myself Saturday night because it was elevated above the skin and kept getting caught on things and pulling, which hurt. Plus it was moving around a lot, which was really irritating to the area, so I used tweezers and a pair of needle-nose pliers to rip that sucker out. Actually, I was very careful. But when I took it out, I was left with a scar that looks like a division sign. My daughter thinks that's pretty cool. I had to stop taking the Tylenol 3 I'd been giving because I'm driving pretty regularly now, so the doc gave me a script for Darvocet. But when I got home and read the pharmacy information, it said darvocet is a combination of narcotic and non-narcotic pain medications and I was a little upset because I told the doctor I wanted a non-narcotic medication. Anyway, I'm taking it, I just hope there's not enough narcotic to get me in trouble with the coppers.
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