The Plastic Surgeon

I felt a silly calling the doctor with such a bizarre question. "Don't laugh at me," I told the nurse, "But it looks like there's... a string... sticking out of his head."

It might sound more dramatic than it actual was, but that little fleck of "dry white skin" that stuck out of Nathan's recent scar (smack in the middle of his forehead) was not a fleck of "dry white skin" after all.

After speaking with our beloved pediatrician, the nurse called me back and scheduled an appointment just to be safe. It's not unheard of for inside stitches to pop out of the skin during the healing process. I had never heard of such a thing, but learned later that two men in my family had this happen and they both, in true man-fashion, fiddled with the string and trimmed them with desk scissors until they disappeared. However, I am a mother of a seven year old boy, and not a man, so we went to the doctor's in true mother-fashion.

While I love our pediatrician, I can't say visiting the doctor's with four children is my favorite thing to do. One of the children always likes to reminisce about when I almost fainted after having Nathan’s second set of stitches taken out, another child is telling me about the rash they have on their leg, one needs to go to the bathroom, and all the while I'm wondering if this is yet another twenty dollars spent to hear, "They'll be fine." After the usual long wait, our sweet doctor arrived with tweezers, small scissors, and a large magnifying glass.

After several moments of gentle pulling and prodding at the white fray under the glass, the doctor looked at me and said quietly, "I think you will need to see a plastic surgeon."

Nathan, tall and handsome in his suit, looks down at his bride. She teases him for the string sticking out of his head just as he teases her for the way she twitches her nose. They say their marriage vows and both flawed lives are merged as one, strings, birthmarks, and all.

The surgeon slices open the newly formed scar in order to retrieve the rogue knot.

The nanosecond was over. I laughed, loudly, in the doctor's face.

The doctor explained that in all other cases (note the "all other cases") he pulls the tail of the string until the little loop knot appears, which he snips, pulls the string out, and sends the family on their way. But, because it's Nathan Saavedra, he pulled on the string and the knot presented itself as a small bulge under the skin. There was talk of snipping the string as close to the skin as possible in hopes that it retract under the skin, but there was still a possibility that an open hole would leave way for infection, so we decided to make arrangements for the surgeon.

I waited for the doctor to consult with some colleagues for their opinion. Then we waited for the referral to go through. Finally an appointment with the surgeon was made. I arranged to drop the children off at my in-law's for the day of who-knows-what and a month later the day finally arrived.

As fate would have it, the day before the appointment... the string falls out!

There was still a small white knot under the skin and I spent most of the day contemplating my choices. Do I cancel the appointment with the belief that the knot will work itself out? "Hey, Nathan, let me see your head again!" But will I get charged for a late cancellation? "Hey, Nathan, bring me the tweezers and sit under this light!" But what if it doesn't figure itself out? "Nathan, honey, let me see it one more time."

I kept the appointment.

That morning, as I dressed, I remembered a former dentist of mine that would inspect my mouth and then give his best pitch for teeth whitening or why I needed braces. I chose a simple very-me outfit, checked my profile, and sucked in my stomach.

As I searched the surgeon’s website for her address I came face to face with a before picture of something sad and droopy and the after picture that proved perkiness and happy youth. I chose to not look too carefully at the before picture lest it hit too close to home. Will there be pictures of her work hang on the walls for all, including seven year olds to see? I packed the iPad knowing the Star Wars game would keep Nathan's attention through an apocalypse.

As it turns out, the office was decorated with modern art work and plants. Nathan spent some of his time explaining why he thought the plants were fake. He felt them, talked loudly of the dust that sat on their leaves, and tried ripping one to prove that real plants wouldn't rip like that. He was silenced when I revealed the iPad.

After only a few minutes we my were ushered into a large surgery room complete with full length mirror. Nathan, growing noticeably tall, shrunk as he sat down in the Sweeny Todd chair.

Not a minute later in walks this slender older woman with dark hair flowing down her back! Her formal green dress and pointy black stilettos easily outweighed our monthly grocery budget! (Not that I judge a book by its cover, of course!) Was I intimated? Of course, not. I just sat up straighter.

She was kind and quick. After a couple of pokes and prods, you know what she says? Of course. He's fine and by eighteen you won't even see it! As she reminded me to use sunscreen on the healing scar I wasn't sure if she was looking at my beautiful necklace or if she couldn't help but seeing things as they could be.

We were in and out in fifteen minutes. Next time I’m breaking out the desk scissors.