Start at the Beginning
"Are you ready for this?" Tim said as he prepared to unwrap the middle finger. I don' t remember if he had seen it before then or not, but it didn't matter if I was ready so I responded in the affirmative and he unwrapped it.
I think we both quit breathing for a moment. I left the bathroom and moved to our bed as the tears came. This 'new' flesh we had spent the last 3 weeks grafting stood literally 3/4 of an inch above my actual finger in a mangled mess of finger, graft, pin, stitches, ointment, blood, and scabs. Tim held me for a moment and Dr. Barry's words began to haunt me; Would it have been better just to have let them take it off in the ER? After Bandaging it again we moved on.
I laid down on the bed and pulled tape from the incision at my breast as Tim got the next bandage ready. I felt of the stitches. That can't be right. I thought my emotion building to panic. They take children from incisions smaller than this!
I felt sad, defeated, and stupid. I began our nightly Harry Potter reading glad to lose myself somewhere else for a moment.
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