Ew

When I was born, I had heart surgery and, as a result, have scars. I have one scar on my chest, one on my back and a few little scars along my rib cage from the drainage tubes. My cardiologist, at my last checkup, mentioned that I still had a stitch in my back and said it would be a simple task to take it out with a pair of tweezers and no longer have that dark spot on my back. Tonight, I ventured to take it out.

My first attempt was after I showered, since he recommended that I do it then because my skin would be moist and make the task easier. I grabbed the tweezers, looked in the mirror and tried my best to reach all the way around and take it out. Alas, to my travail, I couldn’t get it out. My older sister, Alexis, is visiting from Boston for the next few months, and I remembered that she loves doing things like this––picking at anything abnormal on the skin. So, naturally, I asked her assistance. She jumped at the offer. I swabbed the tweezers and a needle and then it began: I laid down on the floor, Alexis sat on my back performing the surgery and mom held the phone light. After about a half an hour though, Alexis came to the conclusion that the stitch must have fallen out previously because she couldn’t find it in the scar tissue. However, she said that the scar tissue grew to be like a little loop on my back. Or rather, a piercing. In fact, she took the liberty to stick the needle through the hole, and indeed, it looked like a legit piercing. So now, I can say I have a “back-piercing.” Talk about being hard core: getting a “back-piercing” from a cardiologist. Aw yeh!

No...
 no, never mind.