Well, so once again while we were on our beach vacation, it came to pass that a member of my sister's family needed to have stitches removed. It has become our family tradition! So once again, Uncle Doctor soaked his medical instruments in vodka (you cannot be too careful, people), and prepared to remove the seven sutures that the cavalier cousin had acquired in some sort of college capers and/or shenanigans.
OK, so the other thing that is true is that the girl in charge is taking an EMT course this summer. She hopes to be a doctor some day, but in the meantime, she is totally thrilled to own her own stethoscope and blood pressure cuff.
I know, right?!
So it made total sense to all of us that Uncle Doctor should give a lesson or two, and then the girl in charge should remove the sutures. Because obviously.
Weird . . . no one asked the cavalier cousin how he felt about this plan . . . .
Well, so before the action started, Uncle Doctor whined a little bit about how the light wasn't very good, and quick as a cricket, multiple relatives pulled out multiple iPhones with multiple flashlight apps.
Uncle Doctor was much happier. Then he showed the girl in charge how it's done. She was riveted.
She wasn't the only one.
And then -- Uncle Doctor handed the scissors and the tweezers (from a cousin's glamour bag) over to the girl in charge, and she took out the rest of the stitches.
It was really cool!
Her hair was bugging her (and was making the cavalier cousin question the whole proceeding), so a cousin got drafted to hold her hair back -- STAT! I'm sure there's medical terminology for this. What is it?
Uncle Doctor was fabulous. After collecting the cavalier cousin's insurance information and making him sign a liability waiver, he was totally chillaxed and calm, and was a great coach for the girl in charge, who was nervous and excited and nervous. Her one terse comment: "This is really fun." Uncle Doctor grinned, and said, "It is, isn't it?"