The Itch

Dear Dr. Thomajan,

I am so sorry. I am really, really, really sorry.

But I took my bandages off a little early. I know you said to wait until Saturday and although I did take them off early, since I saw you on Thursday, it's not like I violated your orders by whole weeks or anything. Just by twelve hours or so. I apologize.

The thing is that I was really prepared for there to be discomfort after you took all those stitches out. You can't have miles of twine removed from your skin without having some sort of residual discomfort, right? I just thought the discomfort would be PAIN. I was not prepared for The Itch.

It almost defies description. Take the worst poison ivy itch you've ever had and then throw about six million mosquitoes into it. Add the chicken pox. Add hives and measles. That might get you somewhere in the neighborhood of what that Itch felt like. I've never felt anything like it. It made me rethink my views on torture. I now know that the worst torture I can imagine -- what I picture hell to be like-- is not being trapped in an elevator with endless loops of Peter Cetera singing "The Next Time I Fall" over and over and over again but is really having The Itch and not being able to scratch it.

So, I took off my bandages and I had the best scratch fest of my entire life. Whole pieces of skin were flying around. I avoided the actual wounds, except for once when I get closer than I realized. (I'm trying to be honest here.)

I know you are disappointed. I have been trying SO HARD to follow all of your directions because I figure the more I do, the faster I'll heal and get to be off of these crutches (another instrument of torture) and back to laying tile and tilling up my yard.

But I was just powerless against The Itch. I'm sure it has felled stronger women than I.

Yours in need of exfoliation,
Barb Cooper