Reason #37
About 4 years ago, I had my first ever and only experience with stitches. I had just moved into a duplex and decided on a DIY project to spruce up my room. I needed a large frame for part of my project, so being a college student and frugal spender, I decided that I would buy a bulletin board, cut the cork out of the middle and use the frame of the board. Now, I want to take a moment to remind you about my dad (see my February 1 entry). Remember, how I said the Lord knew I needed a handy-dad? Well, here's why. I headed out in to the garage with my floral printed box cutter and began working away. I put the board down on the floor, put my left hand on the frame to steady the board and used my right hand to pull the box cutter down the edge of the frame. About 2 seconds into my project, I realized that my tactic wasn't working out as well as planned. As I slid the box cutter down the edge of the frame, it slipped and just so happened to come into contact with my thumb. Thankfully, this all happened so quickly that I didn't feel the box cutter slice off a portion of the tip of my thumb. I knew I had cut myself but I didn't know how bad...yet. I have the weakest stomach of anyone on this planet, so it was a good thing that Lauren happened to be home, too. She went out in the garage, collected the piece of flesh and drove me to the clinic.
I was hoping that the doctor wouldn't give me stitches, so I asked what my options were. I could either a.) have a horrible open wound prone to infection that would take a LONG time to heal and would be very painful or b.) I could have the missing piece stitched back on so that it could provide protection to the wound and speed up the healing process. Obviously, B was the better option, so the nurse gave me the most painful numbing shot I've ever had and in came the doctor to piece me back together. Twenty-some-odd stitches later and I was headed to the pharmacy for pain killers. The stitches were going to have to stay in for a few weeks, which meant that I had to wear a huge bandage on my thumb and keep the stitches clean and moist until they could be taken out. As I stated above, I have the weakest stomach on this planet, so this was quite difficult for me. I could hardly stand to look at those stitches, so each time I had to wash my thumb I got nauseous. As stylish and cute as my big pink bandage was, it presented many challenges in my daily routine.
The weeks passed by and it was time for the stitches to be removed. Thankfully, this process wasn't as painful as getting them. The piece of flesh that was stitched back on didn't taken as it should have. The doctor told me that the piece was really just dead skin that was providing protection for the new skin so it would probably fall off. A couple of weeks later, the little dead patch fell off and a funny looking, pink stub was sticking out in it's place. You'll be glad to know that the pink stub grew into the desired shape so I have a normal looking thumb, with the exception of the scar left from the injury.
Scars. They tell stories. Scars are permanent reminders. They are healed wounds that usually come from a painful circumstance. Along with our scars come learning experiences. Sometimes our scars are more obvious that others. Some of us scar differently than others. Scarring is a natural part of the healing process.
I have new scars, or should I say wounds. I have wounds that are beginning to scar. Being wounded is painful. Sometimes our wounds come as a surprise and sometimes they are of our own doing, however, all wounds must heal. I began to think of my thumb experience today and was encouraged by my thumb's scar. I was really unhappy about my thumb injury when it happened. I did not enjoy getting stitches or having to care for the wound for weeks. I was also very bothered by the bandage I had to wear to keep my thumb protected. However, I think about all that I went through and am so thankful for the doctor who knew how to stitch me up, for the bandage that kept it safe until it healed, and for the new pink skin that began to replace the dead, cut-off flesh. Most of all, I'm glad to have a fully functioning thumb... even if it does have a scar. You better believe that I learned a valuable lesson about how to use a box cutter (let your dad do it for you).
I am thankful for a Great Physician who has stitched me back together. I came to him with a heart that was in pieces and he began to do the stitching. Unfortunately, I didn't get a numbing shot before the stitching began, but not to worry because he is very gentle. My stitches have been in for a while and some days they really drive me crazy! They begin to itch and I wonder when they will come out. I'm ready to see what's under the bandage. I'm ready for the new pieces to take place of what was removed, but I'm reminded that I have to be patient. I'm reminded that healing is a process and with that comes the scars. I've been viewing scars as an ugly, negative result but I'm beginning to realize that scars mean there is healing. Scars mean that there is hope. And scars mean there is a story to be shared.
#37 - Scars.
"But I will restore you to health and heal your wounds,’ declares the LORD..." -Jeremiah 30:17
I was hoping that the doctor wouldn't give me stitches, so I asked what my options were. I could either a.) have a horrible open wound prone to infection that would take a LONG time to heal and would be very painful or b.) I could have the missing piece stitched back on so that it could provide protection to the wound and speed up the healing process. Obviously, B was the better option, so the nurse gave me the most painful numbing shot I've ever had and in came the doctor to piece me back together. Twenty-some-odd stitches later and I was headed to the pharmacy for pain killers. The stitches were going to have to stay in for a few weeks, which meant that I had to wear a huge bandage on my thumb and keep the stitches clean and moist until they could be taken out. As I stated above, I have the weakest stomach on this planet, so this was quite difficult for me. I could hardly stand to look at those stitches, so each time I had to wash my thumb I got nauseous. As stylish and cute as my big pink bandage was, it presented many challenges in my daily routine.
The weeks passed by and it was time for the stitches to be removed. Thankfully, this process wasn't as painful as getting them. The piece of flesh that was stitched back on didn't taken as it should have. The doctor told me that the piece was really just dead skin that was providing protection for the new skin so it would probably fall off. A couple of weeks later, the little dead patch fell off and a funny looking, pink stub was sticking out in it's place. You'll be glad to know that the pink stub grew into the desired shape so I have a normal looking thumb, with the exception of the scar left from the injury.
Scars. They tell stories. Scars are permanent reminders. They are healed wounds that usually come from a painful circumstance. Along with our scars come learning experiences. Sometimes our scars are more obvious that others. Some of us scar differently than others. Scarring is a natural part of the healing process.
I have new scars, or should I say wounds. I have wounds that are beginning to scar. Being wounded is painful. Sometimes our wounds come as a surprise and sometimes they are of our own doing, however, all wounds must heal. I began to think of my thumb experience today and was encouraged by my thumb's scar. I was really unhappy about my thumb injury when it happened. I did not enjoy getting stitches or having to care for the wound for weeks. I was also very bothered by the bandage I had to wear to keep my thumb protected. However, I think about all that I went through and am so thankful for the doctor who knew how to stitch me up, for the bandage that kept it safe until it healed, and for the new pink skin that began to replace the dead, cut-off flesh. Most of all, I'm glad to have a fully functioning thumb... even if it does have a scar. You better believe that I learned a valuable lesson about how to use a box cutter (let your dad do it for you).
I am thankful for a Great Physician who has stitched me back together. I came to him with a heart that was in pieces and he began to do the stitching. Unfortunately, I didn't get a numbing shot before the stitching began, but not to worry because he is very gentle. My stitches have been in for a while and some days they really drive me crazy! They begin to itch and I wonder when they will come out. I'm ready to see what's under the bandage. I'm ready for the new pieces to take place of what was removed, but I'm reminded that I have to be patient. I'm reminded that healing is a process and with that comes the scars. I've been viewing scars as an ugly, negative result but I'm beginning to realize that scars mean there is healing. Scars mean that there is hope. And scars mean there is a story to be shared.
#37 - Scars.
"But I will restore you to health and heal your wounds,’ declares the LORD..." -Jeremiah 30:17
Comments
Post a Comment