"A Stitch Removal in Time Saves My Sanity" by Troy H. Cheek on Jan 21, 2005

Wednesday, over 2 weeks after my carpal tunnel release surgery (sorry, "minor procedure"), I returned to my doctor's office to have the stitches removed. I fully expected to be told that the swelling was too bad and that I would have to wait yet another week. I had mistakenly thought that the stitches would be removed on the previous visit and was rather disappointed when they weren't.

I had labored under several misconceptions prior to the surgery. Some of these were due to my own assumptions, and some of them I blame on the doctor trying to soft sell the more unpleasant aspects of the procedure. First of all, I had the crazy idea that carpal tunnel release involved an incision in the wrist area, since that's where the doctor poked me while describing it. The incision is actually in the heel of the palm. Secondly, I was under the impression that the arm would only be immobilized for a few days and that stitch removal would take place one week after surgery. In actuality, I was immobilized for over a week, and the stitches were not removed until after two weeks. The swelling which I expected to go away almost immediately after surgery might actually hang on for months, I was later told.

The big highlight is that the pain has been much more manageable than I had feared it would be. I've been completely drug-pill-free for over a week now. I'm saving all these pills just in case.

Anyway, with much trepidation I proceeded to the doctor's office Wednesday morning. I had a moment of panic when I saw that the waiting room was completely empty, but then I remember the doctor saying I would only be seeing a nurse that day. I signed in to see the nurse and was immediately shown back to a room.

At this point, I should probably mention a detail of my previous visit that I might have skipped over earlier. When the nurse removed the dressing on my arm, she wasn't the most gentle woman who'd ever held me. She really jammed the scissors under the bandages and cut rather savagely. When I jokingly asked her if she was using the scissors with a rounded ends, she actually had to pull the scissors out and look at them before she could answer. When I made some asinine comment about her cutting me more than the surgeon did, her reply was that she wasn't allowed to scar the patients anymore.

For a moment I actually thought I had met a kindred spirit who was using her gruff exterior to mask a heart of gold. I kept thinking that right up until she tried to pull the gauze away from the stitches on my palm. The stitches had bled through a little and the gauze was stuck. The gauze actually slipped out of her hand as she tried to pull it. I reached up to gently pry the gauze away from the stitches, but I was too slow. She'd already gotten a better grip and given it a yank. A good yank.

I came up off the chair and had my mother not been present, that nurse would have learned some new words.

Needless to say, I was planning to ask for another nurse if that one walked into the room. I already had it worked out in my head:

"I'd like to request another nurse."

"Don't be ridiculous. Now give me your hand."

"I'd really feel more comfortable with another nurse."

"You're being silly. Now give me your hand so I can rip out -er, gently remove your stitches."

"I think I need to talk to the office manager."

"We don't have office manager."

"Then I'll just talk to whoever responds to your calls for help."

Luckily, another nurse entirely came into the room. It probably saved me from having to put up a donations link on this page to raise bail money.

In spite of my swelled hand, it was fairly easy and almost painless to pull the stitches out a bit and snip off the knots on the ends. There was only a mild stinging sensation as a couple of the stitches slid out. Then she declared me ready to go.

"How long is it going to bleed like that?" I asked.

She dabbed at the incision with some gauze. "Oh, it won't bleed." Dab. Dab.

"That looks like blood to me."

Dab. Dab. "It won't bleed. It might seep just a little." Dab. Dab.

"I hate to argue, especially since you did such a good job removing the stitches, but there's blood pooling up in my palm and running down my arm."

Dab. Dab. "Okay, maybe we can use a small bandage."

I was given a new set of exercises, mostly to ensure that my wrist wouldn't lock up on me. I also tried touching each of my fingers with my thumb. I couldn't quite reach the pinky, but I couldn't quite do that before the surgery, either. The nurse said I should probably be able to do that before I came back to see the doctor in two weeks. If not, we might have to look into some physical therapy.

I'm now supposed to spend more time out of my wrist brace than in it. I'm only supposed to wear it when driving, moving in crowds, or other situations where I might bang my palm into something. I am supposed to use the hand as normally as possible as much as possible. I was also assured that in spite of the way my arm and hand feel, there was no way that the exercises or normal use would cause my skin to split open like an overripe watermelon. That was just the new connective tissue which needed to be stretched and trained on how the arm was supposed to work. The only way I could cause actual damage was by banging into something. In fact, if I was feeling well enough otherwise, I could return to work. What did I do for living again?

"I bang into things." I needed to wait to see the doctor before returning to work, then.

Regardless, I was clear to drive as soon as I felt ready. I didn't feel quite ready that day, but luckily I had my mother drive me to the doctor so she was ready to drive me home. I spent the rest of the day doing range of motion exercises and trying to touch my fingers. I went to bed feeling pretty good.

I woke up feeling like someone was pounding on my hand with a hammer.

I peeled off the bandage and discovered that overnight the minor seepage had completely saturated the bandage with an icky clear liquid. So much, in fact, that my palm looked like I had just spent too much time in the swimming pool. The stitches had previously bunched up the skin. This clump of skin had smoothed out and split open like a blister. It looked pretty bad. A little cleaning and a fresh bandage for a few hours and it looked much better the next time I got up the courage to check. I decided I would wait until Friday to call the doctor if it didn't look like it was healing properly. Today is Friday and I was surprised how much better it looked the first thing this morning. The split part has pulled back together and is laying down pretty good. It looks like it will heal fine just the way it is.

I have upgraded to about 1 1/2 hand typing. The hand is still weaker and slower than the other but can make most of the movements necessary for typing. I'm still using voice recognition software mostly because I'm lazy.

The stitches at the elbow from the anterior submuscular transposition of the ulnar nerve, a.k.a. removing my funny bone, continue to heal nicely and haven't caused any problems. The little tape strips are slowly coming loose and I've been snipping off the loose ends. One seemed to be barely holding on and I gave it a little tug, and that broke me from trying to pull them off. The elbow joint is a little stiff and doesn't have quite the range of motion it should. I assume this is due to that new connective tissue I was told about.

I go back to the doctor in two weeks. I'll try not to bore you with any more medical updates until then.

Copyright 2005 by Troy H. Cheek. Reprint with prior written permission only. Comments and questions to