You reap what you sew

Sewed up my first patient today.
All week we couldn’t buy a good Newbie PA-S laceration.
“Oh this guy bit his cheek and he’s on Coumadin and the lac is about halfway down his throat…”
“Oh now this one is on a 23 month old kiddo and mom and dad are freaking out”
“Oh this one is on the finger of a old OR nurse who got fired from here and has anger issues and she’s been telling everybody how looooong she’s been waiting (1hr30min) and she’s mad and she wants an ortho consult and she…..”
“And this one….”

I wondered if I was going to have to go down to the Coupeville Butcher, buy a pig’s foot, put a gown on it, slather it up with some Hibiclens, slap it down on an exam table and start sewing to get my fix. But no, I was just waiting for the right patient to arrive. And arrive that patient did, tonight. No, not a 23 year old macho guy. No, not a scruffy red-nosed fella too drunk to know he’s not still at the bar. No, not even a 17 year old who thinks a scar is like a ticket stub proving you paid your way into manhood. My perfect patient for my first sew job? 10 year old girl. Talking about ponies the whole time. And kitties. Bravest patient of the night. Inquisitive, but trusting. Scared, but not whiny. Dad in the room with calming words but a look on his face that told me he wasn’t coming anywhere near the bed, the needles, or his daughter.

From the moment she dropped the sharp garden shears and they plunged into her calf, I think she knew she was getting stitches. What she didn’t know was that she would have a skaky, sweaty, nervous PA student put them in.

I write this from bed with a celebratory beer on my left and Henri, the big black dog on my right.